When we arrived at my family's house the sun was nearing its peak in the sky. I couldn't shake the feeling of dread no matter how much I joked with Connor; my smile felt too forced; my laughter too fake. He noticed this - of course he did, he noticed everything - but kept quiet about it. I was grateful - I didn't want his pity.

As I dismounted from my horse and handed him the reins, I said, "You had best leave before my parents see you. They are suspicious enough without seeing me with you."

He looked like he wanted to say something, but before his words could escape he snapped his mouth shut and nodded.

I patted his leg (he tensed as I did so) and hitched my skirts up my shins to better navigate the banks of snow. "I will see you again. Take care of yourself."

"Good luck," he said quietly.

As soon as I knocked on the door, twisting my hands through my skirt, it swung open to reveal a flustered-looking Lydia. Her hair flew out of its loose bun atop her head, and her eyes were gleaming like blue fire. "And what were you doing last night?"

"I can explain–"

"We allowed you to go out with your friend. We trusted you to return home, and you didn't."

"You don't know what happened there," I said, clenching my fists into my skirt. "You wouldn't understand."

"Thomas returned home early. Why didn't you?" She leaned against the door, almost as though blocking my entry. It only reminded me that I was still very much a stranger to this family, still a newcomer, an intruder. Would I ever truly be welcome?

I took a deep breath. "I met my friend there. He's nice."

"And you just left Thomas in the middle of Boston?" She gave a harsh laugh. "Some friend you are."

I could feel that burning in my chest, that prickling in my hands as my heart roared in my ears. "And what of your mothering skills? Or shall we just forget the fact that you abandoned me."

"Do you think I didn't regret it?" she hissed. "That I didn't think of you every day? If I could undo that part of my tapestry, I would."

"Then why did you?"

"This isn't about me," Lydia snapped. "This is about you and your blatant disregard for your family. Do you not think we worried? That we care? Because let me remind you, Cassandra, that there are others in your life. Do you think us fools?"

"No," I snapped. "I just think you were selfish to dump your own daughter and run away to America. What kind of mother does that?"

Honestly, I expected her to slap me. I expected her to shout and scream and fight. It would have been better than what she did: she closed her mouth, guard raised, and said quietly, "You can stay out here until you cool down. Don't even think to come inside until then." And then, in silence, she turned her back on me and closed the door.

I had every intention of staying out there at first. How long would it take me to walk back to the manor? Likely too long, and the longer I stayed out here, the colder I became. But my pride flinched every time I thought of opening that door, of taking the walk of shame up those stairs to my room, so I crossed around the house and scaled the wall by my room, using one hand to haul the window open.

Meredith was sitting on my bed when I crawled through the window. When she heard me, she whirled around with excitement, opening her mouth to cry my name until I held a finger to my lips to silence her. She nodded obediently and copied my action, sitting still on my bed once more while I shook the snow from my clothes.

But she couldn't quite keep the smile from her face when I hugged her. "I missed you," she whispered. "Don't leave like that without saying goodbye."

"I'm sorry, Merry," I whispered back, kissing the top of her little golden head. "I won't do it again."

"Where were you?"

"I met my friends in town." I sat down beside her, picking up my hairbrush from my nightstand, and began to brush her hair.

"Are they nice?" She smiled as I brushed her hair, which had grown past her shoulders.

I thought for a moment. "One of them is quite crotchety," I said, which made her giggle (though I did hush her). "The other is lovely, if not a little quiet."

"Which one is your favourite?"

I smiled at that. "Oh, I couldn't possibly choose. I should hate to hurt their feelings."

She giggled again and leaned against me when I hugged her again. "Mummy and Daddy are cross," she mumbled. "I heard them shouting."

"I know."

"Will they always be cross?"

I was silent for a few moments. "Not with you," I said finally. "It's me they're cross with."

"Why?"

"Because I did something and they didn't like it." Ignoring the twisting feeling in my stomach I said, "It's a dictatorship."

"What's a dicta-ter-chip?"

"Dictatorship." I smiled. "It's when a place is ruled by only one leader, who normally gains that position through brute force."

Meredith pondered on that. "Mummy is the dictator."

I pressed my fist into my mouth to muffle my laughter. "Don't tell her that, Merry. Dictators are ruthless. She might stop me from going out to see my friends again."

She looked up at me. "Then you should invite them here."

That wasn't a bad idea. I kissed her head again. "You'd better go before the dictator shouts at you, too. Little old me needs a nap."

