Quiet Meg by Sherry Lynn Ferguson Read Free Book Online

greeting the next morning did not surprise
her.
    “I thought some stranger posed as my daughter-that
you should miss a ride your first morning back. I hope
you’ve not acquired such lazy habits from my sister.”
    “No father,” she told him, leaning to kiss his cheek. “I
thought it best to unpack first. Has Bertie returned?” She
knew very well when Bertie had returned.
    “Back by nine. And we saw Cabot off early as well.
They spent two hours up in the north park, nosing about,
with nary a sight of a mysterious rider. But I would still
prefer you take a groom with you, my dear, if you do not
ride with Bertram. Just for a while. I would feel easier.”
    “Yes, father,” she said, though she chafed at the restriction.
    “What do you think of his plans then? Did Cabot show
you all?”

    “He showed me much, though I should like to review the
drawings. His work is most impressive.”
    “I find it so, Margaret. I am very happy with it. And
pleased that Bertram finally brought us a friend who does
not spend his days sleeping and lounging. Not another useless fribble. Now come across here and take a look at my
terrace “
    They moved to the east window and gazed out at the
stakes and cleared earth marking the limits of the planned
addition. It would be of smaller dimension than the kitchen
garden on the opposite side of the house. Apparently Cabot
intended that this large window in her father’s sitting room
should become a door.
    “I shall find it easier to steal a whiff of air now and
then,” her father said.
    The notion was simple and sensible. They should have
thought of it years ago. Yet a stranger had had to suggest it.
    “Look across there” Her father pointed to the eminence
to the east. “As you know, ‘tis more than a mile away.
Cabot’s calling it the `knoll.’ He intends I should be able to
wheel out to it-and up to it. I shall have to get stronger.”
    Meg smiled, pleased to hear him sounding so determined. She had much for which to thank Charles Cabot.
    From Sir Eustace’s rooms, it was possible to see down
the shaded avenue, across to the river, where the tall pines
had lost their lower limbs. Meg had not seen the river’s far
bank from the house since she was a child.
    “I’d like to walk out a bit and survey the work, father.
Shall I have you brought out front with me?”
    “No, no. You must go at your own pace. There is too
much of the business going on out there at this time of the day for me to tolerate. But I shall be watching you when
you come into view, so mind you try nothing reckless-like
removing Cabot’s carefully placed markers.” He winked at
her. “He does fuss.”

    When she exited the house five minutes later, she waved
to her father behind his sitting room window, then set off
along the marked path to the knoll.
    She had thought to walk all the way, but the path did not
advance directly-it dropped and turned, at one point apparently leading instead toward the river, such that the
knoll seemed ever more distant. Meg wondered just how
that illusion had been achieved. But given the number of
workmen busy on the earthworks just then, and the noisy
level of activity, she decided to leave further exploration to
morning rides.
    That her father should have consented to any alteration
in his beloved home surprised her, but she had no doubt the
impulse to consult Mr. Cabot had been Bertie’s. With their
father’s injury, Bertie had assumed the practical supervision of Selbourne. Though other matters had never interested him greatly, the running of the estate and prospects
for improvement had focused his most earnest attention.
And Meg allowed that Bertie must do as he thought best for
Selbourne, since it would eventually be entirely his responsibility.
    Their neighbors had begun to seek Bertie’s advice regarding the latest agricultural innovations. Meg supposed Cabot’s
transformations were but one more step in her brother’s