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“Y es. I’m so sorry,” she told Aunt Amelia. “Your brother died three years ago. Did you not receive my letter? It was… Well, we’ll discuss this all over a cup of tea, but first you must want to get settled in. When did you arrive?”

“If Seaford is gone, why are you not Lady Seaford?” the woman asked.

Ellen could only shake her head. She was about to reiterate that they would discuss everything when the woman realized that Ellen had asked a question.

“Why, I’ve only arrived just now! I stepped off the boat not an hour ago,” Aunt Amelia said. “And then I was confronted with this idiot who wouldn’t let me into my own home!” she said, turning to glare at the poor butler.

“MacAlister was just doing his job, Aunt. He is new, though, and unfamiliar with most of the family. You can’t blame him, truly,” Ellen said, giving the butler a reassuring smile. “Mr. MacAlister, please see that my aunt’s things are brought up to the pink room, and tell—”

“The pink room, God no! Can’t stand pink, and if it’s the one I think you mean, it’s all fluffy and frilly. Absolutely not! Put me in the blue bedroom,” Aunt Amelia said.

“We no longer have a blue bedroom. The pink room isn’t the same as you remember it, I assure you. It’s actually more gray than pink. I think you’ll like it. Come up and I’ll show you,” Ellen said, holding out an arm to direct her husband’s aunt up the stairs.

The room was on the second floor and overlooked the street, but at least there were no frills to offend the lady. Ellen opened the door to the room and was greeted by a rush of cool air. “Ugh! Someone has left this window open. We’ll get the fire started, and it will warm up in a trice,” she said, closing the offending window with a snap.

“Oh, no, I like the cold,” Aunt Amelia said, coming over and opening the window again. She turned and surveyed the room. The walls were pink, but of a dusty color. The counterpane and pillows were gray with nary a frill nor touch of lace to be seen. It was actually rather a masculine-looking room. Ellen had never been fond of it, but she’d didn’t have the nerve to change anything.

Aunt Amelia took a turn around, inspecting the wardrobe and dressing table. She then turned and gave Ellen a nod. “You’re right. I like it.”

“Excellent. The maid should be up in a moment to light the fire—”

“No need. As I say, I like it cold. Just a bit of water with which to freshen up,” the woman said, dropping down on the bed to test its softness. She wiggled her bottom. “Bed’s a little soft, but I’m sure we can do something about that.”

“Very good. I shall see you in the drawing room.” She closed the door behind her and went down to see that the housekeeper was appraised of the arrival. Although, she had no doubt at all that everyone in the house knew and quite likely the neighbors as well.

When Ellen returned to the drawing room, Mrs. Perbury glanced up from her sewing. “Is everything all right?” she asked in an unusual show of interest.

“Yes. My husband’s aunt has just arrived unannounced, that’s all,” Ellen said, resuming her seat.

The lady nodded once and didn’t say another word.

Ellen had just figured out where she was in her embroidery when Aunt Amelia strode into the room.

“I feel so much better,” she announced. She had changed from her traveling clothes to a gown of navy blue which moved oddly, but Ellen couldn’t figure out why without staring rudely.

“I’m so glad. Tea should be up in a moment. Are you hungry? Would you care for something more substantial than biscuits?” Ellen asked, setting aside her sewing.

“No, no. I’m fine. I’ve eaten, thank you.” Aunt Amelia waved her to stay where she was and seated herself on the sofa across from Ellen’s chair.

“So, where is that no good… oh. You said Dicky has died?” A frown pulled Aunt Amelia’s eyebrows down over her bright blue eyes.

“If you mean your brother, yes, I’m afraid he did. His heart… right after we received word that Richard had been killed in battle,” Ellen said gently. It still hurt even when she said it. It had been three years, and it still hurt.

Amelia shook her head sadly. “How awful. I am sorry—for both of them. What of Caroline? I suppose she’s gone too—such a frail thing.”

“Actually, no. She’s at Seaford. I asked her to come to Town with me, but she didn’t think she would be able to manage the excitement,” Ellen said. “I have Mrs. Perbury here to act as my companion.” She nodded toward the quiet older lady who didn’t even lift her eyes at the mention of her name.

“Huh! Deaf is she?” Amelia asked, leaning forward to look at the woman closely.

“No. Just very quiet.”

“Oh.” Amelia sat back in her chair as the maid arrived with tea.

“And your husband? Mr. Rutledge?” Ellen asked after the maid had gone again.

“Dead, nearly a year now. Just keeled over one day right in the middle of negotiations with a tribal leader. They tried to do something for him—good people, the Ottawa. But, well, his time had come, as they said.”

“I am so sorry.” Ellen handed Amelia a cup of tea.

“Yes, so was I. I had to finish the negotiations myself and then make it back to Boston entirely on my own. They sent one brave with me as far as Syracuse, but I had to travel the rest of the way alone. Thank goodness it was summer! If it had been winter, I wouldn’t have made it, that’s for certain.”

“My goodness, you traveled… how many miles all on your own?”

“Nearly a thousand. Took weeks,” Amelia said before taking a sip of her tea.

“A… a… thousand miles? All on your own?” Ellen couldn’t believe it.

“Well, no. Not entirely on my own. I had Gideon with me. He’s a very useful fellow. Good at hunting, although he can’t cook worth a damn. He can pitch a tent well enough and fetch water. I was so sorry to leave him behind in Boston. Left him with some friends, though. He’ll work well for them,” Amelia said, reaching for a biscuit. “Still, it wasn’t the same as having my Abraham with me.”

“No, I’m certain you miss him very much. I still miss Richard, and it’s been three years,” Ellen admitted.

