A Mischief in the Snow - By Margaret Miles Page 0,82

Abigail died, only Jonah knew the secret.”

“And Ned?” asked Charlotte. “Do you suppose he knows?”

“I think—I hope—that he does not. Nor that he was for a brief time Catherine's heir. The first of two.”

“Was he!” Longfellow exclaimed, enlightened on that point, at last. “I'm not certain I'm glad to hear it—but tell me this, Reed. If Catherine Knowles didn't wish Ned to inherit from the Philadelphia family, why did she leave him her own estate?”

“I believe that with her end in sight, she wished to make amends for his earlier rejection, which she came to see as unfair. She asked for his name, and I gave it to her— though she had no wish to see the boy. And at last, she wrote out a will. Perhaps, too, she had Magdalene in mind. She never told her what would happen after her death, but it seems she never quite trusted the Philadelphia family to see to Magdalene's happiness.”

“Did they know, in Philadelphia, that Ned would be revealed as Magdalene's son? Or that Catherine changed her mind a final time?” asked Longfellow.

“She never told me. In either case, the head of that family was still her secondary heir, should something happen to the first. She had no one else. Now that Godwin is gone, I suppose they will be glad to learn they'll lose nothing to the widow of Peter Knowles, after all.”

“The old woman did Ned a great disservice, it seems to me,” Longfellow said soberly. “That boy is anything but simple. He's learned much on his own, and has an admirable spirit. Though lately—”

“But she had good reason to question his abilities, Richard, given the circumstances.” This came from Edmund Montagu, and he continued forcefully. “I've seen some who were not up to the task destroyed by the assumption of wealth—worse, they've often caused innocents to fall with them. When a first-born lacks physical strength, or mental ability, how can he do justice to his family, who depend on him?…”

Montagu let the thought drift away. Had he gone too far? Would his wife see his true meaning—the one that had been seared into his memory, into his heart? Their own son had been too weak to survive. Had he lived, could he have faced life squarely? Would he have been able to handle the family wealth, or the title if it had come to him, one day? And should his father have hated himself for having such a thought, when young Charlie, small and sick, lay dying?

“At any rate,” said Reed, “the final document did not favor Ned Bigelow”

“Why,” asked Longfellow, “do you suppose that was?”

“I don't know. Perhaps Mrs. Knowles learned of something that made her feel Magdalene's son was unworthy, after all.”

“A charge of counterfeiting?”

The lawyer's reaction told Longfellow that Reed, too, had realized what had been going on in the village. Damn him!

“That is possible,” the attorney replied quietly. “As I agreed to defend Lem Wainwright, I will now offer my services to Magdalene Knowles to protect her son, if anyone sees fit to charge him. With anything at all.”

It was no more than Longfellow had expected from a member of the legal profession. “A charge will wait,” he returned, “until other things are sorted out. In all probability, it won't take long.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” Reed said uncertainly.

“But you will, sir. Soon. Very soon.”

Giving the attorney a meaningful smile, Longfellow rose and turned to Charlotte. “Mrs. Willett, I believe Lem will need to attend to your cows. I think it might be advisable for you to go along.”

Realizing that he wished her to ask Lem what he knew of the coins, and the island, and anything else he may have kept hidden—knowing, too, that it was time— Charlotte rose and went out before the others.

Chapter 29

THE SWEET SMELL of fodder surrounded them while milk began to hiss into empty pails, inside the dark barn. With their lanterns nearby, Charlotte and Lem settled once more into an old habit. Happily familiar, it gave them a chance to think with their hands busy.

Today, both knew something unusual would be expected.

Charlotte began by saying they'd been told Ned Bigelow was once in line for an inheritance, though that would now go back to Philadelphia—and, that Magdalene was the boy's mother. When she'd finished, Lem whooped from the next stall.

“There's something I never expected to hear!”

“Do you think Ned knew?”

“If he did know about his mother, he never said. As long as I've known him, he's been worried