My sister hugged me again. "I'm glad you're home," she said quietly.

Once she was gone, I lit the hearth in my room and lay on my bed, glaring at the snow falling outside my window. I missed Achilles. I missed Connor. Everything was better when I was with them. With a sigh, I turned to my side, now fully facing the window, and I found myself almost wishing that Connor would appear there, hair speckled with snow, eyes gleaming against the harsh white, mischief making his mouth curl.

I gave a slow sigh through my nose. This was no time to be wishing for someone to come for me. The only person who saved me was me. I just wasn't ready to confront Lydia yet.

*

I wasn't ready the next morning either, but found myself hungry, so I was forced to swallow my pride and go downstairs, gripping the bannister rather tightly. Meredith was not yet out of bed, though Lydia and Gabriel were at the dining table when I entered. Their conversation went silent.

"Good morning," Gabriel said.

I returned the greeting and sat, rather awkwardly, at the far end of the table, under the intense scrutiny of Lydia. "How did you sleep?" she said carefully.

"It went," I said.

It seemed she had calmed down sufficiently since the day before, because she said, "Care to tell us just what happened yesterday?"

I poured myself some orange juice. "You've doubtless heard of the riots at the Town House. It caused quite the traffic jam on the way home."

"You're all right?" Lydia gave me the kind of concerned look only a mother could muster, all thoughts of our previous argument banished for the time being. "You remain unhurt?"

"It was very cold," I admitted. "But I ran into a friend while I was there - he helped me get out."

"You haven't mentioned this friend before," Gabriel said. "It surely was not Thomas. Who is he?"

"His name is Connor," I said. "I've met him a few times - when I go shopping with Nadia. He let me stay at his father's for the night and he escorted me back here yesterday."

"Surely you could have come straight home," Lydia said. "You did not need to stay out all night. We worried for you."

"Connor is quite stubborn. Besides, it was so very cold." I took a too-casual sip from my cup.

Lydia and Gabriel exchanged a long look, and for a few moments there was a silence so thick I could have cut it with a spoon. I clenched one fist in my lap, determined not to let them see. Finally Lydia said, "I'm sorry we fought yesterday. I really don't want us to fall out over something so trivial."

"I'm sorry, too," I said, holding the cup like it would be taken from me. It would appear that we would not talk about yesterday's other argument yet, which was fine - I wasn't sure I was ready to get into that yet. Still, I welcomed Lydia's hug when she stood by me.

Once she was seated again, she and Gabriel exchanged another look, though this time there was an apprehensive excitement swirling between them. I thought it best not to pry, and instead took another sip of orange juice. They would tell me in their own time.

I did not have to wait long before Lydia was beaming at me with the sort of joyful abandon of a child. "Cass, we have something to tell you. Actually, we found out the other day, but you weren't exactly here so we couldn't tell you." When it became evident that Gabriel, smiling as he was, was not going to say it, Lydia faced me again, her smile growing ever-wider as she said, "We are expecting another child."

I sat for a moment, nursing my cup like a bottle of whiskey, before it finally clicked. "I'm getting another sibling?" Goodness, that does sound very selfish of me.

When they nodded eagerly and Lydia's eyes shone like sapphires, I beamed back at them. "Congratulations! Have you told Meredith?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No. We thought we would break it to you first, as you are the eldest and you can, quite frankly, handle news better. Would you mind fetching her?"

"Of course." I stood, draining my glass, and walked to the bottom of the stairs, sweeping a hand down my skirt to straighten the creases. "Merry," I called. When she peeked out of her room, I said, "Mummy and Daddy want to talk to you."

As she bounded down the stairs, she shared a conspiratorial smile with me, eyes darting to Lydia, and I laughed, ruffling her hair. She yelped in protest, batting my hand away.

They broke it to her gently (thankfully she did not think to ask, Where do babies come from?). "I'm going to be a big sister?" she gasped. Her smile outshone the stars. "When?"

"Around. . ." Gabriel looked, in question, at Lydia. "Christmas time?"

"Christmas. . ." Meredith echoed when Lydia nodded. My sister's face morphed in a momentary bout of fear. "It's not going to be my Christmas present, is it?"

"No." Lydia laughed at her, which made her frown. Meredith hated being laughed at. "You'll still get your present but you'll get your brother as an extra."

"Brother? You know what it is?" Her eyes could have been their own moons. "Did you ask a fairy?"

Gabriel smiled at her, his face laden with affection. "Yes. We asked the kind fairy who comes to our garden every day."

