"Of course, by all means," aunt Merriweather said. "It might be quite edifying."

Leaving the room behind Kitty, Curiosity paused at the door to throw Elizabeth a sour grin.

"Well, that was nicely done," said aunt Merriweather, sitting back with a satisfied expression. "Dr. Todd will have a harder time of it, anyway. You must be sure to keep her mind focused on the alternatives, Elizabeth, once he begins whispering in her ear."

"Richard is not the type to whisper in anyone's ear," Elizabeth said. "But I shall try to be the voice of reason. And there is Curiosity."

Aunt Merriweather seldom smiled very broadly, but a definite grin turned her face into a sea of fine wrinkles. "She is a treasure, that woman. I suppose there would be no chance of having her accompany Katherine—" In response to Elizabeth's frown, she inclined her head in surrender. "Your father does depend upon her. We mustn't take everything away from him."

Elizabeth was unwilling to bring up the subject of her father at the moment, in front of Hannah. But something else was weighing on her. "Aunt, had you thought—perhaps Richard does truly care for her."

"Hmmmpf." A gnarled hand waved away that possibility, diamonds flashing yellow and blue in the afternoon sunlight. "He hadn't thought of her for months, I'm sure. He's been overly occupied with the daughter of the lieutenant—governor—what was her name, Amanda?"

"Giselle."

"Very French," Aunt said, in the same tone she might have said cannibal.

"Her mother was Parisian, I believe," Amanda said. "But I observed Richard with Miss Somerville, and I don't think it was anything more than a flirtation. I doubt a marriage will come of it."

"I disagree," said Aunt, pressing her mouth into a thin line. "It would suit me very well if he should marry her. I do not like the idea of him snowed in here with Katherine for the entire winter."

"Usually we don't get snowed in for more than a few weeks at a time," suggested Hannah helpfully.

Aunt Merriweather's gaze turned toward her. "You have had a very instructive tea, Miss Hannah. But you look doubtful. Tell me what you are thinking."

With a small shrug, the girl put down her cake plate. "It wouldn't be polite."

"Would it not?" Aunt Merriweather raised one brow and tilted her head in Hannah's direction: an invitation, or perhaps a summons to be less than polite.

After only a short hesitation, Hannah said: "Hector and Blue went after the Hauptmanns' cat once. Got her cornered and that was that."

Amanda drew in a small sigh of dismay; Elizabeth did not know whether to laugh or cry. But Hannah's expression was serene, and she returned aunt Merriweather's sharpest scrutiny without a hint of anxiety. She wondered how Nathaniel could have ever doubted that this child was his: even the tilt of her head spoke of him.

"How old is this girl?" The question was directed to Elizabeth, but Hannah answered for herself.

"I'll be ten this winter, ma'am.

Aunt Merriweather stared, but Hannah never blinked. Suddenly the old woman's face lost its stony cast, and one corner of her mouth curled reluctantly upward.

"I understand you have a talent for medicine," she said. Did you try to save the cat?"

"There wasn't anything to save once they got done with her, but I've got her skeleton. My father helped me wire it together. Do you want to see it?"

"Thank you most kindly for that generous offer," said aunt Merriweather. "Perhaps another time."

* * *

After another hour in her aunt's company, Elizabeth set off for home with Hannah. She wanted the exercise and the fresh air; she needed the time to organize her thoughts, and so she refused the company of Galileo which Aunt pressed on her so urgently.

They had just turned the path into the woods that took them out of view of the house when Amanda showed herself behind a pine tree, gesturing at them with frantic small motions of her pale hands.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, concerned. "Are you unwell? Shall we walk with you back to the house?"

Without a word, Amanda took her arm and pulled her off the path, through the jumble of foliage in reds and yellows and browns which crackled loudly underfoot. A grouse ruffled up indignantly from a meal of birch leaves and scurried off.

"Amanda, what is it?"

"There is nothing amiss with me, but I must have a word with you, and tomorrow there will be no time or opportunity."

"Hannah," said Elizabeth. "Could you please go on ahead? I will catch up with you."

"Can I call on Dolly?"

"Yes, I will come by and get you there. But I won't be long."

When the girl had disappeared down the path, Elizabeth turned to her cousin.

Amanda could barely meet her eye. "I have something I must confess to you. While we were in Montreal, Dr. Todd gave me a message for Kitty."

"For heaven's sake, Amanda. Why did you not say so?"

Amanda pressed her hands together in front of her face and closed her eyes. "Mother forbade me to tell anyone, especially Kitty."

What Elizabeth wanted to do, if only she could, was to walk away from this information; she wanted to forget the harried and unhappy look on Amanda's face; she wanted never to hear Richard Todd's name again.

"I don't know, Amanda—”

“Oh, please, cousin. Please, I have no one else to turn to."