Elizabeth shook her head.

"Settled it at dinner last night."

She barely knew what to say. She had been truly afraid that her father would not honor his promise, that she would never get her school; but it seemed her father had arranged for its construction after all. A wave of reluctant appreciation overwhelmed her, along with the realization that she had Nathaniel to thank for this. Why he would want to be of help to her she could not imagine. There must be some other motivation, some good he saw in the idea of the school, to want to put himself in this position. She looked at him and tried to puzzle out what it was, but all she saw was Nathaniel's patient and somewhat amused look.

"I must say," she said with an uncertain smile."I didn't expect—I had no idea. It is very kind of you—"

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "It's got little to do with kindness and more to do with cash money. He's paying me."

Elizabeth glanced down. "I see."

"But money wouldn't be enough to make the job to my liking if it weren't for other considerations," Nathaniel added.

When it was clear that Elizabeth did not know how to respond to this, Nathaniel found himself smiling. The woman had a quick wit, there was no doubt about that, but she was not in the habit of flirting. He found that this pleased him. He watched Elizabeth struggling to formulate some overly polite response and he was taken by the urge to tease her.

"I'm surprised your father didn't tell you himself."

"I haven't seen him yet this morning, I wanted to be up and about," Elizabeth said.

"Ah," Nathaniel said softly. "Couldn't wait to see the village, then. Looking for likely candidates."

She rose to this bait neatly. "Just what do you mean, sir?" she asked sharply.

"I meant you are on the lookout for students. What did you think meant?" he asked, smiling even more broadly.

Elizabeth laid a hand on her hood to set it in place. Her hair had come loose and curls lay on her cheek; she brushed these back. Nathaniel resisted the urge to step up to her and pull them back out. He thought about doing it because he knew it would make her blush, and he found he was developing an appetite for her blushes. But he was patient, and she was not; he had the advantage, and he would use it. He admitted to himself that his father was right, he had plans for this woman.

"Have you made the acquaintance of the parson yet?" he asked in a kinder tone, not pushing for an answer to his previous question. "He's got a daughter, she'd be the person to talk to about the list you wanted. Of the children.Kitty Witherspoon."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "That's very helpful." She looked about herself and saw they were hidden from both the lake and the settlement where they stood.

"I suppose I should be going, Mr. —" She paused. "If you are willing, we could speak this evening about the schoolhouse."

"Are you asking me to call on you this evening?"

Elizabeth fought with an angry retort, realizing that she must learn new rules of engagement here that were, at present, beyond her.

"It is Christmas Eve. I thought my father had invited all of his friends."

His gaze narrowed. "What makes you think I am a friend of your father's?"

"Whatever the quarrel between you and my father, it is Christmas Eve,” Elizabeth repeated. "And if he has not invited you, then I shall invite you. And your family." She steadied her expression and looked him straight in the eye. "You may not be his friend, but," She paused."You will be mine, will you not?"

Nathaniel returned her gaze without a smile. "That I will, Boots," he said. "For a start."

Chapter 5

Elizabeth arrived back at her father's home exhausted; the distance between the village and the house which had seemed so little in the sleigh had nearly undone her. She withdrew to her room after a brief conversation with her father, and although it was only mid—morning, she fell into a deep sleep without dreams.

Curiosity came to wake her in the mid—afternoon.

"I let you sleep through lunch but you must be half—starved by this time," she said, putting a tray on a small table by the bed. The aroma of chicken and gravy and potatoes rose from the covered dishes and made Elizabeth's stomach cramp with hunger. There were beans and relish and hot corn bread, as well. She thanked Curiosity and then fell to her food, noting out loud that the cold air and altitude were good for her appetite.

"It's running around the village in the snow," Curiosity pointed out. "But you've got your rest now. There's company waiting for you downstairs once you've had your fill."

Elizabeth looked up, startled.

"Calm yourself. Just Kitty Witherspoon, come to pay her respects. Your brother's entertaining her until you come down."

* * *

Katherine Witherspoon, she did not call herself Kitty to Elizabeth—waited in the sitting room on the edge of her chair. There was no sign of Julian, which was disappointing to Elizabeth: he was much better than she ever would be at the type of conversation required of such calls. But then, Elizabeth reminded herself, she had no idea how calls were made here.

Miss Witherspoon was a young woman in her early twenties, Elizabeth imagined. She was of medium height, quite mature in her form, with narrow face below waves of pale blond hair. Her eyes, a watery blue, were surrounded with a fringe of the same pale blond. The younger woman came up from her chair quickly to greet Elizabeth, her hand damp with nervousness. She was so enthusiastic and eager that she stumbled a little over a speech Elizabeth thought was surely rehearsed, in which Miss Witherspoon listed all the reasons she was so very pleased to have Elizabeth and her brother in the neighborhood.