His voice came hoarse. “No.”

“Of course not. She’s been biding her time these years to come back here and get even with all of us. She’ll tear Martha apart if that’s what it takes to get what she wants.”

“If that’s true, you think I can stand back and watch it happen?”

“It’s not your concern,” Lily said. “It’s Da’s. He’s her guardian, and he’s more than equal to Jemima. Let him handle it.”

“I could,” Daniel said. “But I don’t want to.”

That, finally, reached her. Lily closed her eyes briefly and produced a strained smile.

“Is it that far gone?”

Daniel wouldn’t allow himself to look away. “Yes,” he said, and he realized that he had made a decision. “I keep thinking of the day you told Ma and Da about Simon and Angus Moncrieff, that connection. Da said Simon had proved himself and that was good enough, and Ma agreed. Doesn’t Martha deserve the same consideration?”

“No,” Lily said shortly. Her color, already high, deepened.

“And why not?”

“Because,” she said. “Because Angus Moncrieff is dead, and Jemima is very much alive.”

“Once you trusted me,” Daniel said. “When did that change?”

“I trust you,” Lily said, tears in her eyes. “You aren’t the one who worries me.”

Daniel leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“You take care of you and yours,” he said. “And I’ll do the same.”

On his way back to the village, Daniel crossed paths with Ethan.

“You look somber for a man on his way to a party,” his cousin said.

Daniel shook his head. “I just had one of those talks with Lily.” He didn’t need to explain any further; Ethan knew Lily’s ways as well as Daniel did.

“You’re not going to let that spoil things, are you?”

“No,” Daniel said. “I’m not. But I do need some time to think. Ethan, would you do me a favor? Please take Martha my best wishes and ask her if she’ll join us for the ice-out party. I’ll meet you all up there.”

With Daniel gone off to invite Martha Kirby to ice-out, Lily found herself at a loss. The thing that would have settled her—a long, hard walk—was out of reach. Simon would have been able to distract her, but he was off, working on the Blackhouses’ barn.

She put a hand on her belly.

“Your uncle Daniel,” she said. “What should we do about him?”

She heard the little people come into the hall and she called out.

“Eliza, would you call Ma for me please? Ask her to come if she can spare the time.”

Eliza’s head appeared in the doorway. “Are you all right, Auntie?”

She spoke in Mohawk, which took Lily by surprise and delighted her all at once. In the same language she said, “Nothing wrong with me. I just need Ma.”

—

For the rest of the afternoon Lily kept herself occupied with her mother’s first drawing lessons and exercises in line and perspective. While the preparations for the party went on around them, Lily concentrated on paper and the pencil and explained as she drew.

Her mother sat back and put her fingers to her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh.

“What?” Lily said.

“Geometry,” her mother said. “How you resisted learning it, the arguments and rationalizations—they were really very creative. And here you are teaching the practical application of geometrical principles to me.”

Lily’s own mouth twitched at the corner, because really, it was rather funny. She did remember those discussions, carefully worked out with dramatic gestures for emphasis. Much as Birdie had made her case about school at the supper table.

“I suppose the really odd thing is, all the while I was avoiding learning geometry from you, I was practicing it on my own.”

“You had something to prove to yourself,” Elizabeth said. “And now will you please show me again how to find the vanishing point?”

Within an hour she was drawing boxes in three dimensions, her mouth pursed in concentration. Working like this in the soft afternoon sunlight, Lily could see more clearly than ever that her mother had aged. The gray in her hair, the softened line of jaw and throat, the network of lines, most distinct at the corners of mouth and eyes.

“You study me very closely,” she said. “Am I to sit for a portrait?”

And so Lily took out paper and charcoal and worked at catching her mother’s likeness as her mother worked on the very simplest exercises.

She was as serious a student as she had always been a teacher. When she wanted to understand something, Elizabeth Middleton Bonner had no pride; never would it occur to her to pretend that she knew more than she did. She asked questions, listened closely to the answers, probed for weak spots, and asked more questions. Out in the world—anywhere, really, that wasn’t Paradise—ladies did not show such an interest in politics or philosophy, architecture or history. And that, Lily recognized once again, was why her mother had found her place here, so far from all polite society.

Now she had set herself the task of learning how to draw, and she would not leave off until she had satisfied her curiosity and come to the limits of her own abilities, or to the end of what Lily had to offer. There was no doubt that her enthusiasm was completely sincere, which really did do something to lift Lily’s spirits while the others went about getting ready for the ice-out party.