A Mischief in the Snow - By Margaret Miles Page 0,15
asked, I believe she would refuse to go to London. Yet it seems the governor may be off before long, and so I wonder about the captain…”
“Oh!” The new thought saddened Charlotte further— and she could imagine why Cicero found it alarming. Diana was willful and did tend to be inconsiderate, though the happiness she'd found with Edmund seemed to improve the common faults of a child raised by doting women. The captain had been able to moderate his wife's quick opinions by exposing her to his own, which were generally more charitable. But if he were to go—?
“In that event,” she asked, “do you really think Diana would choose to live here with Richard, rather than return to her mother's house in Boston? Since she dislikes the country, such a course would hardly seem prudent.”
“No,” Cicero agreed with a sharp look, until she saw his point. Prudence was not always Diana's guide, especially when her feelings offered to lead the way.
But were any of them different, when something threatened the flame at the core of one's heart? Then, did wisdom or reason offer the best protection? When she'd lost Aaron, she'd wished it wasn't so—wished so hard it seemed he'd returned to comfort her. If his imagined presence was not exactly real, it was certainly something. To this day, she might find herself surprised by an unexpected touch, a familiar scent, the sound of steps, or rustling… things that had been born of great need, she suddenly saw, as much as by desire.
Knowing she would think more on each of these matters as the night wore on, Charlotte bid Cicero a fond good evening, and set off for her own fireside.
Chapter 5
IT WAS REFRESHING to walk out into the dark, past the bare, pruned stubs of Longfellow's mulched roses, and on to her own kitchen garden. Again, Charlotte found the cold air useful for clearing her thoughts. She stopped a moment to appreciate the hour, pleased with the warmth her wool cloak gave her, and the smoothness of the silk scarf she'd wrapped about her throat.
Something new attracted her attention—something not right. The sky had flickered, as if it were lit by lightning high above the clouds. But there were no clouds this evening, except for a single mare's tail that glowed faintly in the starlight. But there it was again—an illumination that might have come from a giant lamp, held high above the northern pole. With this thought, she knew that what she saw was a pale form of the aurora. Fascinated by this rare display, she watched vague patches of light scurry back and forth across the heavens.
Though the aurora borealis did seem magical, it was a natural occurrence. She'd heard it said these northern lights, particularly when beautifully colored, were an omen of evil. She did not believe it. Why they came and went, none knew exactly, but she thought them lovely. Yet they did nothing to combat the cold, and so at last she lifted her door's latch and went inside.
In the kitchen, her nose twitched at the scent of hanging herbs and a pine fire, while her eyes enjoyed a scene she'd expected. Lem was engrossed in a book. Orpheus, who'd been asleep, got slowly to his feet. Shaking his speckled fur, he approached and put his soft muzzle against her hand, while his feathery tail and hind quarters wagged a further welcome.
At the sound of her voice, Lem got up, took her cloak, and hung it on a peg behind the door.
Charlotte removed her shoes and sat with her skirts drawn in, until Lem had tossed another log into the fire.
“How was the ice this afternoon?” he asked, taking a seat beside her.
When she'd arrived earlier he'd been in the barn, busy with the evening milking. He'd not seen her run swiftly up the stairs to change her clothing, and re-pin her hair.
“Exhilarating,” she said at last, glad to have found a truthful answer. She had been cheered to find the outcome no worse.
There seemed to be a further query in his eyes. If, she thought once more, she planned to return to the island, Lem would be a logical companion. Or, she might ask him to give the spoon and cloak to Alexander Godwin. She decided she would tell him something more of her day after all.
“I paid a visit to Boar Island.”
“What! I'd no idea you were acquainted with those women. Were you invited?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.