Barbara Metzger Read Free Page B

baroness, that distant Neville cousin inherited everything, all those trust-fund earnings, all those rent rolls. Findley wasn’t about to let his meal ticket waste away over a bit of hoydenish behavior the chit would likely outgrow anyway.
    The baronet rubbed his weak chin. After all, there was no chance his own daughter would be contaminated with Annie’s disobedience. Esmé treated her cousin as a grande dame would a noxious puddle, pulling her skirts aside and ignoring the mess. Esméralda would never set foot in those bothersome woods again if her life depended on it, even if she was assured her slippers wouldn’t get soiled. Nigel tried once when they first arrived, taking his gun into the woods after a deer. He got lost again, which had to have been Annie’s fault, he swore, since she eventually came to lead him home.
    Although he never mentioned it to anyone, Sir Alfred went into the forest one day, determined to drag Annie back by her hair if necessary. But under the great trees he found a dark, forbidding atmosphere with odd, earthy scents. The baronet even thought he heard voices laughing at him where no one was. He’d turned around while he could still see the chimneys of Neville Hall.
    “It’s not as if any of the neighbors are going to spot her outside without an escort or a bonnet,” Aunt Cherise urged, to get the impossible child out of the house.
    No, none of the neighbors were about to spy on his niece whatever the brat did in those woods. Annie could take her clothes off and dance naked in a Black Sabbath. No one would know, because no one ever ventured a toe into Sevrin Woods. And she was still only a little girl.
    So there was another compromise, of sorts. Sir Alfred and his family lived in Lisanne’s house, off her income, and ignored her presence as well as her absence. This suited the young baroness just fine.
    Lisanne kept away from the house and away from its surly servants as much as she could. When she was at home, she read in her papa’s library, where there was small chance of encountering any of her relations. She also kept up with her studies in the woods, the stillroom, and the herb gardens. And she still nursed the injured birds and orphaned rabbits that came her way.
    One other duty kept her from the forest on occasion: her responsibility to the Neville tenants. Sir Alfred wasn’t able to replace the bailiff, so those dependent on the barony were not subject to his penny-pinching ways. Neither were they well served by him or his wife. The Findleys made frequent trips to London, nary a one to the thatch-roofed cottages. It was Annie, remembering her father’s gentle teachings, who brought baskets of food when the crops were meager, blankets when the winter was severe. She had an elixir for old man Jenkins’s rheumatics, and a syrup for Neddy Broome’s cough. Soon the household servants started coming to her with toothaches and such. For sure Sir Alfred wouldn’t pay out the fee for a doctor’s visit. They might make the sign to ward off the evil eye when Annie was through, but they brought her their sniffles and spasms.
    Annie could doctor simple ailments, but she was better with animals. Soon the tenants were asking her to look at a sow that wouldn’t farrow, a cow that gave no milk. And gardens, why, the slip of a girl could sniff at a handful of dirt and tell why the roses didn’t bloom or when the peas should be planted.
    Lisanne’s reputation grew, despite all of her uncle’s efforts to curb it. While there was respect for the child’s learning, there was suspicion, too. That was a powerful lot of knowledge for such a young head, the rumors went. And where did she come by guessing whether Rob Fleck’s next babe was a boy or a girl—and getting it right year after year? No one could have taught her, for the servants said she had no schooling. The Devonshire folks shook their heads. They never let any of their children play in Sevrin Woods. Whispers of Addled Annie