'I slept badly,' I excused myself with a minor lie, not caring to confess that my inattentiveness had been caused by thoughts of a certain dark-haired neighbor. I took a firmer hold on my knife and went on cutting vegetables for the soup that Rachel was simmering on the hearth.
'It is uncommonly warm,' Rachel said, in my defense. ' 'Twould make anyone sluggish.' She stood up, away from the fire, her face flushed and moist, and cast a sly sidelong glance at Caroline. 'I even saw you nodding at your prayers this morning, sister.'
'I do not nod at prayer,' Caroline responded primly, but her eyes twinkled merrily, and she looked almost young as she returned Rachel's teasing. 'I was only being devout.'
Rachel would have made comment on that, but before she could speak the words, the kitchen door opened and my uncle came into the room. In an instant the life disappeared from Caroline's eyes, as though some unseen hand had passed across her face. My uncle did not notice the transformation. He was red-faced and uncomfortable from the heat, and his expression was sour.
'This is the hottest day I have ever known,' he complained, wiping the beads of perspiration from his chin. 'It is the heat of the devil himself. Mariana, fetch me a drink of water, girl, and make haste with it.'
I complied without saying a word, handing the cup to him and returning to my work. He drank the water as an animal drinks, with a great noise, and set the cup down again on the table with satisfaction. His hard, gleaming eyes turned toward me.
'You look tired, Mariana.'
Caroline stirred in her corner by the hearth. 'She slept ill, Jabez. 'Tis no great concern.'
His eyes narrowed. 'She wants exercise. A walk in the open air will cure her ills.' He addressed me in a tone that was almost kind. 'When your work here is finished,' he told me, 'you may spend the rest of the morning out-of-doors. Walk down by the river, it will be cooler there.'
I tried to hide my surprise at his words. It seemed such an odd and unlikely turnabout, for this man who had rarely permitted me out of his sight to suggest that I spend time away from the house, that I could scarce believe it. Even Caroline raised her eyebrows, though she wisely said nothing.
Uncle Jabez turned to Rachel. 'There will be guests for the midday meal,' he informed her. 'Four others besides myself. For the meal I want a pigeon pie, with no fewer than two birds for each person, and a jug of the good cider from the cellar. Mariana can fetch the birds for you, before she leaves.'
I made a small sound of protest, my eyes stricken, and Rachel looked up from her kettle of soup. 'I will get the birds,' she told him. 'Mariana is too softhearted. She does not like to wring their necks.'
My uncle shrugged. 'I do not care who kills the wretched things, so long as they are on my table at dinner.' He flicked a glance at his wife. 'I trust you will tend to the child,' he said, 'and keep it silent. I do not wish a squalling brat to ruin the appetite of my guests.'
Caroline murmured something in reply, her head lowered submissively. I knew his unkind comment had wounded her deeply. Rachel had told me of her sister's yearning to conceive a child, her years of barren unhappiness, and her joy when she had finally given birth to John. That Jabez did not share her pride in the child was a constant source of pain to her.
'Johnnie is a fine child,' I heard myself saying. 'I doubt that he would disturb anyone.'
My uncle rested his cold blue eyes on my face once more. 'You may go whenever you are ready,' he told me, his voice even. 'And see that you promenade yourself well. I do not wish to see you back here before midafternoon.'
He turned abruptly and left the room, with Caroline trailing like a pale shadow in his wake. Rachel looked at me with wondering eyes, and chided me softly. 'You should not have spoken to him so. It is of no use to speak on my sister's behalf, Mariana. She goes like a lamb to the slaughter.'
'I know,' I said. 'But I could not stop the words from coming.'
'Well'—Rachel crossed the room to stand by the table— ' 'tis no great harm done. And you will have an entire morning to cool your temper, from the sound of it. That ought to be a pleasant prospect for you.'
I was pleased by the thought of a few hours out-of-doors, but my pleasure was tempered by irritation. My uncle did not want me to be in the house when his visitors arrived, that much was plain, and I was hard-pressed to contain my curiosity.
'Rachel,' I asked casually, 'who are the guests my uncle spoke of? Do you know them?'
I had learned that Rachel could not lie easily. When she was unable to give a truthful answer, she would seek to deflect the question. She sought to deflect mine now, lowering her head so that the fall of bright hair hid her face from me. She chose her words slowly, and with care.
'It is sometimes better,' she advised me, 'to cover your eyes and stop up your ears, instead of asking questions.'
I knew she would say no more about the matter, so I let the subject drop, taking my bowlful of vegetables over to the hearth and emptying it into the boiling pot.
'Shall I go now?' I asked, rubbing my damp hands on my skirt.
'Unless you want to fetch the pigeons from the dovecote,' Rachel said, then laughed at my expression. 'Be off with you,' she ordered, in a brave imitation of my uncle, 'and see that you promenade yourself well.'
I was only too happy to comply. The sky was wide and inviting, and the grass was cool and sweetly refreshing under my bare feet as I walked across the undulating field toward the river. It was a short walk, only a mile or so, but did not hurry it, letting my soul soak up the glorious sensation of freedom and lightness.