Libbie proved less adaptable though, having always accepted farm life, but never needing to engage its most difficult labors, so that, as soon as Magnus’s death sank in, she began to despair of how they would manage out there on their own and even at the funeral had let it be known to her brother Eli how she feared for their future.

Eli Darson assured his sister that as governess of Stonehouses, fire or none, she need never worry. He set about then, from the next day onward, spreading word in respectable circles how his widow sister was prepared to marry again and that she brought with her a handsome dowry for the right suitor.

She was not the only mistress of Stonehouses, however, and, when she learned of her brother’s plan she worried greatly what Adelia would say once she found out. Out of prudence she tried to hide his doings from the other woman for as long as possible.

By the time the second storm had closed in on them, though, she was grown feverish from being cooped up indoors with no way to leave and openly looked forward to being courted, no longer caring for anyone else’s opinion. “I don’t want to live like a half wild woman,” she said to Adelia. “Perhaps we should just sell what’s left here and move into town.”

Adelia heard this as sacrilege and said as much. “You would sell my boy’s land from under him, wouldn’t you?” she asked, not disguising the note of hardness that crept into her voice. “Well, it is not yours to decide.” She left the house to go slaughter the lamb, which she had finally determined that day to kill, and smoke its meat.

When the old woman left, Libbie went to find her daughters, who were playing in the small room upstairs that they all shared. She sat down on the bed next to them and watched their play silently for a while before saying anything. “When I was your age,” she began at last, stopping their game, “I did not know anything in our lives could ever go wrong. Now you poor innocent darlings must suffer because your father went off to war. I just want you to know everything will be right again.”

The girls were very quiet, never certain how to speak to their mother when her mood turned to the past. Unable to take up their game again, they watched Libbie as she went over to the trunk at the end of the bed and picked up the cushion that lay upon it.

“This is what life was like for us when I was a girl,” she said, holding the pillow out for the two of them to inspect. They were delighted by her embroidery but were usually not allowed to touch it, so it was a great treat for them indeed, and they strained forward to feel the material.

“Papa will come back,” said Rose, turning away from the pillow, even though it cost her great self-control not to go on looking at it.

“Dear, sweet girl,” Libbie said tenderly, “you are right to love your father. He was a great man in his way, but I am afraid he is not coming back.” While the main part of her words were compassionate and filled with understanding, her tongue stood very rigid at the word not, reducing everything else before it.

Rose was quiet through all this. When she thought it safe to do so, she simply left the room and went back downstairs, where she sat on the sofa perturbed, looking out the window toward the lake.

When she saw a pair of riders coming toward the house, though, she ran back upstairs, calling to her mother as she went. Her first thought was that it was her father returning, even if she dare not allow herself to say it, or even hope for it too much, but that is who she wanted it to be.

When the riders drew closer, she was glad she had not said anything, as she could see then it was not Caleum Merian but her uncle Eli and another man she did not recognize. Libbie, though, did not seem to be surprised by their visit when she came to answer the door, having changed into one of her old but still elegant dresses.

When Eli and his guest entered, the adults sat down. Rose could see immediately how happy her mother was, as Uncle Eli introduced his friend as a Mr. Paul Waylon from Chase. Libbie was always made happy to see her brother, but she was surprisingly demure toward the other man, especially as she usually held herself aloof from strangers.

After a pass of conversation that left all the adults laughing, Rose, who had been listening to them from a corner of the room and surmised they were plotting something against her father, went to the strange man and stood directly next to him, glaring coldly.

When he turned to her and remarked what a sweet child she was, then asked her name, she was seized by defiance and replied very evenly, “You are sitting in my father’s chair.”

“War is so difficult for young people.” Mr. Waylon smiled, looking at Eli and Libbie but unmoved by the girl’s outburst. “There is so much they cannot understand.”

“Rose, go upstairs this second,” Libbie told her daughter. “She is usually such a well-behaved child.”

“You mustn’t apologize,” Paul Waylon countered, continuing to smile indulgently. “It is all very natural.” He then turned to Eli. “I’m afraid I should be heading back now. I must attend to some business in town before the shops all close.”

“Well, it has been very nice visiting, Mr. Waylon,” Libbie told him pleasantly, though within she was seething at Rose for ruining the afternoon.

Instead of going on to the bedroom as she had been told, Rose hid on the stairs out of sight from the adults and continued to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Paul, you wouldn’t mind if I let you ride back alone, would you? My sister is a fine cook, and I think I’ll stay here for dinner.”

“Not at all. I will contact you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Well, thank you for coming all this way. It was really a pleasure.”

“It was that, but entirely mine.”

The man could be heard taking his leave, and Eli and Libbie were left alone in the living room.

“He is from the best family of any Negro in the colony,” Eli said, pouring himself a drink from a decanter on a shelf, which had not been touched since Caleum Merian last opened it to offer spirits to his guests. “He can prove his blood too.”

“My husband was one of the finest men I ever knew — of any color,” Libbie countered, letting her feelings for Caleum show for the first time in many months.

“Yes, of course, Libbie, but please don’t behave like the rest of them in this house. You need a man to manage this place properly, and look after yours and your children’s interest. Mr. Waylon will do that, and he is also a gentleman, as you saw when the child behaved so hideously toward him. I think it would be a very successful match.”

“I know what’s in my interest, Eli,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you can sit there and insult my husband.”

“I did not mean to. I only meant Waylon is worthy of you, dear sister.”

At this Libbie softened again. “If he is interested, I will consider it seriously. Do you think it is too soon, though? That I shouldn’t wait longer?”

“The crops have to go in the ground every year, and every year be brought out. Your house has burned down and will not rebuild itself.”

“You are right, dear brother,” she asserted. “I suppose there are widows made every day.”

“You have suffered so much,” Eli said then, making a great show of his sympathy for what she had been through. “You deserve to be happy. You always deserved that.”

“I have been that before, Eli, but thank you,” Libbie answered. In the past she had thought her hardships only the wages for living, but she saw her brother might be right, and there was no need for her to suffer unduly or veil herself in black for the rest of her life. “You will let me know when you have a response from him.”

“I will,” Eli promised. “I cannot imagine it would be anything other than yes, though. After all, what man would not have you?”