the sound of her voice. One rose quickly—the other took his time.
“Edmund?” she asked in amazement. “How is it that you're here?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Willett! You didn't know I'd been summoned?”
The captain came and took her hand and kissed it gently. She went further, inviting him briefly into her arms.
“He sent for you?” she then asked, while her neighbor watched with an expression she could not quite understand.
“Richard? Yes. I presumed you knew that. Have you two had a falling out?” Their silence caused Edmund to nod slowly. “Possibly an oversight.”
“It was intentional, Carlotta, I'm sorry to say,” Longfellow offered.
“There's no need to tell me anything you wish to keep secret,” she said. But her look assured him she was not entirely easy.
“I have never wished—” he began. Recalling his own injured feelings, he reconsidered. “Perhaps I did. But only after… well, the truth is I sent Edmund a message on Tuesday. It had to do with something odd I found by the ice—a piece of silver.”
He watched a flush of crimson mounting Charlotte's cheeks, as if he'd touched on something to embarrass her. What that might have been, he could not imagine. Perhaps, he thought, she would tell him later.
“I wasn't sure,” he continued. “And I thought you might already know about it, at any rate.”
“Know about what?” she demanded. “I've begun to feel I know very little lately—and, that there's a good deal you've not told me. I have been forming my own ideas. But how,” she added as a new thought rushed into her head, “could you have known on Tuesday of either of the—of either death?”
“I didn't.” Her neighbor paused, considering her precise choice of words. Then he plunged on. “I presume you can keep a secret, Carlotta. Will you keep the one I'm about to tell you?”
“Of course, if you ask me to.”
“All right, then. First, let's all sit down. Would you like some coffee? Here—take mine. By the way, did you see anyone in the kitchen when you came in?”
“No. Where are the others?” she asked, entering the covert spirit of the discussion she'd interrupted.
“Diana is still in bed,” said Edmund Montagu. “Reed, as well.” He brought a third chair, and sat beside her.
“Cicero,” said Longfellow, “is out in the glass house, stoking the stove. Lem should still be shoveling out front.” He looked through the window, and was satisfied to see the young man at his task. While the wind took some of each raised shovelful of snow, the rest was tossed to one side of a lengthening passage.
“I've had several aggravating moments recently,” Longfellow admitted as he came to sit with the others. “But the thing that united my growing suspicions was this.” From his waistcoat, he produced a shilling. He gave it to Charlotte.
She took the coin and examined it briefly. Then, looking straight into her neighbor's eyes, she held them.
“Is it counterfeit?”
“A lightning conclusion, Carlotta. Unless you know something else that led you in that direction. Something you have yet to tell me?”
Instead of answering, she turned to the captain with a question of her own.
“Edmund, is this why you've come? And not for Diana's sake? Are you, too, interested in this silver?”
“Yes and no,” he answered truthfully. “I will admit I was glad to have another reason to visit. My wife, you see, bolted from our home, leaving only the briefest message for me to find. From what little it said, and its vehemence, I had to assume she had no wish for me to follow.”
“Oh—I'm sorry.”
“After we had watched one another suffer for several weeks, I truly believed that a separation might help both of us to mend. It was necessary to let some things settle, I supposed, before we could hope to begin again, on better footing.”
“I should have told you earlier how—how affected Richard and I both were, to hear of your loss,” Charlotte told him earnestly.
“You both must know…” The captain looked now to Longfellow. “We all fear losing what we love one day. It's a hard thing, but loss must be felt by all whose lives are not very lonely. Or very brief, as my son's was. I hope Diana learns to accept this.”
“Perhaps she already has, to some extent,” said Longfellow. “But you'll not mention to my sister that I called Edmund for quite another reason, Carlotta?”
“I suspect you only found a roundabout way to be helpful. You could have waited a while, after all, before calling for assistance. I wonder what will