but he wouldn't tell me where—and then he hid my shoes. It took me an hour to find the boots I'm wearing, which I'm sorry to say are his—”
“Come with me, then. He can guess what's become of you,” Charlotte added, having already seen someone looking out of a tall window across the yard. “I would appreciate some advice, since I've heard a great deal today.”
“Is Hannah not there?”
“Before I left this morning, Henry came up to tell me his mother's sciatica is troubling her again.”
“Then I'll gladly come and keep you company. I will be happy to hear anything new. What's going on down there?” she asked, looking briefly over her shoulder. “Clearly, it's something that interests both you and my brother. Is it left over from yesterday's fête?”
“In a way,” Charlotte answered. The storm took her next words, and flung them far down the hill toward Bracebridge. Holding on to the young woman at her side, she hurried them both along through curtains of snow.
Chapter 16
THE TALL CLOCK at the bottom of the stairs told them it was a little after two, when they entered the front door of the old farmhouse. It was already dark inside, but at least they didn't find themselves alone. Orpheus greeted them happily, and Charlotte bent to stroke him, rewarding his patience before she let him out into the snow.
In the kitchen she knelt to fan the embers of the morning's fire, then added fresh sticks of dry wood from which smoke immediately began to curl. Next came a pair of stout logs. Soon the hearth gave off not only a steady heat, but a welcome, flickering light. To cheer them further, Charlotte went to the pantry and brought back four joined tapers, cut apart their wicks, then inserted them into brass candlesticks. When she'd placed them around the room, glimmers came back from the window panes and a small hanging mirror, and from silver, pewter, and copper objects on the shelves.
Upstairs she found a pair of slippers. She brought these down and offered them to Diana, who had already removed the boots she wore. Charlotte put on a pair of house shoes. “Tea?” she asked.
“Thank you, no. I've had nothing to do but drink tea all day, and it's ruined my nerves.”
“Some sharp cider, then.”
Going off once more, Charlotte took a candle down the cellar steps, and returned with a jug. Bubbles at the top told her it would be just the thing. She poured two glasses, then went to let Orpheus inside. With duties and comforts taken care of, the women settled to talk.
Charlotte began with the too-familiar tale of the morning's activities.
“I knew something had happened!” Diana cried after hearing the worst. “I never saw this Godwin boy, did I? At least I never met him, though he was there yesterday. Have they told his family?”
“The Godwins moved to Worcester many years ago. From what I gather, Alex has lately had only a little contact with them. Someone will go and tell them as soon as the storm subsides, I'm sure—if no one's gone already.”
“I'm very sorry for them. But there won't be much anyone can do.”
Charlotte sensed Diana had gained new compassion as a result of her own loss. Yet something else seemed to carry her on with a nervous intensity.
“That's not exactly right, since it was clearly murder. What is Richard doing about it?”
“He's gone with Constable Dudley, to talk to the woman who allowed Alex a room in her house. Then they meant to visit the Sloans, to speak with Martha.”
“The one Lem missed so last summer, while he was in Boston?”
“The same.”
“How is she involved? They can't believe a woman would have killed in such a brutal way?”
“I think they would like to be sure Martha gave Lem no cause for jealousy.”
“Oh. And did she?”
“I doubt it.”
“So, nothing really ties Lem to this awful deed, except the hatchet.”
“Left in this…” Charlotte lifted the canvas bag from the floor, where she'd set it when she refreshed the fire. Now she looked at it more carefully, to make sure nothing but the scarf was inside. “It's said it was taken home in error last night—by John Dudley, our new constable.”
“There is a man I hardly like. Every time Dudley has been pointed out to me, he's been drunk. What is his wife's name?”
“Rachel.”
“She lost a son a few years ago, didn't she?”
“That's true.”
“Having children can be a terrible thing. It could be, Charlotte, that you were fortunate