She had soon won most of them over: Falling—Day's reservations seemed to give way quite quickly, and while Liam was openly jealous of the way Elizabeth's aunt could claim Hannah's attention, he himself went out of the way to present a good picture to the old lady, even asking for a comb on one occasion when she was expected. Only Many-Doves remained distant, and watchful, unmoved by the gifts that had been brought for her from Montreal, polite at all times but unwilling to be drawn in. It was Many-Doves who gave aunt Merriweather her Kahnyen’keháka name: She—Pulls—the—Winds—Behind—Her. Elizabeth smiled uneasily when she heard it, but she could not deny that it was appropriate.

Elizabeth left her aunt alone with Nathaniel for short periods of time, and thought perhaps that with enough exposure they might come to like each other. Of course, Elizabeth did not mention to him her aunt's proposed scheme for laying pipe to bring water into the cabin, or for improvements to the chimney. Nor did she tell him about the many suggestions for more, traditional furnishings, stout shoes, flannel undergarments, the addition of pork to their diet or brood hens to their livestock.

Most of the time she was alone with her aunt, and little by little she had the stories of her first year in the New World drawn out of her. Some things Elizabeth did keep back, quickly relearning the skill of deflecting curiosity when it strayed into dangerous areas. She did not, would never, tell her the whole story of Jack Lingo, for she believed she knew the limits of her aunt's open—mindedness. They spoke of England, too, and of uncle Merriweather's death. Then, on a cold afternoon with the newly harvested pumpkins and squashes piled around them like a galaxy of small glowing suns in the coming dusk, they spoke of Julian, and Elizabeth saw tears in her aunt's eyes, and found her own, then, finally.

On the day before they planned to begin the return trip to Albany, Elizabeth took Hannah with her to spend the day at her father's, leaving a disgruntled Liam behind in Falling—Day's care. It was to be one of Aunt's traditional teas: the men were banished, and the women could sit comfortably and talk openly.

They were a small group: Aunt Merriweather, Elizabeth, Amanda, Hannah, and Kitty freshly out of childbed. There were dark smudges under her eyes, and her hands shook slightly. Elizabeth had seen that expression before, when her cousin Jane's new daughter had been two weeks old. As if the infant's constant demands had caused Jane to forget the boundaries of her own body.

Elizabeth knew that Kitty's condition did not escape her aunt, but in a very uncharacteristic way she overlooked the slightly rumpled gown and unkempt hair. Aunt Merriweather had plans for this tea, and Kitty would not be excused until she was satisfied.

Curiosity filled the sideboard with scones and cakes and tea brewed according to directions, and then disappeared into the back of the house, where Elizabeth followed her to ask for her company at the table. She had been feeling vaguely worried about Curiosity all week, ill at ease about the way she had vanished suddenly into the guise of a household servant in the shadow of aunt Merriweather's expectations.

"She don't want nobody like me at her tea table," Curiosity said firmly, fixing her attention on the churn. "You go on now, and talk to them. Tomorrow they'll be gone and things will get back to normal around here." She scooped up another slab of pale butter beaded with water, slapped it onto the mound on the board before her, and began to work it mercilessly with her paddles.

"She means well, Curiosity."

"Yas'm, the lady is just a visitor and don't wish to cause no disruption in the household. I heard tell."

Elizabeth could not suppress her smile. "I'm very thankful to you for all the trouble you've taken under challenging circumstances. But please do come, Curiosity. I believe that she's planning to bring up the subject of Richard, and your word counts for very Much with Kitty."

The tension in the bony shoulders eased a little. "I don't do anything but show her the way. The same way I will do for you and for my own daughters, when the time come. with a little charity," she added, pointedly. She sent Elizabeth a sideways glance. "What's this about Richard Todd?"

Once Elizabeth had related aunt Merriweather's predictions about Richard's return to Paradise and a renewed interest not so much in Kitty, but in Julian's widow, Curiosity took off her apron, wrapped a fresh bandanna around her head and joined them. There was some irony in the fact that it took Richard to unite Curiosity and Augusta Merriweather in a common cause, which Elizabeth appreciated but could not mention to either of them.

"But I don't understand," Kitty said when the subject had finally been broached. She had been concentrating on the child in her lap, and her gaze shifted only reluctantly to the women seated around the table, all with their attention on her.

"Kitty," said Curiosity, rattling the spoon against her saucer to get her attention. "There's a simple question here, child. What are you going to say to the man when he shows up and starts talking marriage again?"

Elizabeth might have laughed at aunt Merriweather's expression, divided evenly between reluctant admiration and horror at such an uncloaked presentation of the facts. She might have laughed, if it were not for the puzzled and distinctly defiant crease between Kitty's brows.

"I cannot imagine that he should," Kitty said. "I am a widow, now, after all."

"Men rarely forget about money and connections," aunt Merriweather said. "It is one of their more dependable appetites."