Six
That same afternoon a single rider approached the steward’s cottage, in which now only Michael’s mother remained. Hearing hoofbeats, she went quickly to the window and pulled back the heavy curtains. Though this woman had little left to lose, she was concerned almost in spite of herself for the safety of her niece. And in her darkened frame of mind, she could not help but fear the worst.
A British officer, seated on a majestic bay stallion, slowed his horse to a loose trot and drew rein just beyond the porch. This in itself did not seem such a threat. It could mean anything: some kind of summons, a requisition for cavalry horses and supplies (which they did not have), or simply a saddle-weary officer wanting a drink to soothe his parched throat.
But when she opened the door at his ringing, impatient knock, she took a step back in astonishment, and it was only with difficulty that she preserved a veneer of resignation and indifference.
She saw before her Mary’s face. It was broader, and infinitely masculine---framed in strong and curling black hair, the green eyes fierce beneath scowling brows. But it was the same green, the hair the same shimmering black. Identical too was the fair, unmarked complexion, the smooth and finely chiseled nose and chin. Something in the shape was dissimilar, yet still.....
She could not at first read the riddle, until with an arrogance that could never have come from her niece, he threw back the door and advanced upon her, driving her back into the passage.
“So, my good widow Scott. You recognize the son of your esteemed overlord, and perhaps were expecting him as well?”
“No, truly sir. I don’t know what you mean.” It was not necessary to feign surprise. She could not imagine what the son of the Lord Purceville could want of her.
“I don’t have time for games!” he shouted, pushing past her and searching the adjacent rooms before returning to stand before her. “And what of that hag sister of yours. . .and your daughter?” At these words he perceived genuine alarm in the face of the other.
And alarmed she truly was. For since the day of that terrible battle, which had occurred but a few days’ ride from the cottage, the two women had done everything possible to hide their adolescent charge, whose beauty and innocence made her a natural target for marauding troops.