He corralled his thoughts to what he’d make for breakfast.Oatmeal with dried blueberries and honey and fresh milk from the cow would be easy to prepare. The food could sit for a while until everyone woke up. And coffee.He desperately needed a cup as black as his mood before he made the meal and went out to tend the animals. He pushed the coffee percolator, which he’d readied the night before, and the kettle with water to the middle of the stovetop.
As he cooked breakfast, he carefully planned out his day. He’d watch Ivy like a hawk stalking a mouse, gliding unseen through the sky but ready to dive and pounce at the first sign of movement. He wouldn’t be obvious, mostly looking from the corner of his eye, unless her attention was elsewhere, like when her head bent while she showed something to Jewel.
He’d suggest Ivy and Jewel work in the dining room where they’d have more space to spread out.And I can sit at the opposite end of the table and pretend to read a book.Better notbe to close to the pretty governess who’d already gotten under his skin.
He poured himself some coffee. In the cold room, it would cool soon enough to drink.
But as was said about warfare, no plan survives the encounter with the enemy, for he heard quick footsteps from Ivy’s room down the hall and the quiet opening and closing of the back door.She’s using the privy.
He picked up the kettle and poured hot water into the basin in the dry sink before returning to the stove to stir the oatmeal.
A few minutes later, the sounds in reverse heralded the governess. She stepped into the kitchen.
Torin hadn’t intended to, but as if pulled by puppet strings, his head turned to watch her entrance.
Ivy looked happy and rested, and as different from how he felt as could be. “Good morning,” she chirped, hurrying to wash and dry her hands.
He just grunted and continued stirring the oatmeal.
“The coffee smells so good. I can’t tell you how nice it is to not have to make coffee for myself and everyone else. I’m still on New York time, so for the next week or so, I’ll probably be rising early.”
He wanted to trust her. But Torin couldn’t help the bitter thought that she might just be trying to make a good impression, and the real woman would come out later, when he’d relaxed his guard. Silently, he poured coffee into an enamel mug and handed it to her.
She took it with a grateful smile. “Oh, this warms my hands. Looks to be another beautiful day. Cold, though.” She shivered and moved closer to the fire.
He immediately picked up two pieces of firewood, set aside the protective iron screen, and carefully placed them into thefireplace. The wood sparked and blazed. He slid back the screen and straightened.
“I don’t want you to burn extra fuel for my sake. I’m used to,” Ivy pressed her lips together as if thinking of something that bothered her, “a cold house.”
Torin frowned. “I keep the house warm for Jewel’s sake,” he said sharply. “Though I know that some believe the cold is invigorating and healthy.”
“Perhaps, in small doses,” she said wryly. “My father only allowed us a parsimonious amount of coal, which made my sister and me hardier, but often very uncomfortable.”
“Setting aside the natural limitations of not having a fireplace or stove in each room, this house will remain as comfortable as I can make it.” The urge to engage in conversation about his daughter, to give the governess a warning about the importance of keeping Jewel healthy, overrode his desire to avoid her. “How much did Cora write you about Jewel’s health?”
“Not very much. She wrote that Jewel is Mongoloid and expressed how the other Mongoloid children she saw in the orphanage were not as well taken care of. The implication being that Jewel’s papa sees to her welfare.” She smiled up at Torin, as if expecting him to like the compliment, and then seemed a little taken aback to see he didn’t return the smile.
“When she was born, the doctor told me that children like her live, on average, three year to five years—three being more likely.”
Ivy gasped and held a hand to her stomach. Her eyes glistened with tears, and she seemed to have to swallow a lump in her throat to speak. “I know children are vulnerable, but…” She took a shuddering breath. “You must live under the sword of Damocles.”
For the first time today, Torin looked fully at her, his gaze roving over her face, and he slightly relaxed his rigid stance. “Just so.”
“How do you bear it?”
With a shrug, he gave her an ironic smile. “Because I made the choice to.”
8
Ivy woke to birdsong and pale light framed by her open curtains, feeling a rush of anticipation. Through the window, she could see a slice of the lake glinting silver, the shore still clumped with the last stubborn patches of snow.
She dressed quickly, braided her hair into a practical coil, and donned her best coat, which she’d finally unpacked from her trunk and hung on a peg. Then she hurried outside to use the privy.
The frigid experience made her fervently miss indoor plumbing, and she wondered about tricks to making it better.Fire-heated bricks on the seat to warm it up?She certainly couldn’t mention such a thing to Torin. Maybe when she and Cora had some privacy to talk.In the middle of winter, which is worse? A stinky chamber pot inside or a privy outside?
But once in the kitchen, everything started to change. Torin looked as though he hadn't slept well. His dark hair, usually tied back with a leather thong, hung loose around his shoulders, and his blue eyes held a guarded, distant look. Her attempts to make conversation resulted in curt responses.
My employer seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed.Or, at least, that’s what she hoped his problem was and not anything to do with her.
