Amy Lake (12 page)

That first day was nearly magical. The snowfall continued until late in the morning, at which point the sun came out and everything glittered.

Madelaine was in heaven and could barely be persuaded to come inside to eat. She had made a snow castle near the stables and had begged Fiona for a small rug to carpet the floor. She stayed in the castle and defended it against imaginary enemies; after that grew old she and Hobbs both amused themselves by flinging snowballs over the face of the cliff.

“Don’t get too close,” Fiona warned her daughter, counting on Hobbs to prevent Maddie’s exuberance from getting out of hand.

“Come join us!” called Madelaine. The girl whooped as another missile went flying.

“Later,” said Mrs. Marwick.

It often snowed in Barley Mow during the depth of winter, but rarely so much. ’Twould not stay long, she assumed. Still, Fiona was glad when one of the village boys arrived with an enormous basket of food, having dragged it on a sled through the country lanes to the cottage door.

Lady Edwina had exclaimed politely at the sight that greeted her that morning from the kitchen windows, but made no other comment, and returned to her bedroom with a cup of tea. The marquess, on the other hand, was openly delighted with this newest bit of County Durham weather. He had bundled up for an expedition and, foreswearing any tea or breakfast for the moment, took the Bath chair down Hobbs’ ramp, and a few feet into the snow.

“You’ll never manage to get back up,” Fiona called to him, smiling despite herself.

“I have my ways,” he called back.

She found difficult to be angry with the marquess today, when all the world was sparkling and fresh and sounds so muffled that they might almost be in their own small world of Tern’s Rest, alone. Snowflakes glittered in the Lord Ashdown’s hair and made him look almost boyish, and Fiona’s heart told her of its own response.

  * * * *

Eventually—and inevitably—a snowball fight broke out between Maddie and Lord Ashdown. Madelaine attempted a sneak attack, although the intended surprise suffered somewhat from poorly suppressed giggles. The marquess was a sitting target, but his throws were accurate, and he was able to put up a spirited defense even as Maddie wore him down. Lord Ashdown’s situation had grown dire when Lady Edwina returned to the kitchen. She stood at the window and watched as her brother, laughing, brushed snow from his shoulders and shook it from his hair. She did not look particularly happy, thought Fiona, who was now preparing mulled tea. The snow would make travel impossible for days.

“Your daughter is very lively,” commented Lady Edwina.

Fiona looked up, wondering if this was a complaint. ’Twas difficult to tell with the lady, who seemed to have strong opinions on a great many things.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Marwick. “She enjoys what comes her way.”

“I see,” was the only reply.

Shortly thereafter the marquess admitted defeat, and he and Madelaine made their way back to the kitchen—the Bath chair given an assist by Hobbs—for tea.

Lord Ashdown insisted that his losses were only temporary. “I shall return to the field of battle,” he told Fiona.

“Your forces were sadly overmatched,” she countered. “I should think surrender and exile are your only choice.”

“Never!”

“I shall weep at your grave,” said Fiona, and Lord Ashdown laughed.

  * * * *

Dee arrived around midday, by which time they were all enjoying a plate of warm cinnamon scones with their second cup of tea. The scones were a recipe of Fiona’s mother, they smelled heavenly, and even Lady Edwina seemed to like them.

“What ho!” said Dee, opening the kitchen door. The doctor stomped vigorously as he entered and clumps of wet snow flew everywhere.

“Dee, good heavens—”

Lady Edwina happened to be sitting closest to the door and her day gown, a sun-yellow cambric with a wide swath of embroidery at the hem, was thoroughly spattered.

She said nothing, merely looked at Dee with raised eyebrows.

“I’m ever so sorry,” said the doctor, cheerfully. “Fiona, do I smell mulled tea?”

  * * * *

The second shoe dropped somewhat later. The adults had enjoyed an hour or so of conversation around the kitchen table, talk which had ranged over the wide topic of English weather, eventually focusing on whether the day’s snowfall was likely to be repeated that season.

Dee thought not, although the villagers of Barley Mow were claiming, as the doctor said, that this was nothing in comparison to the snows of ought-two.

“Fustian,” said Fiona, who remembered that year. “But my father said that back in eighty-three—”

“Eighty-three! Definitely not.”

