Legacy of the Clockwork Key Read Online Free Page B

The urge to laugh had gripped my ribs, and I found it difficult to breathe. It felt good to have a secret. And the secret was certainly safe beneath Agnes’s voluminous—skirts.
    I felt more alive than I had in months.
    Mrs. Pratt burst through the door and marched across the kitchen like a stuffy Beefeater. All she needed was a Tudor bonnet, a halberd, and some poor prisoner to guard at the Tower.
    If I wasn’t careful, that wretched prisoner would be me.
    “I’m off to the butcher,” she announced. “We haven’t enough beef for the stew.”
    That just about did me in. I choked, and then cougheduntil tears came. I felt I would burst of laughter if I couldn’t escape soon.
    “Heavens, Meg. Are you well?” Mrs. Pratt asked.
    I sniffed, then held my breath. “Quite,” I forced out.
    She crinkled her thin nose as she looked to Agnes. “Make sure all is in order by the time I return.”
    Agnes nodded. As soon as Mrs. Pratt thumped up the stairs, Agnes turned to me. “I’ll be stepping out for a bit, if you don’t mind. Keep to your chores, will you?”
    “Yes, missus.” I couldn’t believe it. Freedom was within my grasp. I’d be able to return the shirts that morning.
    Trembling with excitement, I waited for Agnes to abandon her post on the washtub. I had no idea what she was up to, but I enjoyed the knowledge that I wasn’t the only one who wished for a brief escape.
    After Agnes had been gone more than half an hour, I gathered the mended and laundered shirts and bounded up the stairs, nearly slipping on the ice.
    The sun shone bright, so bright I couldn’t see, but the kiss of it felt warm and welcoming, a sign that perhaps winter would not last forever.
    Careful to tread in the boot prints of the others who had passed to and from the carriage house, I made my way acrossthe snowy garden. Icicles dripped off the roof, glittering in the sunlight as they reached down over the twining branches of dormant ivy clinging to the stone. They shone as silver as my watch, the ice catching the light and transforming it into something breathtaking.
    I pushed open the heavy doors with less trouble now that there was no wind to contend with. Within the sanctuary of the carriage house, the faint rhythmic sound of a brush kept time as a soothing melody floated through the air. It came from the stalls at the far end.
    I listened for a moment to the clear voice of the groom. The melody was sad, haunting in that lonely way that makes all things fall quiet and listen. I didn’t understand the strange language he sang. I didn’t have to.
    There was no time to dally. Agnes or Mrs. Pratt could return at any minute.
    I needed to leave the shirts and get back to the house. Another confrontation with the surly groom would ruin what progress I’d made in our unspoken agreement.
    But I couldn’t leave the shirts anywhere. Mrs. Pratt would see them when she returned with the cart. Biting my lip, I crept deeper into the carriage house.
    When I reached the corner that separated the stablesfrom the main body of the carriage house, I paused, peeking around the worn stone.
    The groom’s large hands slid down the neck of the old seal-colored gelding with affection and care. My heart hammered in my chest as I watched the sleepy-eyed horse tilt his back hoof up in utter contentment. At least the groom was dressed this time in a proper, if faded, brown waistcoat, though he had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.
    “Like sneaking around, do you?” the groom stated without ever looking up.
    “If that’s my greatest shortcoming, I’m hardly the worst sinner in this household.” I lifted my chin, determined not to let him get the better of me this time.
    He chuckled as he tossed the brush into a bucket. Patting the swaying back of the gelding, he turned and looked at me.
    “Do you want your shirts, or not?” I managed to say the words without much of a tremble in my voice, though I couldn’t quite move my feet without fear I’d