C H A P T E R 7
Anne
The next morning Anne stood in the kitchen, kneading the
dough for breakfast scones, her arms covered in flour. She was
not usually one to make a mess while she cooked, but the kitchen appeared as if the flour bag had exploded. She continued to pound the table and form the round shapes.
The rest of the house was quiet. Neither the masters nor
their guests were awake, and she was grateful for the reprieve.
The burn on her hand was no longer painful. Anne had
been so shocked yesterday, thinking Master Drummond had
meant her when he’d actually meant his son wasn’t to step foot on one of his ships.
She’d stood between the two of them and thought Master
Drummond had figured out her plans to get aboard.
Thankfully for her, that wasn’t the case. Unfortunately for
Teach, Master Drummond controlled him, like everyone else
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under his roof. And Teach appeared just as helpless to do anything about it.
To be banned from his father’s own ship, she couldn’t imagine what that must feel like. Nor did she want to.
It was almost enough to make her feel sorry for him.
Still, Teach had a roof over his head. He would always have
plenty of money to spend and food to eat. And he would soon
be married to the daughter of a baron.
From what Anne had seen of Miss Patience, she wished
Teach luck. He would certainly need it.
Throughout the evening meal the previous day, Miss
Patience had taken every opportunity to make Anne look like
a fool or drop things. Several times she had even attempted to
send Anne sprawling.
Margery eventually took pity on Anne and had Mary serve
Miss Patience the cold meats and cheeses instead.
Teach sat on the opposite side of the table, and Anne was
unsure which situation was worse. He’d guessed correctly that
she had placed something in the tartlet, although he would
have a hard time proving it. Anne had thrown out the seeds as
soon as she’d returned to the kitchen, and had vowed not to try
anything so foolish again.
The rooster in the yard crowed, signaling sunrise. Sara
walked into the kitchen and regarded Anne for a moment. “Do
you need some help?” she asked.
Anne stopped to catch her breath, blowing a thick strand of
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hair out of her face. “Thank you, I would appreciate it.”
Sara nodded and grabbed a rag, then cleared the eggshells
and excess flour from the table. At least one good thing had come out of Anne helping serve the meals. Sara was kinder to her now than she had been in the past few months. Unsure how long Sara’s behavior would last, Anne was grateful to her for the moment.
While Sara finished cleaning, Anne baked the scones, and
their hot buttery scent filled the air. Once they were ready, she covered them with a cloth. After pulling out the scraps of cold meat from the previous night’s meal, as well as a carrot, she
walked out to the stable, signaling to the cat. The master didn’t care much for animals, but Margery had proven a valuable employee, so he allowed her to have her pet if she kept it away
from the main house and fed it in the stable.
Margery had saved the cat from some street urchins who’d
been torturing it, and had nursed it back to health. Anne suspected the housekeeper cared more for the cat than she did for
her fellow humans.
Hurrying to the low brick building on the other side of the
courtyard, Anne glanced up at the clear sky overheard. The air
was brisk.
Leaving the door ajar to allow some light into the dark
interior, she dumped the meat onto the floor and watched as
the cat pounced, her back rippling with pleasure. From her
pocket Anne pulled out the carrot. Then she approached the
stall that housed the young master Drummond’s horse. The
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stallion pawed the earth when he saw her and nipped at the treat in her hand.
Patting his black neck, Anne breathed in his smell. “You
weren’t meant to be cooped up like this, now, were you? Barely
a chance to get out, with your master gone to sea. What would
he do if I took you away from this place?”
“Perhaps you should try it and see what happens.”
Gasping, Anne clutched her chest as she spun around.
Leaning against the wall in the shadow of the door was the
young master himself, dressed in a riding jacket, breeches, and
riding boots.
“You should have made your presence known,” she said,
hating the breathlessness in her voice but unable to stop it.
“And ruin all the fun?” he asked, strolling toward her.
“It’s not right to sneak up on someone.”
“I didn’t sneak up on you,” he said, his eyes not leaving
her face.
Taking a few steps to the side, she attempted to reach the
doorway. “I have work to do.”
Once again he blocked her path. “Your work can wait.”
“I don’t think Margery or your father would agree.”