A Mischief in the Snow
Page 27
“That's good to hear. I'll go and visit them tomorrow.”
“I'm sorry you missed our own excitement…”
During the time Richard was in Cambridge, Charlotte and the rest of the village had been roused one night by the meeting house bell, which rang out madly. At first it seemed there must be some mistake, for no one smelled smoke. A few supposed a superstitious neighbor had been unsettled by a magnificent display of the aurora borealis. This time, it sent down draperies of red and green from the northern sky.
And then, someone had pointed lower, to the marshes, where there was a yellow glow. It was soon agreed this must be the house on the island, consuming itself. What was not decided was whether the fire had been started by an earthly hand, or by one of the malevolent spirits still residing there.
When Charlotte finished telling Longfellow of the conflagration, he suggested that it might after all have been caused by old John Fisher, gnashing his teeth at the mess his daughter had left behind. Charlotte then asked if rot of another sort, perhaps logs left to molder, might not have heated itself to the point of combustion. This caused her neighbor to praise her astute application of Scientific law. And yet, neither knew, for sure….
What was known before long was that the house, and all of its curious furnishings, had been thoroughly destroyed. As its new owner would soon travel to Bermuda, it was assumed the island would be home to no one for a generation, at least. Until then, the boars could rest easy.
“But now,” said Longfellow, after he'd taken a last forkful of admirable cherry pie, “I wonder what you'll find to do with yourself, Carlotta.”
“I've wondered that myself. With Lem able to care for the dairy, I might try something new, I suppose.”
“Bees, perhaps?”
“Well…”
“You might consider taking up the violin; we'll need a new fiddler. But you might do better to build something useful on your brother's land, to surprise him when he visits. You'll allow me, I hope, to help you start. I've a willing pair of hands.”
“I know,” she answered, smiling. “But by planting time, what assurance do I have that you won't have them full with new plans of your own?”
“Who knows?” said Longfellow. He stretched his feet further across the fire, until they nearly touched those of his neighbor. Through the south windows, the maples already showed swollen red buds that came before the green. He imagined the new season full blown, and found himself pondering how long he'd need… to find a reason to join Charlotte in something that would take them on together, so that he might always have her at his side.
About the Author
MARGARET MILES, now the author of four Bracebridge mysteries, is working on another. She and her husband live in Washington, D.C.
To learn more about Bracebridge and some of the subjects in the books, please visit her website at:
www.margaretmiles.com
A MISCHIEF IN THE SNOW
PUBLISHING HISTORY
A Bantam Book/March 2001
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