Quiet Meg Read Online Free PDF Page A

it’s very bad of you. You’ve been making a nuisance of
yourself. Leave the poor man alone.” He looked at his father. “She’s been pestering Cabot, father.”
    “Umph! Mr. Cabot is not for you, Lucinda. Leave him
be. When we get to town you shall find suitors enough.”
    “Who is Mr. Cabot?” Meg asked curiously.
    “Charles Cabot, the architect,” Bertie said. “I thought I
mentioned him in my last letter?” When Meg shook her
head, he added, “I knew him at university. He is much in
demand-revised the grounds at Hume-Wilcote last fall,
and the Duke of Clare has claim on him come May, for improvements to his estate at Abbey Clare in Kent. Cabot’s
stopping here as a favor.”

    “‘Tis an expensive favor, Bertram,” Sir Eustace remarked.
    “Oh, stop it, father. You may tease him all you like, but
you know he has worked wonders here. I thought I saw him
out front just before you arrived, Meggie. Let me see if I
can’t tow him in for you.” Bertie stepped swiftly into the
hall.
    “I must … I must go change from all my travel dust, father. You mustn’t wait supper. And Lucy, I have a gift for
you from Aunt Bitty.”
“
    “You needn’t rush, Margaret,” her father advised as she
moved toward the door. “You know we do not bend to the
hour.”
    I have been traveling since five this morning, father. I
confess to some fatigue.” But her shoulders relaxed as Bertie
returned alone.
    “Apparently he’s suddenly ridden off somewhere”
Bertie looked puzzled. “I thought we were to ride together
tomorrow morning. Well, no matter. You shall meet him at
supper, Meggie.”
    She smiled wanly and excused herself. She could not
have explained her panic. To have that stranger-staying
here. With her family at Selbourne. Sitting down with them
to supper! She had come home to uneasy shelter.
    Chas had turned and fled. He had watched her up the
steps, but as soon as Bertram had reached to pull her indoors, Chas had turned abruptly and walked rapidly away.

    He had slipped in through the gate to the kitchen garden
and leaned against the cool stonewall, closing his eyes and
listening to his heart pound. Appealing. Appealing! His
grandmother had known how it would be. You must see for
yourself, she had said. And now he was struggling for composure while hiding in the kitchen garden.
    Even that had been a poor choice, for when he opened his
eyes he still saw her-in the garden she had planned. This
would be no sanctuary. And at any moment someone might
move to a west window and spot him.
    He thrust himself away from the wall and hastened
across the garden, her garden, to the west gate and the stables. He quickly saddled a horse himself-the same bay
stallion he had grown to appreciate over the past few weeks.
Then he set out on a tear for the north boundary. He had intended to go the next morning; he would have to revisit the
site with Bertram on the morrow. But just now he needed to
escape the house. From any other direction he could still
see at least part of Selbourne’s gray stone. In his present
mood he would seek it out and stare at it and he knew he
could not stare at it.
    Meg Lawrence was not for him. Yet in those few seconds
on the drive he had felt an instant, fierce urge to claim her.
    Chas let the horse have his head, racing toward the woods
at a run. The drumming of the bay’s hooves echoed his
heartbeats. Only as they reached the trees did he pull up
and move carefully amidst the branches and tangles. Fallen
leaves and pine needles were soft beneath the horse’s
hooves; the late afternoon shadows were long. Chas was
acutely aware of the scent of the woods, the growing chill
in the air, the occasional calls of birds high overhead. As his agitation eased he was alerted to something else as
well-in the shadows of the trees, not more than two hundred feet from him, another rider observed him.

    The man was trespassing. Having worked with the survey of the