Silken Secrets Read Free Page A

wool shawl around her shoulders and went downstairs quietly to avoid waking Uncle Edwin. She suspected he found the days plenty long enough when he arose at ten or eleven. Horton Hall had no large acres to oversee, no tenant farmers, no forests, and no crops except the home garden and a few acres of hay for the horses and cow and the goat.
    Except that Belle, the goat, seemed to prefer eating the stalls and buckets and her rope. Belle’s presence at the Hall was due to another of Lord Edwin’s generous impulses. Mrs. Christian, their neighbor, had threatened to put the animal down when Belle ate her best umbrella. Uncle Edwin had retrieved the horrid goat from the axe, much to his housekeeper’s dismay.
    “There’s all kinds of creatures in the world, and your uncle’s one of them,” she had told Mary Anne. “He means well, but he don’t think what he’s about.”
    Mrs. Plummer took care of the chickens, and Fitch did the outside work. Poor Uncle Edwin just got in his days as best he could. He’d probably get up at eleven and drive the gig into Dymchurch to talk to his cronies. She’d go with him today, to celebrate her birthday.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Plummer,” Mary Anne said brightly when she entered the breakfast room.
    Mrs. Plummer’s dour face creased in an unusual smile. Like Mary Anne, she had attempted to honor the day by dressing up. A new apron covered her dark gown, and her brindled hair was skimmed back even more tightly than usual from her rosy face. Poor tyke, she thought—it would be a day like any other for Miss Judson, but she’d do what she could. Fitch had orders to kill a chicken for dinner, and a raisin cake was in the process of being made in the kitchen.
    “Happy birthday, Miss Judson. My, don’t you look pretty! Wearing your good gown, eh? I expect you’ll be going into the village.”
    “Perhaps,” Mary Anne said evasively. If Uncle forgot it was her birthday, he might not invite her, and one hated to be the object of pity. “Just toast and tea for me, please.”
    Mary Anne saw the little vase of flowers on the table and smiled her thanks at this token of celebration. Already the loosestrife flowers were falling, sitting like golden stars on the table. While Mrs. Plummer poured the tea, she took a look out the bay window that gave a view of the water beyond. “Did the storm keep you awake last night?” she asked Miss Judson.
    “Storm? I didn’t even know it had rained.” Mary Anne looked out the window and saw the French lugger. “Oh, dear, someone is shipwrecked right on our doorstep!” she exclaimed, and ran to the window for a closer look. It was an unusual-looking vessel. Its hull was low and broad. It had three masts, but the sails had been lowered. “It’s not one of Vulch’s ships,” she said, frowning.
    “They do say it’s a French smuggling boat,” Mrs. Plummer told her with a wise nod of her head. “Meg Castle stopped by on her way to Vulch’s this morning, and they say in the village it got grounded on our sandbar in the storm. They didn’t catch the Frenchies,” she added.
    Mary Anne’s eyes grew wilder. “Then they’re still around somewhere!”
    The ladies exchanged a frightened glance. “I sharpened up my butcher knife. If the brutes come into my kitchen, they’ll live to regret it,” Mrs. Plummer said.
    She went to make the toast, and Mary Anne stood looking out at the lugger. It must have gotten blown badly offits course. It was parallel with the shore, its bow riding a little higher than its stern. There would be some excitement today, with the excisemen seizing the cargo and tugboats pulling the lugger free. Uncle wouldn’t want to miss that. Mary Anne mentally weighed the merits of going to Dymchurch versus staying home and watching Dymchurch come to them. Half the town would be here for the excitement.
    When Mrs. Plummer returned with the toast, Mary Anne said, “I’m surprised Officer Codey isn’t here, keeping an eye on the