A Mischief in the Snow - By Margaret Miles Page 0,89
day, during which it rained nearly a foot, in a fit of terrible cruelty, he promised his only daughter to a fellow from Philadelphia.”
“Against her wishes?” his sister asked.
“Yes, Diana. Then, however, as romance will rise like cream in a bucket—a reference for you, Mrs. Willett— the daughter foolishly disobeyed her father and formed an entirely unsuitable attachment herself. Because the neighborhood lacked any really good families, she decided to trust her fate to a brown bear of the forest—”
“Richard!” his sister cried reprovingly.
“It is only fiction, Diana… or perhaps a natural history. Yet as it turned out, this was a visiting coal merchant from Newcastle, and quite a wealthy one, too—which was not quite as bad.”
“Though very nearly,” Montagu interjected.
“As the case may be. And yet—and yet! A dark and mournful force had come to haunt the castle, nightly walking the corridors, sighing and moaning and leaving wax drippings for which small boys were frequently blamed. Life is indeed full of injustice, Captain Montagu, as you say. But one young fellow, I believe, grew up to find that he was entitled to everything the castle contained— yet only if he married at once, and swore upon his honor never to forget his wedding date, to the end of time. That idea will touch the sensitive reader, I think, and provide you with a reminder, Edmund. Now tell me, is this a new species of romance?”
“It is a new species of something, Richard. And a fine soporific. I am going to bed. Diana?”
“A very good idea—before my brother thinks of something worse, which I know he's quite capable of doing. Thank you, Edmund.” She took his offered arm and rose to her feet, glancing as she did so to Charlotte, who still seemed lost in a dream of her own.
Longfellow bent and touched his neighbor's hand, causing her to look up into his eyes.
“Oh,” she said, her gaze lingering.
“Ah!” Diana suddenly exclaimed, in a manner so forceful that Edmund stepped back to examine her.
“Are you all right, dear?” he asked with some concern.
“I'm well enough,” his wife told him, smiling somewhat smugly, he thought. “Don't worry, Edmund,” she then said as they walked toward the door. “It was only a pin, popped out of place. Let us go to bed. I believe Richard and Charlotte will do well enough now, on their own.”
Chapter 32
ON FRIDAY MORNING, Charlotte awoke to discover two things that seemed curious. First, she was in Richard Longfellow's bed, a large piece of furniture with no curtains, but plenty of feathers. It was admittedly comfortable, yet she herself was not—until she recalled he'd sent her to bed after a final glass of port, saying that he intended to camp out next to Cicero in the kitchen.
She heard a stirring below, where they must have begun breakfast. Perhaps that was why Orpheus was not with her as she'd expected. Rising, she closed the door the clever dog had found some way of opening, washed quickly in water from a pitcher, and looked carefully at her face in a mirror, to see if she was in any way changed. Then she dressed, and went to join the others.
Next to the east room where she'd slept, she passed one claimed by Diana on all her visits, where she and Edmund were probably still asleep. Next to that was the room given to Moses Reed. Cicero's at the west end had been offered first to Lem, who'd now moved out to accommodate Magdalene Knowles. It was a full house, to be sure.
As she stooped to re-buckle a shoe, Charlotte reminded herself that Longfellow had acted as a gentleman. And yet, she did feel a little disappointed. That was nonsense. They were old friends. And if they were to become something more, it would not happen overnight. At least, it had not happened last night.
In the kitchen, Orpheus bounded to her side, his tail flashing.
“Up at last?” Longfellow asked. He continued to toast pieces of bread in a wire basket while Cicero made fresh coffee, nodding his own greeting.
“At least before the sun.”
“Barely, for it's after seven. Lem has gone to do the milking, and I've already been on a mission to the inn. I had to beg Elizabeth for breakfast provisions for our little army.”
“I'm surprised you woke so early.”
“A straw bed on the floor makes sleep something of a challenge.”
“I'm sorry to have kept you from your own bed, which was delightful.”