Autumn by Lisa Ann Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

we?” she chuckled and the sound grated upon Arabel’s taut nerves.
                  Arabel felt uneasy, as if perhaps old Mrs. Cranston couldn’t be trusted, as if the grey swirling energy had taken over all that was decent and kind and therefore vulnerable to its attack. Feeling an overwhelming desire to leave the cottage, Arabel struggled to keep panic at bay.
                  She glanced at the tea in her hands, was it poison? Arabel felt completely without borders, without walls, as if any negative force seeking her would locate her and take her over immediately. It was a horrible, helpless feeling and Arabel put her teacup down with a rattle and made to her feet. She gestured to the box.
                  “We’ll be back next week,” Arabel said, and hastily opened the cottage door and ran through to the waiting wagon and the safety of the ponies and Mr. Larsen, leaving a bewildered old woman inside a falling down cottage, drinking her tea alone.
                  Next were Aarle and Joely Mantuive, siblings recently relocated to Crow’s Nest Pass from Magpie Moor. Arabel was keen to see what they might have to say. Perhaps they knew Klara and could shed some light upon her disappearance. Arabel had never exchanged more than a few words with them, but maybe today they would open up to her.
                  The visit with Mrs. Cranston had shaken Arabel more than she cared to admit. Arabel had never felt an ominous presence in the cottage before and all her prior interactions with the old woman had been lovely afternoon visits, with no foreboding of danger. Arabel was sure she’d over-reacted, but she followed her intuition completely, regardless of whether or not it might appear nonsensical. It was blind faith, Arabel supposed, and most often, thankfully, it seemed to work in her favour. She reasoned that if you had to trust someone, it was best to start with yourself.
                  The Mantuive cottage was darker than Mrs. Cranston’s and the upkeep seemed of less a concern to the brother and sister from Magpie Moor. They were middle aged and both pleasant enough to Arabel but they did not ask her inside. They stood at the front doorway, both with their hands on their hips, the box of goods placed squarely at their feet, and distant smiles upon their plain faces.
                  “Thanks again, Miss Spade, it’s awfully nice of you to come by,” the sister, Joely, was saying. Her brother Aarle bobbed his head up and down in agreement. Joely moved back from the door, and Aarle picked up the box of foodstuffs and notions.
                  “Yes, mighty generous,” he seconded, “and a good-day to you, Miss Spade.”
                  With this last remark, Aarle moved neatly in front of Arabel and shut the door firmly in her face.
                  Arabel stood on the sloop for a moment, more than a bit surprised at the quickness of her dismissal and thought she heard laughter. Arabel strained to listen and distinctly heard a low, masculine laugh within her ear. It wasn’t Aarle Mantuive, however; this voice was deeper and the laughter wasn’t coming from inside of the dark cottage.
                  Arabel shrank back against the house – she recognized this laugh. It was the laughter of the man in her dream; the man who would attack her, given the opportunity. Arabel swallowed her shock at the Mantuive’s chilly reception and forced herself to listen again for the laughter, but it was gone. Arabel moved slowly back to the waiting wagon and Mr. Larsen, settling her face into pleasant, unconcerned lines.
                  “They’re uptight, those two,” Mr. Larsen was saying. “Reckon they figure they’re too good to accept charity.” He sniffed into his blue hanky. “Some folks don’t know what they’re about,” he said sagely and Arabel knew that in Mr.