A Mischief in the Snow Read Online Free Page A

with your mother. A decent woman, I supposed, and brave enough to say a kind word when others feared me—probably for good reason! Is she dead? I thought so. Those I knew are all gone, or very nearly. You were an unusual child… obedient, with fair braids, and eyes bluer than the North Sea. And now?”
    Charlotte reached up to push her loose hair away from her face, wishing she'd not lost her cap in the marsh below. The woman before her did not seem to notice.
    “But I hear you've managed to lose a husband,” Mrs. Knowles continued. “As have I… as have I. Quite recently, too. You're puzzled by that, I suppose. Good! Come and sit by the fire, in Magdalene's chair. She will bring another pot of tea. And a cake from the storeroom,” the old lady ordered.
    Charlotte watched as Magdalene finished adding a pair of logs to the fire and moved off without a word. Then, for several minutes, while her outer garments began to drip in earnest, Charlotte found herself answering more questions concerning her family. At Magdalene's return she was directed by her hostess to take up a cup of tea and a lap robe, and go into an adjoining room to await a change of clothing. She went at once, while old Mrs. Knowles whispered a new set of instructions, sending Magdalene off in a different direction.

Chapter 3

    T HE SMALL ROOM appeared to serve as a poor sort of kitchen. No doubt it was more convenient than the one Charlotte guessed lay beneath the rest of the house. Over a fire simmered soup in an iron kettle. This she swung out of the way to add sticks from a nearby bin, feeling a twinge of conscience for the liberty she took. She removed her cloak and boots, stripped off her skirts and all the rest, and wrapped herself in the lap robe she'd been given. Everything else she put onto a rack standing to one side, which already supported a woman's cloak.
    Later, while noting that her hair had nearly dried, she saw Magdalene come in with an armful of surprisingly fine garments. Careful hands helped her to put them on. At last, both reentered the larger room. Moving slowly in a trained gown of heavy green silk, Charlotte imagined she might have gained the approval of a duchess. The long silk gloves she'd been given were welcome for their warmth, but she hardly knew what to make of their many buttons, every one a pearl. Walking toward the fire with arustling sound, she wobbled in shoes that held her heels three inches from the floor.
    Over the mantel hung a gold-framed mirror, its silver backing speckled with dark spots that proved its age, the rest tinted to reflect a rosy world. In it, Charlotte saw enough to ensure her embarrassment. Mrs. Knowles, however, seemed satisfied, and bid her guest come close so she might touch the smooth fabric of the gown.
    “What a pleasure it is to enjoy something bright!” she said decidedly. “For color, at least, I
can
see. Magdalene wears dull things, as she is determined to save her best robes—though of course no one ever gave her many. But I think you're less than sure of your feet, madam. Have you perhaps found a forgotten bottle of wine? In my time, that robe did not drag so in the front. Today it would be a different story—it is why I have abandoned my own finery, of which this is a small part. The longer the life God grants you, Mrs. Willett, the shorter you, too, will become. Despite the high source, I do not find the joke amusing. But my mind has not withered, I assure you! A good thing, too. Growing old graciously demands strength of will, a quality I suspect you yourself enjoy. Without such a thing, you might well have perished this very afternoon.”
    Charlotte felt a new discomfort, as she realized the old woman had guessed at her swim. She explained the reason she'd arrived in such a disheveled state.
    “Well done!” cried Catherine Knowles, wringing her hands once she'd heard the exciting story to its end. “We've heard from young Godwin that you are a woman who makes a habit of