The Amaranth Enchantment Read Online Free PDF Page A

What have you been doing up here all this time?"
    I opened my eyes. Aunt's cheeks were red from climbing the ladder, and her breath came in little puffs between words.
    "Nothing," I said, looking at the floor. "I was straightening up. A rat knocked some things over in the night." How true.
    "Leave off," she said. "I need you downstairs." Her head disappeared down the hole in the floor. Nine days out of ten I'd have gotten a beating for an untidy garret. I was so relieved I swayed in my boots.
    If I ever laid eyes on that dratted Peter again, I swore I'd get my pound of flesh back from him for this.
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Chapter 6
    I pulled myself together and went down the ladder. Aunt met me at the kitchen door with the mop and bucket. "I mopped yesterday," I said.
    "Do it again."
    My hands mopped the kitchen floor, my mind seethed at Peter's nerve.
    Perdition, the cat, yowled at me for sloshing his napping corner with suds.
    When I'd finished the kitchen and hallways, I headed upstairs. I mopped the parlor, then reached for the door of Aunt and Uncle's bedroom. Aunt met me coming out. "Leave this room be," she snapped. "Let your uncle rest." I shrugged and carried the bucket back to the kitchen. "Windows," Aunt said.
    "All of 'em."
    "But I washed the windows yesterday morning," I said, then wished I hadn't.
    Red spots appeared on Aunt's cheeks. "Windows."
    "Yes, ma'am." I washed the windows.
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    It drew on toward nine o'clock, time for the shop to open, and still no sign of Uncle. Aunt passed out of their bedroom door and I thought she must be rousing him, but he didn't appear.
    "Is Uncle unwell?" I asked when she passed through the parlor.
    "Mind your business. When you're done there, polish the silver."
    And then it was, "polish the woodwork in the shop and in the parlor." And then, "dust the china cabinets," and if I chipped so much as a saucer, she'd take it out of my backside. As if there was enough spare flesh on my backside to mend a chip. Not with what she fed me.
    Where was Uncle? I needed to talk to him about the stone.
    My belly growled a protest that I'd given up breakfast for such an unworthy as that blackguard Peter. But as the morning slipped away I forgot about Peter and worried more and more about Uncle and why he hadn't gotten up yet.
    The shop remained closed, and passersby paused to wonder at the darkened windows. The sky was gray and heavy, though no snow fell. As I lifted and dusted each china curio, I imagined what might be wrong with Uncle, each thought more lurid than the next. A festering molar? Infectious fever? Typhus?
    Consumption?
    The chores were done. I hung my rags in the kitchen corner and waited.
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    40
    "Here, girl," Aunt called from down the hall. "You can come clean the bedroom now."
    She stood at the door with mop, rags, and bucket. "Is he awake?" I asked.
    "Hmm." She opened the door.
    Uncle lay on the bed, still sleeping, facing the opposite wall.
    "Start with the windows," Aunt said. "Don't wake him." She shut the door behind her.
    I tiptoed across the room and dipped a rag into the bucket. Drips fell and splashed into the suds. A clock ticked on the mantel.
    Something was wrong. The hair on my neck stood on end. I turned around.
    Uncle was resting peacefully, a small smile on his lips. I held my breath.
    His breath never came.
    I went to his side and touched his hand. It was cold.
    Panic swept over me. I shook his shoulder and he barely budged. It felt like trying to roll a boulder. "No, no, no, no," I heard myself saying, as though I was watching myself from a corner of the room. "Uncle, please wake up. It's me, Lucinda."
    Fear and shock tore me into two pieces. Part of me knew trying to wake him was in vain, the other part had to try. Lucinda watching from the corner couldn't persuade Lucinda by the bed that Uncle was plainly dead.
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    To act was better than to think. I ran to the door and yelled. Aunt! Come quickly!"
    I