“You two weren’t married very long, though, were you? I seem to remember something hasty. Don’t have a child, do you?” she asked, looking around as if one would spring from behind the sofa or something.

Ellen laughed. “No. No children. Our marriage was hastened because Richard had bought a commission and was heading to the continent to meet up with his regiment. He was killed in his very first skirmish,” she added quietly. She shook off her melancholy and gave Amelia a smile. “But we’d been close ever since we were children, so it was more like losing a friend than a husband.”

Amelia nodded. “That hurts too.”

“So, now you are back?” Ellen asked.

“Yes! I’ve got some sort of inheritance here. I remember Dicky wrote ages ago when our father died and told me of it, but I didn’t save the letter. I thought I’d collect the money and then return to Boston. I don’t have much there, but I’ve got friends which is more than I have here.”

“Well, you have family here,” Ellen pointed out.

Amelia smiled. “Not really. Caroline and I never hit it off. Dicky is dead. Richard too—not that I knew him all that well. I left with Rutledge for America when Richard was still in short pants. I only visited that one time, what was it? Ten years ago?”

Ellen smiled and nodded. “Something like that. I think I was about eleven or twelve. I hardly remember it,” she lied.

In fact, she remembered it very well. She’d been staying at the Seaford’s home, helping to take care of Richard’s mother who’d always been sickly. Her own parents had left her behind as they always did when they went to Town for the season. The Seafords had taken her in, allowing her to stay with them, so she wouldn’t be alone. Lady Seaford had always had a soft heart for a lonely little girl, and she did like the way Ellen took care of her. It had worked out very well until Aunt Amelia had arrived, and the Seafords sent Ellen back home while their guest was in residence. It had been the loneliest three months she’d had to endure.

“Yes, well… I think I’ll stick with my plan,” Amelia said, recalling Ellen to their conversation. “Get the inheritance, then hop on the next ship back to America. You don’t mind that I stay here while I work out the particulars, do you?”

“Not at all! This is your home,” Ellen said immediately.

Amelia nodded. “Well, it’s not. It’s yours, but I appreciate it. I’ll try to keep out of your hair.”

Ellen laughed. “I don’t keep overly busy. I do attend some social functions, my weekly Wagering Whist Society meeting, and I have my volunteer work at the veteran’s hospital, St. Camillus.” She shrugged. “It’s enough to keep me occupied.”

“Wagering Whist Society?” Amelia asked, leaning forward and quirking up one side of her mouth. “That sounds awfully interesting. What is it you wager?”

“Oh,” Ellen laughed. “Actually, we play for secrets.”

Amelia burst out laughing. “That is a high price indeed!”

Ellen couldn’t help but agree. “The information stays within the group and not one word is shared with anyone else—not husbands, sisters, daughters, no one.”

“Have you lost a secret?”

“No. It’s the person who scores the lowest after two rubbers, and so far I’ve managed to not be that person.”

“How long have you been playing?”

“Two years,” Ellen said.

“Hmm… better be careful.”

“Oh, I assure you, I am,” Ellen said with a little laugh.

Amelia got up and strolled over to the mantle to peer behind a vase sitting at one end. She looked a little confused for a moment and then went to the other end and looked behind the bust sitting there.

“Are you looking for something?” Ellen finally asked.

“The tinderbox. It’s beginning to get dark,” Amelia said, turning to glance out the window.

It was hardly even beginning to be twilight. “I’m certain the scullery maid will be in soon to light the candles,” Ellen offered.

But this wasn’t good enough. Amelia shook her head. “I want to light them now. I don’t like the dark.”

Ellen could only think that something had happened to her at some point that made her afraid of being in a darkened room. Personally, Ellen liked twilight and almost mourned for it when the candles were lit. However, she certainly didn’t want to make her guest feel the least bit uncomfortable, so she opened her reticule, which was sitting on the sofa next to her, and pulled out the tinderbox she never went without. “Here you are. You can light one with this.” She got up and handed the box to Aunt Amelia who took it with the most confused expression on her face.

“You carry a tinderbox in your reticule?”

“Yes, always.” Ellen wanted to laugh out loud, but refrained.

“That’s unusual. I like it. Very practical, but unusual.” Aunt Amelia turned the box this way and that in the dying light as she admired it. “It’s very pretty. Who is EC?” The initials were intertwined on the cover of the silver box underneath Ellen’s family crest.

“Thank you. The E stands for Edward, my father’s given name, and the C for Charlotte, my mother’s. My mother gave it to my father for their tenth wedding anniversary. It’s all I have left of them. It was found in the wreckage of their carriage when they were killed in an accident.”

“Oh, how awful. I am so sorry.” Amelia looked a little stricken.

Ellen gave her a slight smile, all she could really manage when thinking of her parents’ death. “It’s all right. It was a very long time ago. I was fourteen.”

“And you carry this with you always?”

“Always.” Ellen gave a nod. It didn’t look like Amelia was going to do anything with it, so Ellen gently took it back and placed it on the mantle, opening it as she did so. She took out the steel and the flint, followed by the few small pieces of touchwood she always kept there. With a few quick strikes of steel to flint, she set the tinder still in the bottom of the box alight then touched one of the pieces of wood to it. She quickly snapped the box closed to dampen the fire and lit the candles of the candelabra with the touchwood.

Amelia gave a barely audible sigh of relief as the light gently surrounded them.

“What a brilliant idea to always have a tinderbox with you. I wonder why I never thought of doing so,” Amelia said. “I will have to purchase one for myself before I return to America.”

Ellen gave a little laugh. “I don’t usually have the opportunity to make use of it, but it certainly is handy when I need it.”