The Haunting at Hawke's Moor by Camille Oster Read Free Book Online

he couldn't take her all the way. She carried the
provisions in a wooden box, except the flour which was too heavy to
carry. She’d had to leave it under a rock formation that would
hopefully keep it dry if inclement weather intruded.
    Only the moon lit the manor as she
approached in the dark, taking care not to stumble as she was
carrying both paraffin and matches in one box. She could go up like
a firecracker if she didn't take care.
    The door was unlocked and creaked as she
pushed it open. The saddle oil would help with the hinges in the
house, she thought as she heaved the heavy door shut again. The
house was silent and Anne was glad to be home, free of worry she
would be stranded out on the moors that night.
    The thought of the absent letter from Harry
weighed on her again and she sighed. He was just very busy, she
told herself, but she knew in her heart that Harry was angry with
her, maybe even disgusted. The boy that had been her reason for
living for so many years wasn't a boy anymore and he had no need
for her. It hurt just thinking it.
    Placing the box of provisions on the
table in the parlor, she walked toward the kitchen. Finally, there
was some noise, but it was disturbing noise. Opening the door
slowly, her fears were confirmed with the sight of Alfie lodged
between Lisle's thighs, pounding into her as she lay on the kitchen
table, her bare knees around his hips.
    Anne withdrew, covering her mouth with her
hand. She didn't know what to do. Should she barge in there, demand
an explanation? What could she do—fire them? She should, but she'd
have no one here and no chance of replacing either of them.
    Alfie's grunts turned guttural and Anne
backed away, escaping upstairs, forgetting to grab a new candle for
her room.
    This new knowledge turned her stomach.
And Lisle had been stupid the first opportunity she'd had. Didn't
she understand what she was gambling with? She could be with child
after tonight.
    Anne curled up on her bed, her fingers still
over her lips. This could end in disaster, but then maybe Alfie had
good intentions corresponding with these actions. Anne hoped
so.



Chapter 8:

     
    Anne was stuck in the
corridor again, not knowing how to get out; they just went on and
on. But there was something else now, something after her. It
hadn't been there before, but she felt its presence now, like
darkness emanating from behind her.
    Her breath bounced off the walls and she
walked as quickly as she could, fearing that if she ran, she would
provoke it into chasing her.
    Finally, she saw a window
covered with netting, bright with the sun behind it. At least if
she could see outside, she would know everything was alright, but
when she pulled the netting aside, it was a mirror showing the
corridor behind her. Dread and disappointment flared in her. She
was stuck and there was no way out.
    Then there was the
scuttling noise, like a crab walking, scurrying. She couldn't see
anything, just heard it. Stopping, she listened, but it was quiet.
Whatever it was copied her or waited for her to do something.
Unease crept up her spine, making her heart beat painfully. The
only sound she heard was her own breathing, which sounded
amplified. Then she felt it coming, something was coming. Her fear
soared, overwhelming her senses.
     
    She woke with a start, the scuttling
noises ringing in her ears. Or were they? It was still there, the
scuttling noise. Frantically she moved, seeking the candle with her
hands as icy air prickling her skin. Finding the cold metal of the
candle stick, her fingers searched, but the candle was burned down
to the nub. In her haste in the evening, she'd forgotten to grab a
new one.
    Rising, she sat against the headboard
of the bed and tried to calm, tried to be rational. It was only a
dream, a terrible, anxiety-riddled dream. Even knowing she was
being ridiculous, her heart beat painfully in her chest. Taking a
breath, she tried to calm, her hands shaking as she gripped the
blankets closer.
    Her