The Haunting at Hawke's Moor Read Free

her clothes might identify her
as foreign to these parts. Her London accent would, as
well.
    "Some flour perhaps. Five pounds?" She
looked around and saw some ham under a cloth. "And a pound of ham.
Do you have any seeds?"
    "What kind of seeds?" His voice was gruff
with a heavy Yorkshire accent.
    "Peas?" Anne said brightly. "Onions. Kitchen
garden seeds."
    "Over in the back there," he said
without moving to assist and Anne walked over, her skirt dripping
over the dusty floorboards. Paper packets held seeds and she picked
a few different varieties. Vegetables were not something she'd
grown before. Flowers had been her interest, but her needs were
different now, particularly if she was to live so very far away
from people. Except these Turners, for which she could only have
high hopes for.
    The man's disposition didn't improve
and Anne felt unwelcome in his store. She paid and carried the
packets outside again, waiting under a covered entranceway for
whoever was to assist them in reaching their destination. If Mr.
Canning decided they were too much trouble, she didn't know what to
do, but before long, a man came, wearing an oiled coat and hat,
driving a modest carriage that really only suited one person. They
had to squeeze in, the oval glass in the rear steaming up with
their wetness.
    Lisle fell asleep, but Anne watched
and the countryside changed, becoming more and more starkly
desolate. Everything felt wet, including her clothes, and it
chilled her, even as the inside of the carriage developed a sticky
warmth.
    They passed a few farm houses, but
they were few and far between. Checking the watch in her reticule,
which had belonged to her husband before he'd bought a finer one,
they had now driven two hours. It would not be an easy task getting
back to the railway, or perhaps even to provisions. They would have
to learn to be self-sufficient, for now at least.
    The driver didn't say a word the entire
time, the horse going at a steady pace down the narrow gravel road.
Rain stopped and started again, but it was uniformly gray.
    Despite the dismal weather, Anne held
hope in her heart. All things considered, she was fortunate to have
this. There may not be much company on the moors, but her status as
a divorcee would carry all the way out here, from now until the day
she passed. She would just have to get used to a more solitary
life. No doubt full of work from dawn to dusk, in the immediate
involving getting the kitchen garden sorted. If no one had lived in
this house for quite a while, it would likely be overgrown, maybe
even unrecognizable.
    In truth, she had no idea what to
expect. It was a manor so it was larger than a cottage. Probably
built in the same gray stone as every other building in this area.
Hopefully, it had a roof. If it was a ruin, things would be
infinitely tougher. But if she had to learn the skill of roofing,
she would. She had absolutely no choice.
    Eventually, the carriage turned off
into a smaller road—a track was perhaps a better description, that
led, meandering and overgrown up a hill. Two thin stone tracks led
the way. There were no signs that any types of vehicles had been on
the track, and other than the lain stone, there was nothing to
indicate this was a road.
    The carriage was unstable and pitched
awkwardly in places. Even Lisle couldn't sleep through this and
they held on tightly to the handles. The horse strained to pull
them up over the uneven surface.
    Cresting the hill, they saw the house
in the distance. Three stories, with a roof. Anne breathed a sigh
of relief. The roof was, at least, there, and looked to be intact.
Windows interspersed the gray stone, a few missing panes. A couple
of outbuildings stood on one side, but nature had claimed back the
yard. A birch tree grew next to the stairs leading up to the main
entrance.
    The carriage pulled across the deeper gravel
around the front, crushing a few bushes that had grown through. The
rain had lessened to a drizzle.
    Anne and Lisle got