Not this time. Elizabeth whispered it aloud in the empty room: it was a promise, and a vow.

Chapter 61

By the end of October, Lake in the Clouds was adrift in snow; Elizabeth, healed enough to be bored but still unable to read or write for long periods, began to chafe at the narrow boundaries of the cabin; and Richard Todd had begun to court Kitty Middleton in earnest.

Nathaniel gave in gracefully on a clear afternoon and took her to the trading post. In the familiar cramped space filled with powerful smells of damp wool and burning tobacco and fermenting ale, Elizabeth heard the details of the courtship from Anna Hauptmann and Martha Southern as they measured great stacks of newly woven linen.

"Every day this week he's been up there in the parlor, driving Curiosity near out of her mind," Anna told her.

She'll take the broom to the doctor one of these days," predicted Martha.

"Has Kitty spoken to you about Richard?"

"Kitty ain't been down here since the first snow," said Anna. "The child's got an appetite, and she can't get far away."

The perfectly round and bald head of Martha's youngest popped up out of the feed box where she had settled him, as if he had been called. He smiled at Elizabeth, displaying two tiny teeth.

"It's Daisy who comes by these days, most oft. On her way to the smithy, don't you know." This was accompanied by the grin and wink Anna reserved for matters of courtship. "Kitty herself don't go out much, as I understand it. Except for the occasional sleigh ride." The generous mouth twitched at the corner as Anna struggled with the urge to say more.

"The judge don't care for those sleigh rides much," said Martha. "If the sour look on his face is any indication."

From nearer the hearth, Charlie LeBlanc spoke up. "I think you women are being unfair," he said. "Richard ain't doing nothing wrong. If she don't want his sleigh rides, she'll send him on his way."

Anna dropped a bolt of cloth with a soft thud. "Some men don't budge so easy as you, Charlie."

Jed McGarrity coughed loudly into his fist. "Aw, Anna. The boy's got a point. Maybe Kitty likes Richard coming around. Maybe she's lonely."

"It is high time we called on her, in that case," said Elizabeth.

* * *

Dutch Ton was waiting for them in front of the trading post, swaddled in bearskin and his unmistakable smells. The shy, dark—toothed smile he gave her from under the brim of his old tricorn could not make him smell any better, but Elizabeth swallowed hard and tried to smile back.

"It were a bad fall," he said, as if he were picking up a conversation which had been interrupted just a few minutes before. "You better now?"

"Much better, thank you."

With fingers the color of charcoal he began to search through the sparse beard thoughtfully. Then he touched the patch over his eye.

"He's better off dead. Old Lingo were mean."

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed.

"I come to bring your pretties," he said, shuffling one boot against the frozen ground. "Did you get 'em?"

"My wedding ring, yes." Elizabeth held up her hand. "And the hair clasp. Thank you very much."

"I come to tell you about a man, too," he said. "But I forget his name. He's looking for you all."

Nathaniel seemed to come suddenly awake. "Was it my father? Did he have a message for me?"

"No." Dutch Ton shook his head. "Funny—talking man from across the water, asking about Hawkeye. Met him when I come through Fish House. He hired a scout and went off to find Robbie, see if he knew where your pa might be."

Elizabeth would have put her hand on Dutch Ton's sleeve if she could have forced herself past the smell. As it was, she tried to smile kindly.

"What did this man say that he wanted with Hawkeye?"

The big trapper shrugged. A blank look stole over his face, to be replaced suddenly by a guileless smile. "The Earl of Carrick," he announced.

"Who?" Elizabeth asked, dumbfounded.

"That were his name. The Earl of Carrick. And he were lookin' for Dan'l Bonner, or for somebody called Jamie Scott."

With a satisfied nod, his errand finally completed, the big man pulled his hat down firmly over his brow and muttered a farewell. He turned and shuffled off, without further discussion.

"He cannot have understood correctly," Elizabeth said, mostly to herself. "What would a Scots earl be doing in the bush, looking for your father? And how does he come to know of the name you use in the Albany bank?"

Nathaniel rubbed a finger over the bridge of his nose. "God knows," he said, looking distinctly uneasy. "Maybe this earl is looking for the gold, too."

Elizabeth stared after Dutch Ton, and as if he felt the weight of her gaze, he turned from the edge of the wood and waved.

"I wonder if we'll see him again."

"Oh, I expect so," Nathaniel said. Then he tugged lightly on her arm. "Are you still of a mind to call on Kitty today?"

"I am," she said, shaking herself slightly. "Perhaps my father will know something of this earl."

The path up through the woods toward the judge's had been broken, but the snow was still wet and heavy. After minutes, Nathaniel stopped to peer down into her flushed face.

"We should have ridden. We'll borrow a horse to get you home."

"Don't fuss, Nathaniel. The exercise does me good."