Abigail Jones (Chronicles of Abigail Jones #1) Read Free Page B

village stationer's. Straight from London , the clerk had declared as he handed me the pretty glass paperweight. As I'd cupped the smoothness, a kaleidoscope burst in my head. The colors faded to darkness, to a strange dungeon of perversity. The first stinging kiss of a birch had sent the paperweight crashing from my hands. After that, my aunt had restricted my exposure to foreign goods and kept me cocooned in our cottage. Only in this fashion had we been able to limit the number of ghastly visions.
    Unfortunately, my sheltered upbringing meant I had few dealings with other people. On the rare occasion I was around others, I felt awkward, shy, always an outsider. As for friendships ... I shook away that memory, still painful after these many years. It seemed wherever we lived I quickly gained the reputation for being peculiar: the spinster's bastard niece, the one who kept company with books rather than other children.
    But better odd than a lunatic , my aunt would say.
    I let out a shaky sigh. Oh, Aunt Agnes, what should I do now?
    Do what you do best, Abigail. Employ your mind toward gainful purpose.
    My favorite activity had always involved books. A lover of the classics, my aunt had breathed life into Homer and Aeschylus during our evening readings by the fireplace. Words are the physicians of a mind diseased , the latter had written, and his in particular had a way of soothing me. How I wished that I might have kept Aunt Agnes' small collection of volumes—but they, too, had had to be sold. When the choice is between bread and books, one must feed the body first and worry about the soul later.
    Just like that, a thought wriggled into my head. I chased it away immediately. But like an imp of the perverse, the harder I tried to push it from my mind, the stronger its hold. The image of the master's library unfolded in my head: the gleaming walls of books—hundreds, if not thousands—just sitting there, unused. Unnoticed. Who would know if I was to sneak in, read a chapter or two? Just enough to calm my disordered nerves.
    It was a dangerous idea, a terrible notion.
    Lighting a candle, I headed for the servants' hallway. As I traversed the narrow darkness, a plan took shape in my head. The library was one of the few rooms that could be accessed directly from this corridor. I would not dare to remove anything from that room, but I could slip in and read for a few minutes. If anyone came, I would simply escape back into the tunnel and no one would be the wiser. Besides, the only one to visit the library this time of night would be Earl Huxton.
    At the thought of him, I experienced a nervous flutter in my belly. I shrugged it off. After his exertions of the evening, I doubted he had any inclination to read.
    Lifting the latch, I entered the library.
    The dark here was more than an absence of light: it was a hush, a heaviness befitting of a tomb. I stood on the threshold, frozen by sudden anxiety. Thoughts flashed through my head about the rash of thefts that had recently occurred in the household. Though all the servants, including myself, had been thoroughly interrogated, the culprit had not yet been found. If anyone came upon me now, would the worst be assumed? What could explain my presence here in the middle of the night?
    My good sense commanded that I turn tail and run. But the scent of parchment and ink pervaded my nostrils, more tantalizing than any perfume, and I could see the dim outline of the shelves. Hundreds and hundreds of books just waiting there, beckoning, promising sweet escape. Just a few minutes , I told myself. A quick browse. What harm could that do? Using the candle's glow to ward off the shadows, I made my way into the heart of the room.
    Having cleaned this space under Mrs. Beecher's tutelage, I could discern its grand dimensions even in the darkness. I stretched a hand out in front of me, moving forward until I touched the edge of the earl's desk. It had taken me the better part of an hour to polish