Read The Haunting at Hawke's Moor for Free Online Page B

with me and my sister. Tell us
all about it."
    Anne felt a bit stumped how to reply, but
the woman seemed kind and Anne was certainly not in a position to
turn an invitation down.
    "I'll see if Anders is heading out and
I'll send the boy around the let you know," the merchant
said.
    "Come," the elderly woman urged,
walking awkwardly down the two steps to the bare earth street. Anne
followed, unsure what she was heading toward, but she didn't have
long to wait. The sisters' cottage was just down the street—a
small, stone cottage with dormant roses along the fence.
    "Hilda, I have brought a guest," the
woman said as she opened the door. "You will never guess what this
lovely girl has just told me."
    A slightly younger version of the
woman arrived, with neatly tied hair. "Miss Emily Thornby," she
presented herself.
    "Miss Anne Sands," Anne said, gently
touching hands, conscious of how rough her hands were underneath
her gloves.
    "This young woman says she lives at
Hawke's Manor. Come, dear,” Emily said.
    A young maid brought tea in a silver
service as they sat down in the parlor filled with lace and
embroidery. The furniture was dainty, made for a woman's
sensibilities. Anne wondered if the sisters had lived here all
their lives. They were of gentler birth, obviously
unmarried.
    "Yes," Anne replied. "I have inherited
it." These women’s attitude to her would definitely be diminished
when they discovered Anne was a divorcee. She felt torn between
telling them or not. They might think even worse of her if they
discovered it afterward and she'd tried to hide the fact. But there
was no easy way of bringing it up in conversation.
    Both of the sisters stared at her and she
felt self-conscious.
    "No, that can't be. You must leave,
dear." Hilda looked at her with clear concern in her
eyes.
    Anne wondered if they'd already found out
about her less than respectable status. The back of her eyes stung
with the unfairness of it. She had never done anything to deserve
such disregard—except lose her husband, which perhaps she needed to
take responsibility for. "I'm afraid I won't be leaving." There was
the small matter of her not having anywhere to go.
    "That house is evil. It always has
been,” Hilda said.
    It wasn't the first time she'd heard this
superstitious nonsense. "It is only a house. It is actually quite
charming, now that we have achieved some semblance of order. I
don't mind telling you that it has taken quite a bit of work. My
hands have suffered," she said nervously.
    The sisters still stared at her. "Back
in grandmother's day, there were tales of people fleeing that
house. They say it's haunted," Emily stated.
    "Well, if that's the case, it's had no
one to haunt for quite a while, so it's likely given up. There is
nothing untoward in the house," Anne said reassuringly.
    "I hope you are right."
    Hilda shuddered. "I haven't seen that
house in years. I'm surprised it's still standing."
    "The construction seems to be quite sturdy,"
Anne said, taking a sip of her tea.
    A knock sounded on the door and Anne
heard murmuring when the maid answered. The young girl appeared.
"There is a message saying Mr. Anders will be leaving shortly and
he has agreed to take you."
    "I don't have a horse," she said with an
embarrassed smile. "There is a carriage, but it needs attention
that is beyond my capabilities."
    The sisters looked pityingly at her, and
Anne hated it, being pitied, but then perhaps her situation was
pitiable, she conceded.
    "I am afraid I must depart. It has been so
lovely being invited into your home."
    "Next time you are in the village, you must
come see us."
    "Of course," Anne said, glad she had
made some acquaintances, although a friendship that was still
tentative as she hadn't had a chance to be honest about her
situation yet. The friendship might not survive the revelation.
"Thank you, again."
     
    It was dark by the time she arrived
home. Mr. Anders had been kind and taken her most of the way to the
house, although