The mood had been reasonably convivial, considering that Lady Edwina said little, although she again complimented Fiona on the scones. Edwina also glanced at Dr. Fischer from time to time and frowned, as if reminding herself of his deplorable conduct.

“Is this so unusual, then?” asked Lord Ashdown.

“There is usually a bit of snow every year,” replied Dee. “But yes, 'tis unusual for it to come so early.”

“Snow in November,” said Lady Edwina—for it was now a good week into that month—”ought not to be allowed.”

Then Madelaine asked if she and Dr. Fischer could go to the stables and check on Bunny and Artemis. Fiona suspected that her daughter was still thinking to ride one of the horses, and had decided that Dee was the easiest person to convince. Which was possibly the truth, although even the doctor would be unlikely to allow this scheme without Lord Ashdown's approval.

After the two had left, Colin and his sister engaged in a brief discussion of the weather in London as opposed to County Durham. Suddenly Lady Edwina stood up from the kitchen table, wrapping her heavy shawl around her shoulders. She walked over and opened the kitchen door.

“Eddie,” said Lord Ashborn. “Your shoes—”

Lady Edwina’s shoes were fine half-boots of kid leather.

“They will survive,” replied his sister, without looking back. She went outside.

Fiona and Colin looked at each other.

“Shall I?” asked Fiona, indicating the window.

“Please do,” said Lord Ashdown, whose field of view was limited from the Bath chair.

Fiona rose from the table and went to the window. Lady Edwina stood at the bottom of Hobbs’ ramp, looking in the direction of the stables, which were just out of view around the corner of the house. She stood straight and serene, the cold air glittering around her in the sun.

Fiona heard faint sounds of giggling as her daughter returned with Dr. Fischer from their visit to Bunny and Artemis. If Maddie’s goal had been to ride Bunny—or heaven forbid, Artemis—Dee had evidently resisted.

Lady Edwina bent down and scooped up a large handful of snow. She packed it carefully—Fiona was open-mouthed at this point—and as Maddie and Dee came around the corner she threw it, directly and very accurately, into the doctor’s face.

The world stopped. Maddie looked as astonished as her mother felt, and seemed unable to move. Then Dee guffawed loudly and began brushing snow out of his beard.

“What happened?
What
?” said the marquess, who was watching Mrs. Marwick's expression.

 She told him. They both burst into laughter, and when Lady Edwina returned to the kitchen there was something on her face, an expression Fiona had not seen before.

It might have been the smallest hint of a smile.

Chapter 20: Sir Irwin Pays Another Visit

Fiona looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing her best day dress, a periwinkle-blue cotton with long sleeves and a tiny bit of embroidery at the neckline. She had tried putting her hair up—decided that it looked too formal—and settled for catching the heavy curls in loose mare's tail at her neck. Her only jewelry was the locket that Joseph had given her the day they were married. It contained nothing; there was to have been a miniature someday, but they had delayed, and in the end there was no time.

Mrs. Marwick had sewn her wedding band into a small pouch of fine cambric, together with a posey of dried sweet briar; she had added a ribbon and it hung in the back of her wardrobe. Although some widows buried their rings with the departed, Fiona preferred to see it occasionally, and remember.

But 'twas not Joseph she was thinking of now.

Fiona's mind returned, as it had many times, to that moment in the stables when she knew that Lord Ashdown would kiss her—if she turned her head. She had not, and now she half-regretted losing the opportunity, which seemed unlikely to come again.

I could return to the stables, she thought. I could sit on a bale of hay and wait. He's bound to visit Bunny eventually.

Mrs. Marwick laughed softly to herself. Fiona knew she was considered beautiful, and also that in some way it did not matter. She guessed that there were enough beautiful women in London to fill Windsor Castle, and that Colin could have his pick of a fair number of them. In a way she pitied Lord Ashdown; she and Joseph had loved each other on the basis of respect and fondness and a shared life. It had not been an overwhelming passion for either of them, but on the whole they had been happy.

On what basis would the Marquess of Carinbrooke find love?

  * * * *

She heard a knock at the kitchen door and her heart fell. Sir Irwin had been absent from Tern’s Rest for a entire, blessed week, but Fiona knew it was only a matter of time before he showed up again. The door opened and the sound of a familiar male voice confirmed her suspicions.

