Miss Whittier Makes a List (47 page)

Lady Spark made a face.
“
You are so domestic already! Next you will tell me that the chickens are off their laying.
”

Hannah chuckled as she buttered the muffin.
“
Well, they are, my dear. I wish I could remember Mama
’
s receipt for difficult poultry. Or did she just chop off their heads and fricassee them?
”

She waved Lady Spark off that afternoon in a post chaise, with promises to write as soon as Daniel returned with a writ of chancery and a special license.
“
My dear, I will pick out the silk for your wedding dress. I will have Madame
LeTournier
copy the pattern of your blue walking dress. That is so simple it will be done in a day. Just name the day,
”
was Lady Spark
’
s final command as Hannah was closing the door. With merry eyes she blew her a kiss.

The household inventory was complete in two days, as well as a list of new wall coverings and paint.
“
We
’
ve been needing a change, Miss Whittier,
”
Mrs. Paige said as she organized the lists in the bookroom that night and extingshed the lamp.
“
Tomorrow, Mr. Paige and I will go into the village and see about the paint.
”

“
Thee doesn
’
t think it will be too severe?
”
she asked.
“
It is what I am used to.
”

Mrs. Paige flashed one of her rare smiles.
“
I do not see how any home with you in it could ever be too severe.
”

The house was hers the next afternoon when t
he Paiges left with their lists,
so she let herself into Daniel
’
s room for a look around. It was shabby and comfortable, smelling vaguely of tar. She traced the unmist
ak
able odor to a ta
r
ry bag still filled with shot that he had dumped into a
corner
after one voyage or another and forgotten. She picked it up between thumb and forefinger and carried it into the hall, stopping to sniff it once and remember those desperate days and nights after the fight with the
Bergeron.

It seems so long ago, she thought as she returned to survey the room where she would be waking up for all the mornings of her life to come. There was a telescope on a stand, conveniently positioned by an armchair next to the window. She sat down, opened the window, and trained the glass out.
“
Sail ho,
”
she whispered, thinking again of those wonderful watches in the lookout of the
Dissuade,
sitting trousered and barefooted, the summer wind ruffling her head. There was nothing on the ocean now, and far in the distance, only a carriage. She closed the window again, shivering in the late September breeze.
“
I hope thee has another boat cloak, my dear,
”
she said, rubbing the goose-bumps on her arms.

White walls would be the thing in here, she thought, and perhaps muslin curtains with just a touch of blue, light as Daniel
’
s eyes. He would probably object if she recovered the chair by the window; it could wait for a time when he was about to return from a voyage and would be more interested in bed than his chair. And I can sit there and watch for him.

The
mattress was firm
, with no give to i
t
.
We ma
y have to discuss this mattress,
she thought as she tried to bounce on the bed. She remembered Mama
’
s generous mattress and how good it felt to crawl in bed with her and Papa when it was sto
rm
ing, or her childish dreams proved too vivid. Mama would plunk her between the two of them and they would go back to sleep
,
arms
around each other and her safely tucked in the middle.
“
We will need a softer mattress, Daniel,
”
she said as she straightened the bedcovers that were already stretched taut as new rope. Mama could send her quilts from home, and rag rugs. It would be as close as she could get to
Nantucket
.

She was sitting on the second floor landing by the stairs, dusting between the railings, when she heard the crunch of gravel in the front drive. She frowned. The Paiges must have forgotten their list, she thought as she returned to her work, humming to herself. The front door opened and she peered down the steps.

It was Captain Spark. She set down the dust cloth and brushed her hair back from her face, her hea
rt
lively with greeting. Her first instinct was to leap to her feet and hurl herself down the stairs and into his
a
r
m
s, but she sat where she was, relishing the rare opportunity to observe him unawares.

As she watched, the smile left her face. She folded her hands in her lap as he took off his tall hat, sighed audibly as he ran his fingers through his curly hair, and set the hat on the hall table. He picked up the mail on the silver tray, but his eyes did not seem to be seeing any of it. She leaned closer for a better glimpse of his face and held her breath at the way his mou
th turned down and his whole body
seemed to droop as though his cloak were too heavy for his shoulders.

He just stood there, staring at the mail, making no move to look about for her, or call her name. It was as though he did not expect to find her there. My dear, I would never leave you, she thought. She almost called to him, but there was something different about him that stopped the loving words in her throat. She could never have expressed her concern in words; it was more a feeling that something was terribly wrong.

She held her breath and waited for him to call her name. In another moment he had slung off the boat cloak to join the hat on the table, then carried the mai
l down the hall to the bookroom,
where he closed the door behind him. A door seemed to slam in her hea
rt
, and she did not know why. She got to her feet and hurried down the stairs.

He must have heard her on the stairs, because the bookroom door opened and he stood there. His eyes brightened when he saw h
er, but he did not raise his arms
to welcome her into them. She stood before him then put her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her in a fierce embrace. His
arms
went around her then, and he returned her kiss as though he could not help himself. Her fingers were in his hair then, tugging at it as he kissed her until she was breathless.

“
Welcome home,
”
she said when she could speak. She released her grip on his hair, looked into his eyes, and still did not care for what she saw there. If he was her mirror, there was no reflection this time.

“
I didn
’
t know if you would be here, not after that dreadful way I left,
”
he said.

“
Thee cannot be serious, my love,
”
she chided.
“
I will never leave thee.
”

He sighed again, left her embrace, and leaned against the door frame.
“
It wasn
’
t nice of me.
”

“
No,
”
she agreed,
“
but I am made of sterner stuff.
”
She touched his stomach playfully and blushed when he pulled away from her teasing fingers, as though she were taking liberties not hers.
“
Thee knows that about me already.
”

“
So you are made of sterner stuff? Hold that though
t
my dear,
”
he said enigmatically. He inclined his head toward the front entrance.
“
I think I hear the Paiges. I passed them on the way home.
”
Hannah held her breath, dreading that sound of relief in his voice, as though he did not wish to be one more minute alone with her.
“
T
hey went into town to buy some paint, Daniel.
”
She tried to smile, but it was a failed attempt.
“
I
 
... I
 
... have ordered some paint for the bre
ak
fast room, parlor, and your room.
”

“
Did you? Hannah ...”
he began, and then shook his head. He was silent, as if waiting for the Paiges to hurry inside and spare him the pain of conersation with her.

“
It can keep,
”
she said softly.
“
Thee must be tir
ed.
”

“
I am,
”
he said.
“
More than you know.
”

The Paiges came into the front hallway then, full of greetings and questions about his new commerce raider. Then Daniel and Mr. Paige were deep in discussion about the estate, and the harvest, and anything that would keep him away from her, Hannah thought as she stood in the hallway and heard her
heart
breaking.

Dinner was a dreadful affair, full of jovial conversation with the Paiges, whom he had invited to dine with them.
“
For propriety
’
s sake,
”
he assured her,
“
now that my mother has beat a retreat back to the fleshpots of
London
.
”
But it was more than that, and she knew it, as he laughed and shared stories of the
Clarion,
and spoke of the coming winter on the blockade as though he looked forward to it
.
Mr. Paige delved deep into the conversation, but Mrs. Paige gradually dropped out,
her eyes turn
ing more and more to Hannah, a question in them.

We must talk, she thought as she pushed Mrs. Paige
’
s delicious dinner around her plate without the energy to see it to her lips. Please, Mrs. Paige, get your husband out of here.