Thrown Out on Christmas Eve, She Took Shelter in an Empty House — Unaware the Duke Was Coming Home
Chapter 5
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"Mr. Pike," said Edmund, "keeps an eye on a great many things. I am something else."That was true, at least. She seemed to accept it, or perhaps she was simply too tired not to."Are you going to send for the constable?" she asked.Edmund looked past her at the boy by the range. As he looked, the boy coughed in his sleep—a deep, wet cough that went on too long. And Hannah's head turned toward the sound without seeming to know she did it.Edmund's mother had died of a cough that went on too long."Not tonight," he said. "No one is going anywhere tonight. The road behind me is already closing. By morning, it will be shut."Hannah lowered the poker the rest of the way. Her hand, he saw, was shaking now that she no longer needed it to be steady."Sit down," he said more gently, "before you fall down. I'll see to the fire.""I can see to my own fire.""It's my fire," said Edmund, "strictly speaking."She looked at him sharply. Then, unexpectedly, the corner of her mouth moved. It was not quite a smile; it was the place where a smile would go if she had any left."Strictly speaking," she said, "it's the Duke's.""Yes," said Edmund. "Of course. That's what I meant."He put more coal on the range. She sat down. After a while, she pushed the porridge pan toward him, and he found a bowl and ate what was left standing up by the fire, and it was the best thing he had eaten in a year.The candle on the sill burned down to the red ring. Hannah reached over and pinched it out with two quick fingers, without hurrying, the way a woman does a thing she has done a thousand times."Why did you put it out?" Edmund asked."It's a Christmas candle," she said. "My father made them. You burn it to the ring on Christmas Eve and save the rest for next year." She wrapped the warm stub in its handkerchief. "There isn't going to be a next year at our house. But there might be one somewhere."Edmund said nothing for a moment."My mother used to buy one of those," he said finally. "Every year, from a chandler in the village."Hannah looked up. "From my father?"He realized what he had said. "From whoever the chandler was. My mother was in service here before." He was making it up as he went, and he hated himself a little for it. "She liked the red ring."