The Wolves of Willoughby Chase (The Wolves Chronicles, Book 1)
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Can you go a little faster? Can you run?
Long ago, at a time in history that never happened, England was overrun with wolves. But as Bonnie and her cousin Sylvia discover, real danger often lies closer to home. Their new governess, Miss Slighcarp, doesn't seem at all nice. She shuts Bonnie in a cupboard, fires the faithful servants and sends the cousins far away from Willoughby Chase to a place they will never be found. Can Bonnie and Sylvia outwit the wicked Miss Slighcarp and her network of criminals, forgers and snitches?
whirled over the packed snow of the driveway, passed beyond a grove of leafless trees, and was lost to view. Without a word, Bonnie turned on her heel and marched up the stairs and along the passages to the nursery. Sylvia followed, her heart swollen with compassion. She longed to say some comforting words, but could think of none. ‘It may not be long, Bonnie,’ she ventured at length. Bonnie sat at the table, her hands tightly clenched together. ‘I will not, I will not cry,’ she was saying to
you will come under my severe displeasure. Small stitches, mind.’ ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Sylvia, trembling, trying to keep her eyes from wandering towards the fireplace. ‘I have a good mind to set that insolent child in the cupboard to this work too …’ Miss Slighcarp muttered. She moved to the cupboard door, feeling in the reticule attached to the sash of her dress. Sylvia gasped with fright. ‘How very provoking! I gave the key to James.’ Sylvia let out a long, quivering breath of relief. ‘Miss
said. ‘Nay, lad, save thy pie for later. Porridge is on the forge fire this minute, and what’s better nor that?’ The geese had climbed and fluttered out of the cart, and were busy foraging in the hay. Bonnie, after making sure that Sylvia was well covered and had gone back to sleep, was glad to come into the smith’s clean little kitchen, which opened off the smithy and was as warm as an oven. They sat down at a table covered with a checked red-and-white cloth. Mr Wilderness’s porridge was very
party in, and who had been standing in the doorway with eyes like saucers, piped up: ‘Please, sir, I saw him.’ Mr Grimshaw darted a furious look at this speaker. ‘Who are you?’ said Cardigan. ‘Please sir, Marmot, a clerk. Yesterday while Mr Gripe was out having dinner, th-that gentleman as is tied up there came and asked me to give him the address of Miss Jane Green, sister to Sir Willoughby.’ ‘And you gave it him?’ ‘Yes, sir. He said he wished to take her some dividends.’ ‘Dividends,
who, at first silent with amazement, had now got his breath back, ‘Sir Willoughby! This is joyful indeed! We had all supposed you drowned when the Thessaly sank.’ Sir Willoughby burst into a fit of laughter. ‘Ay, so they told me at your office! We have been travelling close behind you, Mr Gripe – I visited your place of business yesterday, learned you had just departed for Willoughby, and, since Lady Green was anxious to get back as soon as may be, and relieve the children’s anxiety, we hired a