Mum's the Word Read Online Free PDF

let us not fritter away the hour in reminiscing. We must explain our visit.”
    Primrose, nervously crocheting her fingers, twittered an interruption. “Yes, yes, so we must, but perhaps it would be best to wait until the estimable Dorcas fetches in the coffee. Dear Father used to say that there were no dry topics, just dry throats. Admittedly he was deploring the absense of port …” She plucked at her pearls. “Ellie, my dear, is that tapestry footstool new? Such a dear, sweet room this is! We have been pondering the possibility of a similar ivory silk wall covering for the Novice’s Suite, sometimes known as the Bridal Bedchamber, at Cloisters.”
    Hyacinth frowned. “Primrose, these stalling tactics serve only to make our mission more painful.” She gripped my hands, her painted fingernails glowing like hot coals. “Dear friend, we have intruded at this unseemly hour, unannounced, because we have grave concerns for your well-being.”
    I had been feeling a little faint but her words brought me round like a dash of cold water. What could the sisters believe threatened my halcyon existence? Light dawned! Pregnancy, even at its most normal, was assuredly a matter of life or death to the Misses Tramwell. Sitting vigorously upright, I bit back a smile at the thought of their coming post haste to insist that I stay in bed the full nine months.
    â€œPlease, you mustn’t worry about me. Other than the mandatory morning sickness, I am fine, truly!”
    Hyacinth
tut
ted. “Do understand, Ellie, that Prim and I are not averse to your having this child. Indeed, we received the news of the anticipated joyous event with pleasure. We are both singularly fond of babies.”
    â€œAnd only the tiniest degree afraid of them,” contributed Primrose with her pastel smile.
    Hyacinth’s brow darkened. “Doubtless, Ellie, a child will add much to the felicity of your life with Bentley—once you emerge from the early travails of broken nights, broken bones, and broken romances. We did telephone our local midwife—the sage Nurse Krumpet—who assured us that childbirthneed no longer be the primitive ordeal of the past. Antiquated as I am, nothing will convince me that birth is fit television entertainment or that the labouring mother’s smiles are not dubbed in, however.” She drew breath.
    â€œMy dear Hy”—Primrose fussed with the bows in her hair—“are you not taking the scenic route in getting to the point?”
    Hyacinth nodded. “I, trust, my dear, you are a believer in the Psychic Force?”
    â€œI’m sort of agnostic on the subject.”
    Her black eyes held me, and the canaries ceased tweeting in the birdcage earrings. “Yesterday Primrose and I were at the breakfast table in the morning parlour. I was showing her the matinee coat I am knitting for a certain baby when Chantal entered with the toast rack.”
    â€œOur maid,” Primrose chimed in. “A superior girl of gypsy extraction.”
    Hyacinth quelled her with a look. “During Chantal’s hours off she is progressing toward an advanced university degree. The employment conditions at Cloisters being ideal in that her subject is monastic herbalism. That nerve remedy Primrose sent you was one Chantal came across while cleaning out a cupboard which hadn’t been touched in several hundred years.”
    Primrose tapped on her Mickey Mouse watch. “Indeed, yes, and we do trust, Ellie, you will find it as salutary as did Anne Boleyn and dear Sir Walter Raleigh in their hour of need.”
    Hyacinth closed her eyes. “To proceed apace—as fate willed, I dislodged my ball of white three ply and Chantal retrieved it from the floor.”
    â€œAlways so willing,” fluted Primrose.
    â€œChantal is a gifted clairvoyant,” said Hyacinth.
    â€œDear child,” said Primrose, “you may accuse us of reading too many