“Hmm?” the old woman asked distractedly, nibbling on a sugared date. “What prediction?”
“Did you not tell him he would die?”
Winnie paused, brow furrowing. “What do you mean, die? We shall all die one day, Sophie.”
“I know, but... did you not tell Stephen you didn’t think he would return home this time?”
She frowned. “I don’t recall saying that.”
“Don’t recall? Something about he wouldn’t live to see his thirtieth year?”
The woman shook her silvery-white head. “Good heavens. What a tragedy. For you, for me, for the entire family. Except for Wesley, perhaps.”
“What?” Sophie asked, flummoxed.
Winnie’s face puckered in confusion. “I’m sorry, my dear. I don’t recall saying he would die. He must be mistaken.”
The woman rose in agitation and stepped to her window. “Have you seen my new hatchlings?”
Sophie ignored the question. “But... Winnie. Don’t you... hear voices and predict things? Stephen told me he’s never known you to be wrong.”
“Dear boy. How kind of him.” She picked up a bread roll and opened the latch. “Yes, I hear things, but I am no prophet, however biased the dear boy might be. I have been wrong once or twice. What a gentle memory he has.” She crumbled the roll and sprinkled the crumbs on the ledge.
Then she closed the window and turned back, eyes alight. “Oh! Now I think on it, I may have said he wouldn’t live to see his inheritance....”
“Inheritance?” Sophie asked. “But he’s a second son.”
“Yes, but he has an inheritance from his grandfather, held in trust until his thirtieth birthday.” Winnie inhaled and drew herself up. “And that’s more than a year from now.”
Sophie felt befuddled. Did it not amount to the same thing? Or had Winnie changed her story for some reason? Perhaps Stephenhadmisunderstood her. Or were Mrs. Overtree and Miss Blake right and the old nurse was off in her attic?
Miss Whitney went on, “Of course my memory isn’t anything to boast about these days.” She tapped her temple. “I remember things I did twenty years ago better than I recall what I ate for supper last night. Don’t get old, Sophie. Not if you can help it.”
“I don’t think I like the alternative.”
“True. We all must die. It’s only a question of when, how, and where we’re going afterwards.” Winnie sighed. “I pray I shall not end in the poorhouse or a pauper’s grave yet.”
Sophie forced herself to reassure her yet again, even though she was irritated with the woman and confused in the bargain. “I am sure Captain Overtree won’t let that happen.”
Winnie shook her head. “But he is off to fight the French soon. He cannot control everything. Only God can do that.”
“The French? But Napoleon has been exiled. The war is over.”
“No, my dear. I don’t believe it is. I hear Napoleon has raised his bold head again like a serpent refusing to lay low.”
“How would you hear that? Did a voice tell you that?”
“Oh yes,” the old nurse said, eyes strangely distant. “I hear voices almost every day.”
Not sure what to think, Sophie started down the stairs, determined to find Stephen. She stopped first in their bedchamber, saw the dressing room had been disturbed but was otherwise empty, and then continued downstairs. In the hall, she was stunned to see Captain Overtree in full uniform, hat under his arm and bag in hand. Her heart lurched.No!They were supposed to have more time.
She hurried forward.
At the sound of her footsteps, he turned. “Sophie, thank heaven. I couldn’t find you.”
“I was upstairs with Winnie. What is going on? Tell me you’re not leaving already.”
“I’m afraid so. Napoleon has escaped exile and is back in France. Two others from my regiment are here. We are traveling together. I have to go.”
