A Mischief in the Snow - By Margaret Miles Page 0,22
a landing. On Boar Island.”
“What on earth were you doing there?”
“I went skating yesterday afternoon,” Charlotte returned mildly. Her heart, however, began to beat quickly.
“Ah, my joints ache just to think of it… did you decide you'd climb up and have a chat with the two old women?” Hannah asked with growing disbelief.
“Magdalene is several years younger than you.”
“Thank you for that bit of information. If you found the spoon on the ice there, why did you not take it up to them?”
“I found it when I was about to leave, at sunset.”
Hannah considered the travels of the young woman before her, as well as those of the missing spoon, now found. “I've long told you,” she said at last, “eerie things happen near that accursed place—probably in the great house, as well. Though no worse than the high times once had there, I'm sure. Another Merry Mount, they used to say it was. Lately, Samuel says, men have seen the strange lights again.”
“Lights and colors,” Charlotte murmured, recalling the rose mirror she'd seen over the hearth.
“Colors? I don't know about that—but I wonder what Samuel would say to hear of this?” Hannah contemplated the spoon Charlotte had just set down.
“I hope he doesn't hear of it. I'll take it to Rachel when I go back to the pond, to see if it's hers after all.”
Still pondering, Charlotte went down the cellar steps, candle in hand. Below, she bent over a barrel of sand and removed a layer of carrots, then chose two papery spheres from a nearby nest of onions, each held from touching the next by wood shavings. She took up a pan of dried cod set to soak the night before, and a small bowl of salt pork she'd cut from a hanging leg. Balancing carefully, she took these things upstairs.
On a further trip to one of the cold bedrooms above, she picked out the most shriveled potatoes in store. Soon after, the kitchen began to fill with the smell of crisping pork and fresh-cut onions. Then, she heard a knock on the back door.
Wiping her hands and face, Charlotte went to see, expecting to find women from the ice coming to visit and warm themselves. Instead, to her embarrassment, she found the answer to her earlier question. There had been something important, and she'd forgotten all about it— an appointment with the man who had acted as Aaron's attorney. Moses Reed had written earlier in the month from Boston, saying he wished to bring her papers to transfer a small legacy from her late husband's family.
“Mr. Reed!” she exclaimed.
The pleasant-looking man stepped inside, allowing the door to be swiftly shut behind him. He was a few years past forty, but still quite fit; his upper face showed he'd taken the smallpox. His jaw was of greater interest, for it was covered with an amusing beard—soft curls of dark brown hairs a few inches long. Both women stared at this sight, for it was something rarely seen on the face of a gentleman, at least in New England. If beards were the fashion in other lands, here they marked men who had no fear of taunting children, or of more subtle disapproval from their peers.
Charlotte took her visitor's hat and heavy coat, noticing a glint of appreciation for her own appearance in his darting eyes. At the same time she heard Hannah hurry through one of the doors that flanked the hearth.
“Am I too early, Mrs. Willett? I fear I've startled you. Perhaps I've been somewhat forward in coming to your back door,” Moses Reed apologized. “But I see your kitchen is warm and snug, as well as busy.” He continued to assess the industry around him with his eyes and nose.
“I'm glad to see you, sir, of course! But I'm afraid, well, the truth is—”
“You had forgotten me! Never mind. There was a good chance the weather would delay my arrival, but I'm glad to say I reached Bracebridge last evening, as planned. I've since been presuming on the kindness of your minister.”
“You chose to stay with Reverend Rowe?”
“Less of an expense than the Bracebridge Inn, and more comfortable than the Blue Boar. With a large house at his disposal, I felt sure Mr. Rowe would not object… after I told him I intend to leave a donation.”
Charlotte still had to wonder at his choice, and only hoped her expression didn't reveal this fact. Moses Reed smiled, and explained further.