Into the Wilderness (125 page)

"You
see," aunt Merriweather said. "As the widow of my late nephew you are
your own mistress. Marry again, and you are subject to your new husband's
whims."

Kitty
stood there swaying slightly, as if she could not quite make sense of these
words.

"Either
set down, or hand over that boy before you drop him," Curiosity said,
holding out her arms for the baby.

The
blank stare on Kitty's face lasted for a long moment, and then she swallowed
visibly, and handed her son to Curiosity. She sat down heavily, and turned to
Elizabeth
with a
questioning look.

"I
might really go with them to
England
?
To live?"

"The
invitation was made,"
Elizabeth
said.

Aunt
Merriweather said: "We shall spend the winter visiting and we shall come
back here before we sail—to greet the newest member of the family." She
inclined her head slightly in Elizabeth's direction; the closest she would come
to acknowledging her pregnancy in public. "Your son will be old enough to
travel then, and you may sail with us. I hope you will."

"I
had no idea," Kitty said.

"But
now you do," aunt Merriweather said firmly.

The
child in Curiosity's arms suddenly began to twist and arch as the small face
screwed itself into a knot of misery to produce one long and plaintive wail. In
response, two circles of moisture appeared on Kitty's bodice. She made a small
distressed noise, glancing around herself in panic and embarrassment.
Elizabeth
felt a tugging
in her own breast; whether out of sympathy with Kitty, or with the child's
hunger, she was not quite sure.

Curiosity
stood, making sympathetic noises. "No need to carry on, Kitty. Let's just
get you to your room. He won't be satisfied with nothing but what you got to
give him."

Kitty
nodded. At the door, she turned back. Above the baby's wails she said: "I
understand that your concern is for the child, rather than for me. You think
Richard would only want me because of Ethan, and the land . " She paused,
and there was a fresh rush of color on her face. "Perhaps you are right
about that, but perhaps you are not. I should still like to hear what Richard
has to say."

"Of
course, by all means," aunt Merriweather said. "It might be quite
edifying."

Leaving
the room behind Kitty, Curiosity paused at the door to throw
Elizabeth
a sour grin.

"Well,
that was nicely done," said aunt Merriweather, sitting back with a
satisfied expression. "Dr. Todd will have a harder time of it, anyway. You
must be sure to keep her mind focused on the alternatives,
Elizabeth
, once he begins whispering in her
ear."

"Richard
is not the type to whisper in anyone's ear," Elizabeth said. "But I
shall try to be the voice of reason. And there is Curiosity."

Aunt
Merriweather seldom smiled very broadly, but a definite grin turned her face
into a sea of fine wrinkles. "She is a treasure, that woman. I suppose
there would be no chance of having her accompany Katherine—" In response
to Elizabeth's frown, she inclined her head in surrender. "Your father
does depend upon her. We mustn't take everything away from him."

Elizabeth
was
unwilling to bring up the subject of her father at the moment, in front of
Hannah. But something else was weighing on her. "Aunt, had you
thought—perhaps Richard does truly care for her."

"Hmmmpf."
A gnarled hand waved away that possibility, diamonds flashing yellow and blue
in the afternoon sunlight. "He hadn't thought of her for months, I'm sure.
He's been overly occupied with the daughter of the lieutenant—governor—what was
her name, Amanda?"

"Giselle."

"Very
French," Aunt said, in the same tone she might have said
cannibal.

"Her
mother was Parisian, I believe," Amanda said. "But I observed Richard
with Miss Somerville, and I don't think it was anything more than a flirtation.
I doubt a marriage will come of it."

"I
disagree," said Aunt, pressing her mouth into a thin line. "It would
suit me very well if he should marry her. I do not like the idea of him snowed
in here with Katherine for the entire winter."

"Usually
we don't get snowed in for more than a few weeks at a time," suggested
Hannah helpfully.

Aunt
Merriweather's gaze turned toward her. "You have had a very instructive
tea, Miss Hannah. But you look doubtful. Tell me what you are thinking."

With
a small shrug, the girl put down her cake plate. "It wouldn't be
polite."

"Would
it not?" Aunt Merriweather raised one brow and tilted her head in Hannah's
direction: an invitation, or perhaps a summons to be less than polite.

After
only a short hesitation, Hannah said: "Hector and Blue went after the
Hauptmanns' cat once. Got her cornered and that was that."

Amanda
drew in a small sigh of dismay;
Elizabeth
did not know whether to laugh or cry. But Hannah's expression was serene, and
she returned aunt Merriweather's sharpest scrutiny without a hint of anxiety.
She wondered how Nathaniel could have ever doubted that this child was his:
even the tilt of her head spoke of him.

"How
old is this girl?" The question was directed to
Elizabeth
, but Hannah answered for herself.

"I'll
be ten this winter, ma'am.

Aunt
Merriweather stared, but Hannah never blinked. Suddenly the old woman's face
lost its stony cast, and one corner of her mouth curled reluctantly upward.

"I
understand you have a talent for medicine," she said. Did you try to save
the cat?"

"There
wasn't anything to save once they got done with her, but I've got her skeleton.
My father helped me wire it together. Do you want to see it?"

"Thank
you most kindly for that generous offer," said aunt Merriweather. "Perhaps
another time."

* * *

After
another hour in her aunt's company, Elizabeth set off for home with Hannah. She
wanted the exercise and the fresh air; she needed the time to organize her
thoughts, and so she refused the company of Galileo which Aunt pressed on her
so urgently.

