A Mischief in the Snow - By Margaret Miles Page 0,68

them all these years?”

“No.”

“A romantic story,” said Edmund. “Did this boy die?”

“No, I think she believes she's seen him.”

“Recently?” asked Longfellow.

“I can't say, but it's what I suppose.”

“On an island she never leaves,” he said quietly. “That supports my earlier idea. Godwin must be the one in the will.”

“I wonder,” Charlotte replied. “Why did she make two wills in such a little time?”

“The elderly often retain strong convictions, while they sometimes lose the ability to judge rationally. Reed will probably have his own ideas. One thing, though, seems certain. He will want to visit the island soon, to look through the rest of his client's papers. We might go along, I think, to help Magdalene claim her possessions.”

“Is it possible that she was the beneficiary in the last will?” asked Charlotte.

“Reed assured us she has no more than a small trust, which he'll continue to manage for her.”

“That's what I thought. Catherine said she'd been passed over before.”

“I'm not sure,” said Montagu, “how this business of heirs will turn out, or if the old woman was pushed or not. But let us suppose whoever did murder Godwin decides to fly. Should that happen, Richard, we may never get our hands on him.”

“Perhaps we should ask no more about Alex for the moment. Nor shall we tell the village just yet what Mrs. Knowles imagined. That doesn't stop us from pursuing the other matter. This moneymaking ring includes too many, I think, for it to remain hidden much longer. We may make some progress there with a few discreet inquiries and a little pressure. Before long, we'll learn who's at its head.”

“And yet…” Charlotte began.

“Yes, Carlotta?”

“Think of the position of anyone who agrees to tell what's been done, whether he was a part of it or not. Wouldn't many call him less than honorable? Especially if an oath has been sworn?”

“Lem, for instance?”

Her expression told him he'd guessed the source of her anxiety. Longfellow nodded slowly, for he supposed that she was right. He had no wish to shame the boy, even in the eyes of less scrupulous neighbors. “But just who are we to ask, then?”

“I think I may have a way…”

Sounds at the back of the house caught their attention. The captain then made his way up the stairs to see his wife, for he'd heard movement above as well. Orpheus led Longfellow and Charlotte to the kitchen, where they found Moses Reed helping Magdalene out of the woolen wrappings wound around her feet. The woman gazed at her new surroundings with more interest than she'd shown the night before, when she'd come into a darker kitchen.

“You're very welcome here, Miss Knowles,” Longfellow told her, smiling calmly. “I hope you'll feel as you do at home.” This sounded highly inappropriate, and so he tried again. “Whatever you need, you have only to ask for. We're glad to have you with us for as long as you wish to stay.”

Magdalene nodded. Moses Reed led her to a seat by the fire, where she began to warm herself.

“Have you spoken with Miss Knowles about the rest?” Longfellow asked the lawyer quietly, once he'd walked him a little distance from the hearth.

“She seemed not quite ready.”

“Reed, do you know she gave birth to a son?”

“Yes, I know of the birth. It was accomplished without the benefit of a ceremony. Or even a midwife, I believe.”

“Was it, by God?” Longfellow's eyes went to the lost woman by the hearth. “Do you know what became of the boy?”

“Quite soon, you will hear reasons for what Mrs.

Knowles insisted on doing, when he was only a few months old. In this, I must admit, I assisted her.”

“When?” Longfellow demanded. “When may we know the rest?”

“Later today, I promise you. It can hardly matter if we wait a little longer. This afternoon I will explain it all. But I must prepare the way, and do the thing properly. For too long this unfortunate woman has been abused! Let us not be guilty of the same thing.”

Longfellow said no more. Instead, he turned to practical matters.

“We'll scrape together a breakfast. A ham hangs in my cellar, and there are eggs. We have cheese, preserves, plenty of flour, and cornmeal. What do you say to a hasty pudding with cream and maple sugar, Mrs. Willett? Or do you suggest biscuits?”

Since the oven had not been used for some time, pot pudding was chosen. Cicero and Lem returned to the house, and there were plenty of hands to help in