A Mischief in the Snow - By Margaret Miles Page 0,55
just occurred.
“Let's not speculate,” Reed said swiftly. “Let us, instead, ask both of them what, exactly, they saw today. Lem, I think, will go back with Mr. Longfellow this evening. If I'm offered a bed there myself, I'll have a chance to ask your young man a few things more. You may find an opportunity to question Miss Knowles, if she is to stay here.”
“It would be quieter for her, I suppose.”
“Given time to recover, she may recall something. She's not entirely without sense.”
“Do you know her, Mr. Reed?”
“We have met before.”
“What you suggest does seem the best plan.”
“I would also ask that you say nothing to any of the others yet, about what Mrs. Knowles may have felt, or imagined. At least until we've obtained more facts.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“If you'd like, I'll see to moving her into an unheated room.”
“The one at the top of the stairs is the coolest.”
“I'll go down and speak with Mr. Longfellow.”
Moses Reed moved away from the bed, but went first to the north window where he spoke to the two women.
“Her suffering was brief. It is over.”
Diana nodded, but made no other reply.
“Miss Knowles? Mrs. Willett will care for you here, tonight. Have no fear. Rest. Later, you may begin to think of what you would like to do.”
Magdalene, too, said nothing.
The lawyer sighed. “Mrs. Montagu, if you and your brother have no objection, I would prefer to stay near Lem, this evening.”
“I'm sure that will be fine.” Diana rose. Giving no more than a glance to the woman she'd tended, she made her way to the door. “A word, Charlotte?” she called back.
Passing them in the hall a moment later, Moses Reed went quietly down the stairs.
“You know,” Diana then said, “that my ears are nearly as good as your own, Charlotte. And the room is not a large one.”
“You heard?”
“Most, I think. At least at the end, when I held my breath. I listened for Magdalene's, too. Either she is very cold, or she didn't understand. Or perhaps her hearing is not as acute as ours. But I rather think it is the first.”
“Mrs. Knowles has told me that Magdalene was born a natural child.”
“Do you mean to say that her father—?”
“No, not that. She has always had an affliction. Magdalene is not as we are, as you've probably seen; there are things she's unable to grasp. She is, in some ways, simple.”
“Well, do be careful. The old woman may have been right in blaming someone.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Be safe. Lock your bedroom door tonight.”
For the first time, it occurred to Charlotte that she would offer Magdalene the far room, while Catherine would soon lie in the first along the hall. That left her own bed, here. More than one life had ended in it, she told herself. Those of her parents, in fact. And before that? It was not sensible to be squeamish about such things. Most slept in beds passed down to them.
“I'll give Magdalene something to help her sleep,” Charlotte decided, suspecting that she herself would choose the kitchen, after all. “If she'll agree to it.”
“Good. Take none yourself.”
“But I really can't imagine—”
“Well, I can. We'll need further proof, of course, before accusing anyone. But not that kind of proof!”
“Go and sleep well, yourself. You and Cicero will have your hands full.”
“Rowe and that awful constable can't stay for long.
The snow shows no sign of letting up, and you know what that can mean. May the Lord protect anyone out on the roads on a night like this!”
Had she known that one traveler, in particular, was not far away on the road from Boston, Diana would have prayed all the harder.
Chapter 19
EDMUND MONTAGU REINED in his horse for perhaps the hundredth time, wondering how he had ever gotten himself into such a situation.
Once he regained the road, he would find the village of Bracebridge. The builders had made enough cuts through the low hills to indicate where it might be, but he'd seen none of them for half an hour due to the snow—now, the increasing gloom had turned to night.
There was no point in going back. The wind continued to hurl sheets of icy snow at his horse's tail. Because his lantern illuminated nothing more than what whirled around him, he'd begun to feel as though he walked through an endless box, whose dull sides never changed.
If his horse had known where they were going, perhaps it could have been trusted. But home for his