The Quilter's Legacy Read Online Free PDF Page B

rather trample a little child beneath his hooves than take a sugar cube from Eleanor's palm. She fingered the apple in her pocket—and jumped when Jupiter tossed his head and whinnied. She caught her breath and took one soft step toward him. She drew closer, then stretched out her hand and held the apple beneath Jupiter's muzzle.
    He lowered his head, his nostrils flaring, his breath hot on her skin. Then he took the apple from her hand and backed away, disappearing into his stall.
    Delighted, Eleanor lifted the latch to the stall door to follow—and then felt herself yanked back so hard she nearly fell to the ground. “What are you doing?” cried Miss Langley. She quickly closed the stall and snapped the latch shut. “You know you're not allowed near your father's horse. You could have been killed.”
    “I only wanted to feed him,” said Eleanor, shaken. “He kept looking at me, and I felt sorry for him, since none of us ever play with him—”
    “Jupiter does not play, not with you children or anyone else.”
    “Please don't tell,” begged Eleanor. “I won't do it again. I know I should stay away from the horses. I'm delicate.”
    “Jupiter is a proud creature, and very strong. He is not safe for children. I would have given Abigail the same advice though she is four years older.”
    “You wouldn't have needed to. Abigail's afraid of him.”
    “Don't be saucy.” But Miss Langley almost smiled as she said it, and she brushed a few stray pieces of straw from Eleanor's dress. “Your father is a formidable man. Don't cross him until you're old enough to accept the consequences.”
    It had never occurred to Eleanor that anyone might intentionally cross Father. “How old is that?”
    “I suppose you'll know, if the occasion ever arises.”
    Miss Langley took Eleanor by the hand and led her outside.
    As they returned to the house, Eleanor looked up at Miss Langley and asked, “Do you really think Father will sell the summer house?”
    “I know he does not want to.” Miss Langley absently touched her straight, blond hair, as always, pulled back into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. “However, it would be more frugal to maintain only one household.”
    Eleanor had hoped for something more encouraging, but Miss Langley never lied, and Eleanor knew her father was concerned about debt. She had overheard him say that the family business had never completely recovered from the Panic six years earlier. It would surely not survive another unless he took on a partner.
    “If he has to sell a house, I wish he'd sell this one,” said Eleanor.
    “You might find the summer house rather cold in winter.”
    “Mother would bundle me in so much wool I'd never notice the cold,” said Eleanor, glum, then stopped short at the sight of her mother, holding up her skirts with one hand and approaching them at a near run.
    “Miss Langley,” Mother gasped. “What on earth are you doing?”
    Abruptly, Miss Langley released Eleanor's hand. “Walking with Eleanor.”
    “I can see that.” Mother knelt before Eleanor, held her daughter's face in her hands, and peered into her eyes. “Why would you bring her outside after such a hard day of travel, and without a word to anyone? My goodness, where are her shoes? Have you given no thought to this poor child's health?”
    Miss Langley drew herself up. “Mrs. Lockwood, if I may, moderate exercise has remarkable curative effects—”
    “Curative? Look at her. Her face is flushed. She looks positively ill.”
    “She does now. She did not before you arrived.”
    “Your impertinence might pass for the voice of experience if you had children of your own.” Mother took Eleanor's hand. “Use better judgment in the future or you shall convince Mr. Lockwood that our trust in you has been misplaced.”
    Mother led her daughter away without giving Miss Langley a chance to reply. When they reached the house, Mother told Eleanor to go to her room, finish unpacking, and rest until