Free Crystal Gardens by Amanda Quick

turned red and hurriedly got out of the way. “Yes, right, I beg your pardon, Miss Ames.” She cast another quick glance at Lucas. “Will you be wanting tea, miss?”
    It was on the tip of Evangeline’s tongue to inform Molly that she and Clarissa and Beatrice had just had tea in town but it occurred to her that Lucas presented a dilemma. There was nothing for it but to offer him tea.
    “Please, Molly.” She untied the strings of her bonnet. “We will take it in the parlor.”
    “Yes, Miss Ames.” Molly dipped an unpracticed curtsy and rushed off to the kitchen.
    Evangeline waited while her friends removed their bonnets and gloves and then she waved Clarissa, Beatrice and Lucas into the parlor. “Please be seated, Mr. Sebastian. I’ll just go and have a word with Molly.”
    She ushered the three into the small space, closed the door and went quickly into the kitchen. She found Molly bustling about in a state of great excitement.
    “It’s Mr. Sebastian himself, right here in this very house,” Molly said, speaking in a loud whisper.
    “Yes, I did notice.”
    “Wait until I tell Ma and Pa that I served tea to the new owner of Crystal Gardens.”
    “Try to contain yourself, Molly,” Evangeline said.
    “They say in town that Mr. Sebastian is very likely as mad as his uncle but he doesn’t look the least bit deranged to me.”
    “He certainly doesn’t look deranged to me, either,” Evangeline said briskly. “And I think it would be best if you did not pay any attention to such gossip.”
    “No, miss.”
    “I just wanted to make sure you could deal with tea for so many people.”
    “Never fear, miss, I help my ma make breakfast and supper for my family, all ten of us, every day. During the harvest I’m in the kitchen with the other women cooking from dawn until dusk for the men in the fields. Tea for the four of you is nothing.”
    It was clear Molly was thrilled at finding herself in such close proximity to the mysterious new owner of the old abbey. Evangeline did not have the heart to quash her enthusiasm. Pretty and rosy-cheeked, Molly was eighteen years old. She was an intelligent, irrepressible young woman who loved to read the serialized novels in the newspapers. When she had discovered that Evangeline was writing such a story, she had begged to be allowed to read the chapters being sent off in small batches to the publisher at the end of every week. Evangeline had been reluctant at first but in the end she had relented. Molly’s delight with each new scene in
Winterscar
had been gratifying.
    It was a pity Molly was fated to marry one of the local farmers, Evangeline thought. Molly possessed a great curiosity about the world beyond the borders of the village where she had been born and raised. She talked often of saving her money for a trip to London. But Evangeline knew that the reality was that the girl was unlikely to travel anyfarther than the neighboring town to see a traveling circus or take in a fair. She would probably never get to London.
    Molly’s future was not altogether dreadful, Evangeline reminded herself. There was, in fact, much to be said for life in a small, safe village, far removed from the dangers of London’s streets. But that life promised to be filled with a great deal of sunup-to-sundown work on a farm and very little in the way of mental stimulation. She sensed that sooner or later the endless routine and the drudgery would dampen even Molly’s bright spirits.
    “Go on back to your guests, Miss Ames,” Molly said. “I’ll bring the tray in straightaway.” She used both hands to swing the heavy iron kettle onto the stove. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that my uncle came by while you were out and fixed the lock on the kitchen door. Good as new now.”
    Evangeline glanced at the new lock. It looked very sturdy. “Please tell your uncle that I am grateful.”
    “It was no problem.” Molly opened a cupboard and began taking down cups and saucers. “He says it