Free Miss Farrow's Feathers by Susan Gee Heino Page B

distance. The hairs pricked at the back of her neck, though. Why should she be so on edge? Indeed, if there was anything to fear here, it was Meg's own conscience, clearly quite unsettled by her lies and deceit. This sort of thing was not at all her usual manner and her stomach churned over and over because of it.
    She had lied to Papa, lied to Mr. Shirley, and was now heading off to meet Mr. Perkins to work at concealing yet something else. Heavens, how had she come to this? It was no wonder her nerves were frayed and she felt quite a wreck. It would serve her right to develop digestive spasms after this.
    But now the horse's ears did flick. Indeed, Meg had heard a twig crunch in the brush behind them, and the animal heard it, too. She glanced back. Again, there was nothing and no one. It appeared she and her horse were alone on the road.
    Well, the little creek bed that had been running along near the road veered off toward the east and with it the undergrowth. For the next mile, Meg would have nothing but open farmland on either side. If anyone was following, she would certainly see them, and hopefully be able to avoid any confrontation. She slapped the horse into a more rapid trot and soon left any tree, creekbed, or possible hiding place far behind her.
    Glenwick Downs was just on ahead, over the next roll in landscape. She would be within eyesight of the place soon enough, and Mr. Perkins would see she was safe once she got there. There was nothing to fear, except her own guilty conscience, of course.
    Her stomach rumbled and churned again. Oh, but this guilt was tortuous! How was she to manage it? By keeping her time with Mr. Perkins as brief as possible, obviously. If she was quick, she might even have time to stop in at Miss Bent's house on her way home. Yes, that's what she could do.
    Miss Bent's home was just along her way. She had passed it not ten minutes after leaving Mr. Shirley behind, in fact. If she stopped there on her return—even just to say a quick hello and then be off—she might feel so much better about this evening. Why, she would only be half of a liar, then.
    Her conscience felt light er at the thought of it and her stomach stopped churning. A bit. Mostly, though, she was just eager to get to the Downs and have this unpleasant task over with.
    Just as she came around the bend that led to the grand entrance for the Downs, her eye caught on something off in the distance. A figure, moving in the foliage along the now distant creek bed. No, she was imagining. It was a shadow of something, perhaps, but at this distance it was impossible to say what. A deer, someone's hound, a wandering swine... anything, really. Whatever it was should not concern her, of course. It was too far away and clearly not following her. If there had been anything there, it was moving off into the distance, keeping to the shelter of the creek bed as it wound its way toward the lake behind Glenwick Downs.
    She, however, was just passing through the heavy stone gate that would welcome her into Glenwick Downs. She could make out the row of mismatched chimneys along the grand roof even from here. A long, tree-lined lane would take her over a low crest and there the house would be laid out before her. No matter how many times she and Papa had been invited to visit, the sight always took her breath away.
    And tonight was no different. The imposing stone walls of the manor looked like burnished gold in the evening sunlight. The tiled roofs tilted at a hundred different angles, yet seemed perfectly in harmony with one another as they sheltered the many rooms and alcoves of the great, ancient house. Sunlight glinted off the tiles, making shades and shadows, drawing her to wonder at the countless secrets the place seemed to hold.
    The windows —it looked like a hundred of them—sparkled the orange and red sunset in their many panes. The grounds surrounding the house boasted manicured lawns and carefully planted groves. The rose garden