Who had let him in? Maddie? No. Her daughter and Dee, together with his lordship, were at the stables.

“I'll see if Mrs. Marwick is receiving visitors,” came a cool, feminine voice.

Lud. Lady Edwina and the baronet.

Then Fiona grinned, because Eddie's next words were— “Who shall I inform her is calling, if you please?”

A short, aggrieved silence.

“Sir Irwin Ampthill, Baronet of Ferndale.”

“I see.”

Was it Fiona's imagination, or could she hear the sound of a female nose tipped slightly higher?

“Mrs. Marwick?”

The marquess' sister stood at her bedroom door.

“My lady.”

“That . . . person is here again.”

Fiona couldn't help it. She smiled at Lady Edwina.

She might learn to like Lord Ashdown's sister yet.

  * * * *

“Fiona, my dear,” said the baronet, as she entered the kitchen. He reached for her hand to kiss it, but she managed a quick step to the side to reach her apron. She busied herself with tying it around her waist.

“Sir Irwin, I'm surprised to see you up and about in this weather,” said Fiona.

She did not sit, nor offer him a chair. Lady Edwina remained standing at the doorway to the parlour, and on this occasion Fiona was glad for her presence. The baronet's professed affection for Mrs. Marwick unnerved her, combined as it was with that inexplicable streak of malice. She had no idea why he would pretend the one, or feel the other.

She felt as if he was somehow threatening her. But with what?

“I thought we should have a small talk,” said Ampthill, adding, “privately.”

Mrs. Marwick still did not sit. “We are as private as I care to be, Sir Irwin.”

He directed a long, speaking look at Lady Edwina, who sniffed and turned slightly aside, but did not move from the doorway.

The baronet finally said, “I came to offer my sympathy, as a neighbor. I understand you've had some disturbing news.”

Fiona's breath caught in her throat, but she replied easily. “I've had no news of any kind, Sir Irwin. Unless you are talking about Mrs. Burreyhill’s goat.”

Mrs. Burreyhill's goat had gotten loose several days past, and had gone missing until it finally turned up outside the small Barley Mow pub, looking none the worse for wear but rather hungry.

Sir Irwin was clearly annoyed at the flippant remark. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “You've had a
letter
.”

Fiona stared at him, upset enough to speak frankly. “Letter? What business is any letter of mine to you?”

“I happen to know—”

Maddie burst through the kitchen door, followed by Lord Ashdown and Dee.

“Sir . . . Irwin.” His lordship's greeting was chilly.

The doctor was even more direct.

“What do you want, Ampthill?” said Dee, and there was no mistaking the accompanying scowl.

The baronet was now truly irate. “I must speak to Mrs. Marwick at once,” he declared, “on a matter which is of no-one else's concern.”

Lord Ashdown and the doctor both turned to Fiona.

“Please ask him to leave,” said Mrs. Marwick, chagrined that her voice trembled, but determined not to show any further distress in front of Madelaine.

“I beg your pardon!”

Sir Irwin was indignant, but it was not necessary for Fiona to say more. The marquess and the doctor had him by either arm and were halfway down the ramp—she worried about Lord Ashdown’s leg at this point—before the baronet had finished expostulating.

“I'll be back!” she heard Sir Irwin say, faintly, followed by a low male voice that in its tone disagreed.

Dee and Lord Ashdown remained outside for several minutes. Lady Edwina was watching her, Fiona knew. How could she explain? But there was no need.

“That man,” said Colin's sister, “is an annoyance.” And she went back to her room without further word.

Maddie proved to be more of a problem.

“Why does Sir Irwin keep coming around here if he knows you don't like him?” asked her daughter.

“I'm . . . not sure.”

“Well I don't like him either.”

Mrs. Marwick had taught her daughter the usual rules about remaining silent in the absence of something nice to say, but on this occasion she did not have the heart for a reprimand.

Chapter 21: Coal

I happen to know—

Those words of Sir Irwin haunted Fiona for the next few days. What did he happen to know? What could he
possibly
know about her letter from Wilfred Thaxton? The baronet was not from this area, so he could scarcely be familiar with the Marwick family.