“Then it appears either you are the liar, or you had a new experience yourself late last summer. Now, the evening wears on and I have work to do tomorrow. You will have to excuse me.” She swept out of the chamber, leaving him far from satisfied with what he had learned.
He followed her. “Do you have an image of her? A miniature, for example?”
“I do not. Nor would any image do her justice. She is very beautiful, however. I can see why you might have lost your head on seeing her.” She began mounting the stairs. “It doesn’t excuse you, of course, but it is understandable.”
The stairway’s shadows swallowed her. He watched until her footsteps disappeared when a door closed.
She had tried and convicted him on her sister’s testimony. Nor could he swear he was innocent.
There was some humor in being taken to task for a pleasure he did not even remember. It was the kind of devilish development that made the angels laugh. Less humorous was the way this revelation interfered with knowing Caroline better. He stood by the stairs, imagining her in her chamber. Nefarious scoundrel that he was, he pictured her removing her dress and stays and finally her hose and chemise, revealing layer by layer the body he had surmised while she wore pantaloons. The mental pictures made him hard and half-convinced him to go up to her, stupid mistake though that would clearly be.
He went in search of some spirits in the library, thinking that if he was guilty of sinning with Amelia, he had definitely seduced the wrong Dunham sister.
* * *
“He claims to have no memory of it.” Caroline spoke after eating her breakfast. Mrs. Hoover stood at the hearth, starting the day’s dinner. With no one hunting, the good woman had sacrificed one of her chickens to the pot today.
“Not something she would get wrong, it seems to me,” Mrs. Hoover said. “A woman remembers the first time at least.”
Caroline thought anyone would remember every time. Except a rake. She imagined all those names and faces melted quickly from such a man’s memory. Lord Thornhill’s claims to the contrary did not hold much credence with her.
“He may refuse,” Mrs. Hoover said. “What then?”
“I don’t know. I’m counting on him accepting responsibility when facing the truth of it here, where he can’t avoid Amelia. Perhaps I am too optimistic.” If she was, this entire plan could end very badly for all of them. The logic of it had seemed unassailable when she started down the path, but the pitfalls seemed to grow with each day. Increasingly Lord Thornhill’s assessment that she was half-mad to even attempt this looked correct.
“He seems a gentleman, for all his sins. A bit weak when it comes to women, is all. That is common enough. I’d not give up hope yet.”
“How is Tom faring?” Caroline wanted to change the topic. She had spent much of the night debating the character of Lord Thornhill and Amelia’s fate.
“He’s saying he can get up and help you, but I told him he must rest that leg another few days.”
“I said a week. I want him well healed, not having it give him trouble for years on end. Don’t let him leave the cottage. If matters become dire about the food, I will go hunt.” She knew how. She just disliked it enough that she avoided it if she could.
“I’ll keep close watch.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “This will just cook away like yesterday’s stew. It will be ready when you want dinner. Until then there is cheese and fresh bread and eggs if you want them. You can cook that much.”
Caroline’s lack of cooking skills had achieved infamy in the house. “Yes, I can do eggs.”
“I’ll leave the porridge warming here on the hearthstone for His Lordship. I cooked some salt pork, too, so he keeps up his strength.”
“He will find it, I am sure. I need to go out soon. It became very cold last night and I have to check the pond to make sure it didn’t ice over.”
Mrs. Hoover swung her cape around her shoulders and picked up a pail with some of the porridge and pork. “You be careful. Don’t forget how Tom says to do it if you need to break the ice.”
“Don’t tell him I might be doing it. He’ll only worry.”
With a nod, Mrs. Hoover left.
Amelia returned to her chamber and changed into the pantaloons and shirt. She pulled on half boots, wishing she had nice high ones like men wore. The snow would come over the tops of these, and her feet would be wet soon.
She grabbed her coat off the peg below and let herself outside. The feeding could wait for afternoon. Right now she just wanted to make sure the horses had water. They could eat snow, but it wasn’t the same.
She saddled a horse and rode across the pasture to the hill. She crested it and looked down. The pond of several acres lay at the base on the other side, fed in part by drainage and also a small spring.
As soon as she saw the pond she knew she would be there for a while. Despite the overcast sky, light sparkled on its gray surface. She rode closer to confirm that it had indeed iced up.
She dismounted and took down the pick that she had tied to her saddle. She approached the edge, set her legs apart for balance, then swung the pick and brought it down on the ice with all her strength.
The metal bounced off the surface. The ice did not even show cracks.
