Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
The storm, they later learned, had caused the Fundy tides to rise to a level five feet higher than ever before, an unusual and extraordinary occurrence that no one had been able to predict.
It took six days for the tides to return to normal levels, during which time Adam, Jacob and George, along with other local farmers, surveyed the dykes and searched for breaks and fractures.
To their surprise and relief, they found the damage minimal. Most of the dykes had held strong against the battering of the currents. It had been the extraordinary height of the tides that had caused a natural overflowing.
They also recovered a number of stray cows and goats, as well as Charlie’s horse, Dante, who had managed to escape the flood farther down along the ridge.
During those days of investigation and decision making, Madeline learned that the dance at the Aikens’ barn had been canceled, and to her own chagrin, she was relieved.
She had not been looking forward to spending an evening with John Metcalf, trying to pretend that she was interested in him.
That would have been too difficult, especially now, after all that had happened.
So Madeline spent her days and nights nursing Diana’s broken leg and keeping her company in her bedchamber.
Madeline also had hot soup dumped in her lap, had her hand slapped for checking for fevers, and had been hollered at for keeping the window open when Diana was too cold, or for keeping it closed when Diana was too hot.
Today Madeline found herself in the unfortunate position of having to give Diana a sponge bath. Cautiously, apprehensively, she approached the bed.
“Get that cold cloth out of my sight!” Diana shouted. “It must be your callused hands. You can’t tell if the water is steaming hot or ice cold! I want another bucket of hot water brought up here! Hilary!”
Hilary came scurrying into the room.
“I’ll get it,” Madeline replied quickly, trying to quiet Diana. “You don’t need to shout.” She dropped the offending cloth into the basin on the washstand and left Hilary to sit with her ladyship.
Taking a few deep breaths to summon her necessary quota of daily patience—which was becoming more and more difficult to fill—Madeline ventured downstairs. She entered the kitchen and fetched a bucket, then went outside to fill it with water.
As she drew the bucket up out of the well, she thought about her relationship with her sister.
It had been years since she and Diana had lived in the same house.
Madeline had forgotten how demanding and vocal her sister could be about every little discomfort.
It was one area where they differed greatly, for Madeline preferred to deal with her own discomforts quietly, by herself.
Madeline wondered suddenly how it was possible they could have come from the same mother.
Madeline carried the heavy, sloshing bucket into the kitchen and poured it into the pot over the fire. She wiped a sleeve across her forehead and sank onto a chair at the worktable.
Madeline then recalled the string of housekeepers they’d had when she was young.
None had stayed more than a few months, until kind Mrs. Stapleton arrived and remained with them for ten years.
Madeline had thought the woman simply had no other aspirations, for the others had always explained their reasons for leaving: a more profitable opportunity, a change of heart, or a desire to take up a different profession.
Perhaps—as Madeline considered it now with a trifle more perspective—the only reason Mrs. Stapleton had been different from the others, and had stayed with them as long as she had, was because Diana had left shortly after she was hired.
Diana had gone away to live with their aunt in London and learn how to be a proper lady.
The house had become astoundingly quiet after that.
The sight of steam from the pot pulled Madeline from her thoughts, and she rose from her chair.
As she carefully filled her bucket, she thought of Diana’s many complaints that morning, and compared them to the number of complaints Diana had voiced the few times Adam had visited with her to read to her or play cards.
Whenever Adam walked into the room, Diana became perfectly demure and brave in the face of her pain.
To be honest, it made Madeline angry enough to spit.
Out of sheer agony, she would leave and hand her duties over to Hilary, for Madeline couldn’t bear to watch Diana fluttering her lashes at Adam, using all her accomplished skills to bewitch him.
“Making soup?” said someone behind her.
No, not someone. She could not pretend to think it was anyone other than Adam.
Madeline straightened and faced him. His clothes were filthy with ground-in mud, his boots caked with it. He moved to the wash bucket to rinse his hands.
Madeline set the heavy bucket on the floor. “I am taking hot water upstairs for Diana.”
His ebony hair, pulled back in a loose queue and tied with a leather string, gleamed in the late-morning light. Madeline watched him from behind as he rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands and forearms, then reached for a cloth to dry them.
