The Haunting at Hawke's Moor Read Online Free PDF Page A

alone."
    Anne felt her heart soften. "Of
course. As you said, a pair of capable hands would certainly not go
amiss." They would just have to make the food stretch, and they had
the cow now for milk, cheese and butter. The Turners had most of
their other basic needs and she would just have to bargain with the
surly Mr. Turner. Obviously, there would be something in the house
she could trade, although she felt a rush of guilt as nothing in
this house felt like hers.



Chapter 5:

     
    Darkness settled fast on the moors.
One moment it seemed day; the next, night had arrived and they were
in the middle of a sea of darkness. Not a single light could be
seen along the horizon as Anne gazed out the window. She hoped the
parson had made it home in time. Lisle had retired to her room
upstairs, but the parson's visit had driven Anne to start trying to
sort the main parlor, in case he returned—or better, Harry came to
visit. After dragging the settee to the large main doors, she had
whipped the dust, leaving crisscrossing marks on the faded velvet.
A plume of dust had arisen and been swept away by the wind,
although some returned into the house.
    After wiping dusty surfaces in the room, she
felt tiredness ache in her body. She wasn't used to this degree of
work, but she was slowly getting used to it, or her body had just
stopped protesting. Her married life had involved a great deal of
drinking tea and embroidering, flower arrangement and directing
servants. Skills which were all more or less unnecessary at the
moment.
    Putting her rag aside, she took the small
lamp resting on a table and moved upstairs. She missed gas
lighting, having grown used to a lit house. Here, darkness
encroached from all angles.
    At least there was now order in her bedroom.
The floors were clean, if carpet-less, and the mattress had been
stuffed with fresh vegetation they had dried. Hay would be
preferable, but it wasn't an option just at the moment. She had
nothing like the wool overlay she used to have, but perhaps that
would come one day. Surely it wouldn't prove difficult to find wool
in Yorkshire.
    The bed was bare of the curtains that had
hung tattered and moth eaten. With the decay removed, the room was
acceptable. It was a large room and the fireplace was massive
compared to modern preferences. It smoked, so she couldn't really
use it, which was a problem she wasn't sure how to tackle.
    Instead she heated bricks by the
kitchen fire, which kept her warm enough under her blankets.
Hastily, she undressed and donned her night dress. Before she would
braid her hair, but there would be no elaborate hairstyle in the
morning; a simple bun was most useful when performing arduous
tasks.
    Grabbing her book, she crawled under
the blanket and started reading. The house creaked as it settled
with the increasing cold outside the window. There was no frost on
the window panes yet, but it would be there in the morning, when
her room was icy. They really needed to sort the fireplace, but
then there was the wood to consider—another problematic task.
Perhaps having a strong lad around would be a good
thing.
    Her eyes quickly drifted shut, but
flew open again when the acrid smell of smoke hit her nose. Sitting
up abruptly, she looked around. There were no signs of smoke.
Perhaps Lisle was cold and was trying to keep warm. If so, she was
smoking the house out. Maybe she'd even fallen asleep and the fire
had gotten away from her. Anne jumped out of bed and ran to the
door.
    As soon as she reached the landing,
the smell was gone. There was no trace of smoke at all. She stood
in the darkness and considered what to do. The smell of smoke had
definitely been there so it had to come from somewhere. Walking
into the bedroom again, it was still there, pungent and stinging
her nose. There had to be something amiss.
    Taking her lamp, she walked upstairs and
knocked on Lisle's door.
    "What?" the girl said sourly, coming
to the door.
    "I smelled smoke. Have you lit a fire?"
    "No,"