The Miller's Daughter Read Online Free

“honour thy father” and yet have a will of ya own.’
    ‘Just so long as it’s the same as dad’s will, eh?’ Emma murmured, though more to herself than to Luke. She was thoughtful now, surprised to hear that Luke, shrewd and
wise as he was, had already seen something in her that she was only just beginning to recognize for herself. That in her was a spark of rebellion, a growing determination to lead her own life, to
make things happen the way she wanted.
    ‘Ya still young, lass,’ Luke was saying, ‘but your time will come, Emma. I can see it in those lovely eyes of yours. Ya might be tied to this mill by tradition and by your
father’s wishes at the moment, but ya’ll never be a slave to any man.’ Luke laughed wheezily. ‘There’s too much of old Charlie’s blood running in your veins for
that to happen.’
    The door opened and the icy cold of the November morning blew into the bakehouse.
    ‘Time to stand yapping all day, ’ave yer?’ Harry Forrest demanded of Luke. ‘I need you across at the mill.’ His glance swivelled towards Emma. ‘And
where’s me breakfast?’
    Unhurriedly, Luke started setting the bread tins out. ‘You go, lass, I’ll finish here.’
    ‘Thank you, Luke,’ she smiled at him. ‘Breakfast will be ten minutes, Father.’ She turned and went through into the kitchen, ignoring Harry Forrest’s grunt of
annoyance.
    Later in the day, when she had finished her work in the bakehouse and went through to the shop at the front, her mind was still filled with thoughts of the past which
Luke’s words had evoked. Of course, she had her grandfather’s blood coursing through her veins and maybe she was more like him than she had realized. But Charlie Forrest was a legend.
Could she really live up to the tales Luke told about him?
    I just hope old Luke is right, Emma thought, because if I’m going to marry Jamie Metcalfe then there is going to be a real battle ahead.
    ‘There you are,’ Sarah Robson’s cheerful voice greeted her. ‘Are you free to tek over now, Emma? I’ll have to go and get Luke’s tea ready in a few minutes. By
the way, we’ve no cottage loaves left and I must remember to bring some more honey across tomorrow.’
    Emma yawned and drew the back of her hand across her forehead. ‘I’ll do extra in tomorrow morning’s second batch.’
    ‘We need more scones an’ all,’ Sarah said.
    ‘I’ll do them along with the cakes after the first two batches of loaves,’ Emma nodded. ‘As the oven cools.’
    She glanced up at the ceiling as they both heard the sound of Harry Forrest moving about in the living quarters above. ‘I’d better make a start on Father’s tea, too,’ she
murmured. ‘I expect he’ll be working late tonight if this wind holds.’
    She heard Sarah’s sniff. ‘Shouldn’t bother. I reckon he’s on his way out.’
    Emma’s eyes widened. ‘Out? Out where?’ Her father rarely left the mill and then perhaps only on a market day. It was unheard of, at this time on a Wednesday evening, that he
should be upstairs changing from his working clothes to go out and on a day when the wind still blew strongly in the late afternoon. It was the lot of the miller that he worked at any time
of the day or night when the wind demanded.
    ‘Search me,’ Sarah shrugged. Emma eyed her keenly. The woman turned away, but not before Emma had seen the smile twitching at the corner of Sarah’s mouth.
    ‘Sarah?’ she began warningly, ‘You know something.’ At that moment Harry Forrest’s heavy boots sounded on the stairs and Sarah bustled away to busy herself wiping
the crumbs from the shelves behind the counter ready for the fresh bread to be placed there the next morning.
    The door at the bottom of the stairs opened and shut and Emma heard him cross the kitchen to leave by the door leading into the yard. Intrigued, she left the shop and went to look out of the
kitchen window. Now she could see that the mill’s five sails were