Read Online Abigail Jones (Chronicles of Abigail Jones #1) by Grace Callaway - Free Book Online Page A

books, Mary Jane, more books than I'd wager even my aunt read in her lifetime. The earl has collections of philosophy, history, even poetry and novels—"
    "Will you be working in close quarters with him, then?"
    Taken aback by Jack's disapproving tone, I stammered, "H-he is my employer, Jack. I'll be taking my orders from him, yes—"
    "He's a known scoundrel." With a frown, Jack crossed his arms over his chest. "Think on it, Abby. Why else would he hire a girl like you to be his secretary? When with a snap of his lordly fingers,"—Jack's thumb and finger clicked together—"he could have the most learned men of the land at his beck and call?"
    Stung, I found myself at a loss for words. Et tu, Jack? I thought he, of all people, would understand. That some of us, try as we might, would never fit into the proper mold. We could only follow the paths open to us and pray that that would lead to what ordinary, decent folk took for granted. Meaning and purpose. Acceptance.
    But apparently Jack found my decision wanting. He found me wanting.
    In that instant, my exhilaration shriveled and vanished. Joy deflated out of me. I felt myself becoming the odd girl again. The bastard with the lunatic mother. The outcast without prospects or merit, without family or friends to turn to.
    "You're a good girl, Abby, and you should know your place in the world," Jack said.
    Hurt rolled through me, but I stiffened my spine. "All your talk of m-modern advancement. Of possibility. You can imagine a world without God, Jack, but you cannot imagine me making a success of myself?"
    "Not as a secretary, I can't," he replied bluntly.
    "His lordship is going to pay me five pounds a month for my services." The boast spouted from my lips. " He thinks I'm worthy of such a sum."
    Jack's boyish face hardened into cynical lines. "What services does he expect you to render? Don't be a naive fool."
    My face flamed at Jack's implication. I could feel my limbs trembling. It was one thing for me to have had that concern; it was another entirely for him to voice it aloud.
    Before I could reply, Mary Jane broke in, "You're just as smart as anybody I know, Abby. Even if you're a girl. No one tells a story like you do."
    "Thank you, Mary Jane," I said stiffly.
    "If she's smart, she'll do the proper thing and keep to her station." Jack's chin lifted. "There's plenty of decent work in the village. The inns are always in want of maids—"
    "Thank you, but I don't wish to be a maid any longer." Willing away the hot pressure behind my eyes, I said to Mary Jane, "I think we best go back now before anyone discovers us gone."
    As we turned to leave, Jack's voice halted me. "Abby—"
    I forced myself to look at him.
    "I—I just don't want to see you hurt is all," he said, his hands fisted at his sides.
    Giving a quick nod, I climbed down the ladder and escaped into the cold. I did not want to let him see he'd done that very thing.

SEVEN
    The rest of the weekend passed in a similar dismal fashion. Jack seemed to be avoiding me, which was just as well, for I had little to say to him. His mother, however, dogged me like a terrier. At every turn, Mrs. Simon barked her disapproval at me. The laundry was not strung tight enough, Tommy had not been washed properly behind his ears, the turnips were overdone—it seemed I could do nothing right in her eyes. I thought Sunday evening could not arrive soon enough.
    But when it did and I found myself back at Hope End, a different source of trepidation grew within me. I dreaded telling Mrs. Beecher of my change in circumstance. Given Jack's reaction, I fretted. What might she think? What might she assume had transpired between Earl Huxton and me? My worries did not prove unfounded. Not a quarter hour after my return, she came into my room and shut the door behind her. Her hands planted at her waist.
    "The earl informed me that you are now his secretary," she said in a voice that climbed with agitation. "His personal secretary. Is this true?