Death and the Maiden by P. N. Elrod

Author:P. N. Elrod [Elrod, P. N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781941631331
Publisher: BenBella Books, Inc.
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I wandered back into the music room some while later. Lady Caroline had relinquished the spinet to Elizabeth and was now sitting next to Norwood, but nothing else had changed. I listened as she and Beldon played through a few songs they both liked, nodded genially at anyone glancing my way. After a time I quietly wandered out again.

The mood was a familiar one: I was too restless to sit, or read, or do much of anything. I hated this kind of waiting, of not knowing exactly when it would end. Months would likely pass before fresh news came from Oliver. Unless a delayed letter from him was already crossing the sea. Or even sitting in port just miles away.

It was very cold when I finally thought to go outside. I had no cloak or hat, but the chill would not affect me for a goodly time, despite the high wind. The noise of it bothered me more than the low temperature. It hissed and snarled through the bare tree branches and sent loose crystals of snow skittering over the drifts. I plunged my bare hands into a thick white pile and dug out the makings of a sizable snowball. Packing it down solidly, I smoothed it, rounded it, slapped more snow in where it lacked.

There was ice mixed in and it cut me. I regarded the stinging slice in my finger for a moment, vanished and returned. The cut was gone.

I liked that, and chuckled at the advantage my condition brought to the maintaining of my health. Then I hefted my snowball and threw it as high and as far as I could over the trees. Couldn’t tell where it landed. Couldn’t hear. The wind carried the sound away.

Elizabeth had been right to question whether I felt sorry for myself, but my pity was for our family in general, not just for me.

Well . . . maybe some of it was for me . . . but I wasn’t giving in to it, not for now.

I made more snowballs and threw them out into the pale winter night until my fingers grew stiff and blue, then went inside to thaw them by the library fire. Around me the house gradually settled down for the evening. The last bit of cleaning was being seen to in the kitchen, along with preparations for tomorrow’s cooking tasks. I heard Archimedes’s stately tread going up the stairs to inquire if Father wanted anything more before retiring. Jericho made a last round to see that the doors and windows were locked, then went up to my room to set out my things as usual. He and his father came down together, their voices soft in the liquid sound of some African tongue. Jericho understood his father’s language, but rarely spoke it where a white person might hear. He said it made them nervous.

The music had stopped and conversation ceased. Norwood escorted his sister to her room. Beldon saw to the other ladies, then came to the library.

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