A Mistress for Stansted Hall Read Online Free PDF

are a nasty little boy to wish to help kill one of God's creatures.’ She tossed her head and her blonde ringlets danced on her shoulders.
    ‘If someone don't kill animals, you'd have nothing on your plate but vegetables, Miss Mary. The good Lord gave us food, it's up to us to farm it.’
    Mary pursed her lips and frowned at Jethro. Emma hid her smile, the gardener had said exactly what she had been thinking. Jack scrambled down from the table and shoved his sister as he ran past. ‘So there, you don't have to eat it. No chicken for Mary tonight, Mama.’
    Before she could comment her son had vanished across the yard. ‘You will be vigilant, won't you Jethro? I can always take him with me if you think you will be too much for you.’
    ‘He'll do very well, missus, I'll see he gets up to no mischief. I'll have the cart round in a jiffy. Fred's gone to fetch the pony from the meadow.’
    Emma needed pen and paper in order to write a list of their requirements. It would be a substantial list, not only did they need basic foodstuffs to replenish the empty larder, they also needed cleaning materials and needle and thread in order to begin mending the bed linen, tablecloths and no doubt, shirts and other items for Mr Bucknall.
    Mr Foster had taken Mary to the drawing room so she must go in search of the items herself. She had already put her cider covered apron in to soak, unfortunately her spare needed to be pressed before she could put it on and there was no time to heat up an iron on the range before she left for the village. It was not correct for her to appear without one, but she had no choice.
    The library was next to the study, she must be vigilant when she passed his door, it would not do to disturb the lion in his den. She wanted to make herself indispensable, make his life so comfortable he would think twice before dismissing her.
    The directions she'd been given were quite clear, the servants' stairs into the back corridor, turn right and go to the entrance hall. The library was down the widest passageway, the third door on the right. She had not needed to go back to the study since last night, Mr Foster insisted it was his place to collect and carry trays to the master. She rather thought he was protecting her, he was a lovely old gentleman, but he should be enjoying a peaceful retirement at his age.
    Keeping to the shadows she slipped like a wraith through the house until she came to the chamber she sought. There was no need to knock, the room would be empty. Also the noise might alert the one person she did not wish to confront again this morning.
    The door opened smoothly and she sailed in. She bruised her toes on the end of her boots she stopped so suddenly. The room was occupied, he was precariously perched on a small wooden ladder stretching up to remove a book from the uppermost shelf.
    Seeing her, he lost his purchase and crashed backwards. This was done without the usual cursing, he fell in total silence which made the sickening thud of his head, first striking the edge of the desk, and then bouncing on the boards, far worse. For a second she was unable to move, shock and horror glued her feet to the floor. Then she rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside him.
    ‘Mr Bucknall, I am so sorry. Can you hear me?’ Blood pooled beneath his head. She had killed him. It was her fault. Snatching up her skirt she ripped off the lower half of her petticoat. Then tore this in two, quickly making a pad with one piece, she raised his head and pressed the folded material against the cut. Next she wound the second strip around to hold the pad in place.
    His eyes were closed, he was she thought, deeply unconscious. She was reluctant to call out for Foster, to do so would alarm her daughter. She must wait until he came to investigate her disappearance. It could not be long before Fred came to the kitchen door demanding to know why she was tardy.
    All she could do for the moment was cradle his poor head in her lap