Elizabeth took a deep breath, and pushed it out again. "Go on, then."

In a rush, Amanda recited: "He said to tell Kitty that he would be back in Paradise before first snow, and that she should make her wedding clothes ready."

"I see." Elizabeth pressed a finger to the small ache that was blossoming between her brows. "And the young woman, Giselle?"

"I believe it was just a flirtation, although Mother does not. My mother does mean well, Elizabeth. She wants what is best for Kitty and the child."

"Yes," Elizabeth murmured. "I see that." A late oak leaf floated down to rest on the great drift of birch foliage, like a dull brown pebble on a beach of jewels. Overhead a kinglet called with a thin, high seet—seet—seet.

"Will you tell Kitty?"

"I think not, not right away. When he gave you that message Richard could not have known that Kitty would marry Julian. Perhaps he will see things differently when he arrives here, and it would be cruel to make Kitty hope."

"But I think he truly cares for her," Amanda said. "I believed his concern was real."

"Then why did he not send word all these long months?" Elizabeth shook her head. "He may be concerned for her welfare, but if he truly intends to marry her I fear it has more to do with other matters. Perhaps he is still under the impression that he needs her testimony against me. What a terrible muddle this is."

"It is most wickedly selfish of me, but I do so want Kitty to come to England with Ethan. It seems to me that it might be the right thing for them. If not for your father." Amanda averted her face as she said this, pale now, with so much of her earlier prettiness subdued.

"Amanda, you and I have had no time at all together in this brief visit. I wanted to talk to you, to know how you are. Do you—" She hesitated, looking for the right words. "Do you still have difficulty sleeping?"

"Do you mean, does the Green Man still come to me? I think I have finally outgrown him, Elizabeth. Or perhaps he has found someone else more to his liking. There is no lack of Green Men here, I think, if one wanted to seek me out."

Joe's face came to Elizabeth: and the hot, dry light in his eye when he realized that night was falling. The fierce determination to protect himself, fear of one kind of death when another sat breathing heavily on his chest.

"Here they are called stone men," Elizabeth said, and then, a little breathlessly: "Have you seen them?"

Amanda turned her face up to the canopy of naked branches, bony fingers against the sky. "I have seen men in the forest, but they were all human enough. They smelled very human, at least." She managed a smile. "No Elizabeth. I have no need to look for new ghosts."

Her eyes lowered to Elizabeth's waist and when she looked up again there was the soft glittering of unshed tears in her eyes. Amanda, pretty, quietly dependable, with a titled husband and more land and money than she needed or cared about, was without the children which had been her only ambition. And unless she opened up the subject, Elizabeth could not talk to her of that single, most important fact in her life.

"I must go," Amanda said hoarsely. "Mother will be looking for me." And she squared her thin shoulders and turned back to the house, pulling her cape around her.

* * *

At Lake in the Clouds they found Baldwin O'Brien firmly settled into the best chair by the hearth. The high color in his cheeks and nose might have been due to the cold, but Elizabeth suspected a very different origin from the halo of scent that surrounded him and made Hannah's nose wrinkle. He had been interrogating Liam—that much was clear from the stony look on the boy's face—and he squinted up at this interruption as if Elizabeth were the interloper.

"Why are you alone, Liam?" she asked.

"I sent the Mohawk squaws away," O'Brien said. "Didn't want them here."

Hannah quickly situated herself next to Liam, and scowled at O'Brien.

"That is most abominably rude of you," Elizabeth said. "Who are you to direct people in and out of my home? I must ask you to leave, and immediately."

Liam blinked at her thankfully, his mouth pressed hard together.

O'Brien scratched at his dusty beard and got up slowly. "I'm an agent of the state treasury," he said. "Got inquiries to make."

"Your role as an official of the government does not give you leave to harass us, or to trespass. If you had a passing acquaintance with your constitution and bill of rights you would know that."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm going," he said. "But if you folks got nothing to hide, then there's no reason to be so closemouthed."

"My husband has spoken to you at length."

"He'd make a good poker player. Don't give anything away."

"There is nothing to give away, as you put it."

"I don't know," he said slowly, looking around himself. "It's curious. You see this musket of mine? I had her thirty year—she went through the war with me. A fine gun, but wouldn't I like to have one of them expensive new rifles? You know I would. Like your man carries, and that big buck, too. The thing is, I ain't never come across Indians better outfitted, even the ones running furs out of Canada. Curious, like I said. Glass in the windows, there. And somebody's been burning wax candles."

Elizabeth forced herself to produce a grim smile. "What you see is nothing more than the fact that my husband married well. That is not a criminal offense, or even one to raise the interest of the treasury, as far as I understand it. Now," she said firmly. "I suggest that you leave before he finds you here and throws you out."