He’d never looked stronger to her, more virile. She imagined him down on the marsh, thrusting a dyking spade into the tough earth with his big boot, using all his strength to haul sod.
His intense eyes cut through the distance between them. He dropped the towel onto the worktable and strode toward her.
She took an instinctive step back and realized uncomfortably that she had barely looked him in the eye since the morning after the accident, when she had pulled away from him.
They had hardly spoken a word to each other since.
All they’d done was brush by each other on the way in and out of Diana’s room, or avoid speaking to each other at the dinner table.
Madeline had slammed the door in his face six days ago and had driven a sharp wedge into their friendship.
Friendship? What kind of aberrant friendship was it? she wondered suddenly as he stopped before her, staring down at her in silence. Her heart was throbbing against her ribs!
Adam was so close, she could smell his clean, manly scent. She bent to pick up her bucket.
Adam touched her shoulder to stop her. “Don’t go.”
Her heart jolted at the feel of his strong hand upon her. She could feel the heat of it through her clothes, and it distressed her in every possible way. “I have to. Diana is waiting.”
“She can wait a little longer. You have been caring for her continually around the clock. Stay and have some tea.”
Reluctantly Madeline surrendered. She moved to the hearth and poured the hot water back into the pot on the fire to keep it warm, while Adam spooned tea leaves into the teapot.
The silence between them was excruciating.
Madeline sat down, fumbling and grasping for some casual conversation. Anything would do.
“Where is Penelope today?”
“She is at Jacob’s house, helping Mary with the baby. I believe that child is ready to be a mother, and she’s only eight.”
“She is a wonderful girl, Adam. You should be proud.”
He gave her an appreciative look. Not that it mattered what kind of look it was. It was a look, an acknowledgment after days and days of disregard that she certainly deserved for being so cold and unfeeling toward him. Madeline felt her insides warm a little.
“Were you able to save any of your hay crop?” she asked.
“None. But the profits from the herd we just drove to Halifax will keep the animals from starving over the winter.”
“What about you and the children?”
He poured water into the teapot. “The crops in the high fields survived, so we’ll have plenty to eat. We just won’t be making any luxury purchases.”
“Thank goodness for small mercies. What about the marsh? Will you be able to rebuild it?”
“With hard work, yes. All the farmers have been doing their share, and we’ve already begun the repairs. The floodwaters are draining off. Now, it’s just a matter of maintenance over time.”
They talked more about the marsh and the flood and what the future held, and were so deep in conversation, they didn’t hear Hilary descending the stairs. She walked into the kitchen and found Madeline and Adam sitting across from each other at the table.
Hilary hesitated awkwardly in the doorway. “Begging your pardon, Miss Oxley. I don’t mean to interrupt, but Lady Thurston is waiting for her bathwater.”
Madeline cleared her throat and stood. “Of course, it’s ready now. I just have to—”
Adam interrupted. “Hilary, please tell Lady Thurston that Madeline requires a cup of tea, and that she will be up with the water after she has had a moment to rest.”
Hilary gazed with bewilderment at the two of them. She looked uncomfortable about delivering the message.
Adam stood. “I will tell her myself if you like.”
Madeline gazed at him in horror. “No, that’s not necessary. Hilary, tell Lady Thurston I will be right there.”
She glanced back at Adam and saw his disappointment by the rise and fall of his chest. Hilary left the kitchen, and Madeline turned to Adam. “Just what did you intend to tell her?”
He sank back into his chair. “Nothing, Madeline. I was only going to tell her that you were having a cup of tea. She wouldn’t have complained about it to me.”
Madeline sighed with relief. She sat down.
“Are you worried that I am going to tell her the truth before you think she’s ready?” Adam asked. “I have to admit, I’m tempted.”
“Please, don’t. Wait a little longer, until she’s on her feet.”
“Fine. I will wait until then.” His gaze lifted slowly to meet hers. “But what about after that? If you return to Yorkshire with her, will you remain there forever?”
What was he getting at?
She swallowed uncomfortably. “Adam, I thought we weren’t going to talk about this again.”