Quiet Meg by Sherry Lynn Ferguson Read Free Book Online Page A

enthusiasm for the latest trends, but there was nothing merely
fashionable about them. Indeed, Cabot’s revisions enhanced what made Selbourne so special, adding perspective and, for
her father, access. The result was ingenious. She had thought
her kitchen garden an enterprise, yet Charles Cabot worked
routinely, masterfully, on a grand scale.

    She continued on her circuit of the house. Large areas
had been leveled smooth and sodded. At the east side, masons worked on a foundation for the terrace. Around to the
north, the courtyard between the wings looked unchanged,
but Meg noticed variously painted stakes placed out on the
lawn.
    At last she turned into the lane between the garden wall
and the stables. She crossed to the stalls to greet her favorites, particularly Arcturus and her own dear Paloma,
and to tell the head groom that she would ride at dawn the
next morning. Then she stopped in at the kitchen garden.
    It looked untouched, which relieved her. But as she
crossed to the south gate, she noticed a single stake planted
near the teahouse. She was frowning as she reached the
front court, where Cabot’s men were again employed with
the planting beds outside the windows of the drawing room.
    She did not pause even to remove her bonnet before hurrying to compare her observations with Cabot’s plans.
    Her father came to join her.
    “Trying to understand it, are you my dear?”
    “‘Tis a great deal, father.”
    “Indeed, though he assures me he will not change fundamentals. We were spared much worry and expense on tedious items like drainage. I fear we’ve not been enough of
a challenge for Mr. Cabot. No doubt he hoped to inspire us
to building canals and cascades.”

    She smiled.
    “You are certain-that he is reliable?”
    “My dear Margaret, I can vouch for the man’s honesty.
What would be his motive in damaging our home? He is
rumored to be capable of purchasing several Selbournes,
should he wish it. I am not inclined to contest the details.”
He watched her as she concentrated on Cabot’s sketches.
“You do not mind, my dear, that Bertram furthers such
changes-without your consultation?”
    “I trust Bertie, father. He loves Selbourne more than any
of us. And he appears to trust Mr. Cabot” She looked again
to the plans. “Most of this seems plain enough, but the
rest … Has he explained his painted stakes? I regret I am
not an instant architect.”
    “Should you wish to be, Margaret?” She avoided her father’s too discerning eye. “You must quiz him, daughter.
Something about sight lines, if I recall. And some of them
are for trees. Perhaps Lucy will remember-she is most attentive to Mr. Cabot,” he smiled. “I hear her across the way
with her confidante, Miss Burke. No doubt they will demand your company for tea. But I”-he was already signaling a footman-“have most pressing correspondence.”
    His hasty departure was no surprise, since Lucy was
prone to chatter even more incessantly with her doting
friend Amanda Burke. Indeed, Meg clearly heard Lucy’s
excited tones before they entered the room.
    “Oh, Meg,” Lucy said. “Mandy wanted to see Charles’s
drawings as well, so we’re having a tea tray brought in
here.”
    “How pleasant,” Meg said, though she would have preferred the quiet. “Are you well, Miss Burke?”
     
    Lucy’s faithful shadow mumbled something before bobbing a curtsy.
    “Don’t be so shy, Mandy,” Lucy admonished. “‘Tis just
Meg. Look here, these are Charles’s drawings, first his
maps to show where everything will go, and here his pictures of how everything will look when he’s finishedalthough I do not intend he shall ever be finished here!”
    “Really, Lucy,” Meg protested, with a glance at Amanda’s
pink cheeks.
    Lucy tossed her head.
    “Mandy knows how I feel about Charles.”
    “Let us hope he, at least, does not,” Meg said. “Now
come tell me what he means by these painted stakes.”
    For all