They
had just turned the path into the woods that took them out of view of the house
when Amanda showed herself behind a pine tree, gesturing at them with frantic
small motions of her pale hands.

"What
is it?" Elizabeth asked, concerned. "Are you unwell? Shall we walk
with you back to the house?"

Without
a word, Amanda took her arm and pulled her off the path, through the jumble of
foliage in reds and yellows and browns which crackled loudly underfoot. A
grouse ruffled up indignantly from a meal of birch leaves and scurried off.

"Amanda,
what is it?"

"There
is nothing amiss with me, but I must have a word with you, and tomorrow there
will be no time or opportunity."

"Hannah,"
said Elizabeth. "Could you please go on ahead? I will catch up with
you."

"Can
I call on Dolly?"

"Yes,
I will come by and get you there. But I won't be long."

When
the girl had disappeared down the path,
Elizabeth
turned to her cousin.

Amanda
could barely meet her eye. "I have something I must confess to you. While
we were in
Montreal
,
Dr. Todd gave me a message for Kitty."

"For
heaven's sake, Amanda. Why did you not say so?"

Amanda
pressed her hands together in front of her face and closed her eyes. "Mother
forbade me to tell anyone, especially Kitty."

What
Elizabeth
wanted to do,
if only she could, was to walk away from this information; she wanted to forget
the harried and unhappy look on Amanda's face; she wanted never to hear Richard
Todd's name again.

"I
don't know, Amanda—”

“Oh,
please, cousin. Please, I have no one else to turn to."

Elizabeth
took a deep breath, and pushed it out again. "Go on, then."

In a
rush, Amanda recited: "He said to tell Kitty that he would be back in
Paradise
before first snow, and that she should make her
wedding clothes ready."

"I
see." Elizabeth pressed a finger to the small ache that was blossoming
between her brows. "And the young woman, Giselle?"

"I
believe it was just a flirtation, although Mother does not. My mother does mean
well,
Elizabeth
.
She wants what is best for Kitty and the child."

"Yes,"
Elizabeth murmured. "I see that." A late oak leaf floated down to
rest on the great drift of birch foliage, like a dull brown pebble on a beach
of jewels. Overhead a kinglet called with a thin, high
seet—seet—seet
.

"Will
you tell Kitty?"

"I
think not, not right away. When he gave you that message Richard could not have
known that Kitty would marry Julian. Perhaps he will see things differently
when he arrives here, and it would be cruel to make Kitty hope."

"But
I think he truly cares for her," Amanda said. "I believed his concern
was real."

"Then
why did he not send word all these long months?" Elizabeth shook her head.
"He may be concerned for her welfare, but if he truly intends to marry her
I fear it has more to do with other matters. Perhaps he is still under the
impression that he needs her testimony against me. What a terrible muddle this
is."

"It
is most wickedly selfish of me, but I do so want Kitty to come to
England
with
Ethan. It seems to me that it might be the right thing for them. If not for
your father." Amanda averted her face as she said this, pale now, with so
much of her earlier prettiness subdued.

"Amanda,
you and I have had no time at all together in this brief visit. I wanted to
talk to you, to know how you are. Do you—" She hesitated, looking for the
right words. "Do you still have difficulty sleeping?"

"Do
you mean, does the Green Man still come to me? I think I have finally outgrown
him, Elizabeth. Or perhaps he has found someone else more to his liking. There
is no lack of Green Men here, I think, if one wanted to seek me out."
 

Joe's
face came to Elizabeth: and the hot, dry light in his eye when he realized that
night was falling. The fierce determination to protect himself, fear of one
kind of death when another sat breathing heavily on his chest.

"Here
they are called stone men,"
Elizabeth
said, and then, a little breathlessly: "Have you seen them?"

Amanda
turned her face up to the canopy of naked branches, bony fingers against the
sky. "I have seen men in the forest, but they were all human enough. They
smelled very human, at least." She managed a smile. "No Elizabeth. I
have no need to look for new ghosts."

Her
eyes lowered to
Elizabeth
's
waist and when she looked up again there was the soft glittering of unshed
tears in her eyes. Amanda, pretty, quietly dependable, with a titled husband
and more land and money than she needed or cared about, was without the
children which had been her only ambition. And unless she opened up the
subject, Elizabeth could not talk to her of that single, most important fact in
her life.

"I
must go," Amanda said hoarsely. "Mother will be looking for me."
And she squared her thin shoulders and turned back to the house, pulling her
cape around her.

* * *

At
Lake in the Clouds they found Baldwin O'Brien firmly settled into the best
chair by the hearth. The high color in his cheeks and nose might have been due
to the cold, but Elizabeth suspected a very different origin from the halo of
scent that surrounded him and made Hannah's nose wrinkle. He had been
interrogating Liam—that much was clear from the stony look on the boy's
face—and he squinted up at this interruption as if Elizabeth were the
interloper.

"Why
are you alone, Liam?" she asked.

"I
sent the Mohawk squaws away," O'Brien said. "Didn't want them
here."

Hannah
quickly situated herself next to Liam, and scowled at O'Brien.

"That
is most abominably rude of you," Elizabeth said. "Who are you to
direct people in and out of my home? I must ask you to leave, and
immediately."

Liam
blinked at her thankfully, his mouth pressed hard together.

O'Brien
scratched at his dusty beard and got up slowly. "I'm an agent of the state
treasury," he said. "Got inquiries to make."

"Your
role as an official of the government does not give you leave to harass us, or
to trespass. If you had a passing acquaintance with your constitution and bill
of rights you would know that."