In reality, they had no idea which gender the child would be. How could they? Still, Meredith gaped. "There's a fairy?"

"Of course there is!" When Gabriel laughed, I couldn't help but think of all the tales of Father Christmas that Sophia had told me as a child. "Why don't you go outside and look for her? She likes to sit by the daisies."

But Meredith was already gone, much to our amusement. As I watched her careen out the door (almost running face-first into the wall), I smiled. And for the first time since I arrived in America, I was looking forward to the future.

*

August, 1770

I stood in the kitchen, helping my mother and Nadia with the chores. They chattered lightly together as they scrubbed the dishes, their sleeves rolled up to their elbows, though the ends were still soaked. I was drying these dishes to a shine as they were passed to me.

When we finished, Lydia tapped the top of my head with one dripping hand. "Cass, a word?"

"That was three," I said, wiping my hair.

"Sh." She rolled her eyes and playfully batted me. "Gabriel and I have spoken," she said, "and as your birthday is approaching, we have decided to bestow upon you a gift."

"A usual occurrence on one's birthday, I should think," I said.

"Hush," Lydia said with a laugh. "I'm trying to be nice. Seeing as you speak so highly of your friend, Gabriel and I would like to write to him to invite him and his father over for tea. We know how much they mean to you, and it would be nice to finally put faces to the names."

I pressed my hands to my heart, smiling so widely my cheeks hurt. "Thank you. Thank you!"

Lydia caught my arms and hugged me. "You're welcome, darling. We would love to get to know them."

"When?" I said.

"Whenever we post that letter. Mind doing that?" She pulled an envelope, sealed with wax, from her pocket. "Take Merry with you." Then she looked at my feet and clicked her tongue with distaste. "Oh Cass. . . your shoes are filthy. That muck is never going to come out."

I pulled up my skirt to admire my leather shoes, which were caked with mud. "They're not that bad," I said.

"Not that bad," she scoffed. "Do you hear that? That low, rumbling noise?" She held a hand up to her ear as though listening to some sound afar. "That's the sound of my mother turning in her grave. You can buy some new shoes while you're in town." She produced a few crumpled notes from her pocket.

"Thank you," I said and took the money. "Would you like anything whilst I'm away?"

"Right now," she said with a sigh, "my only wish is to see you wearing a new pair of shoes. Now begone"

I found Meredith sitting on my bed, looking out the window; she hummed the tune to one of my piano pieces to herself, unaware that I was behind her until–

"Merry!" I shrieked like a banshee and jumped on my bed, which made her bounce. Her laughter was music. "Do you want to come into town with me?"

"Really?" She joined me in standing on my bed and began to bounce, her bare feet creasing the coverlets like bird's feet in snow. "Sure."

"Put your shoes on, then." I held her hand as she jumped off the bed and skipped into her room. She knelt on the floor and slipped on her little leather shoes, tongue sticking out of her mouth slightly as she slowly tied her laces with the utmost concentration.

"Wait," she said and held up a hand. "I have something for you."

I pressed a hand to my mouth. "A gift? For me? It must be Christmas."

"Not Christmas, silly." She waved a length of green ribbon at me. "It's your birthday."

"How could I forget?" I sat on her bed and she climbed behind me, pulling my hair back to tie it with the ribbon.

"There." She leaned back to admire her work. "Now you look pretty."

"Are you implying that I wasn't pretty before?" I gasped.

"No," she said. "Now you're prettier." As I took her hand and led her outside, she looked up at me. "Is your friend coming with us?" she asked.

"Who's my friend?" I frowned. "Darling, I have so many, it's difficult to count."

"Tommy," she said with a beam.

"Right. Tommy." I nodded. "Shall we invite him? I'm sure he would like nothing better to do than go shopping with a pair of girls, hm?"

"Please?" She fixed me with a pair of puppy eyes such that I could not refuse her begging, and easily gave in to her - much to her glee. She was pleased, also, to show off to me that she knew the way to Thomas's house, and could hardly contain her excitement while she knocked on the door.

As soon as he opened it with a cautious, "Hello?" my sister cried, "Tommy!" and hugged him.

For a moment, he was taken by surprise, but then he was hugging her and ruffling her hair. "Good morning, ladies," he said, flashing a smile at me. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

When I hugged him, his scent of lemongrass and spices washed over me. It always made me feel safe. "We were just–"

"Do you want to come shopping with us?" Meredith cut me off in her excitement.

Thomas and I shared an amused look, and, grinning, I said, "Well, there you have it. She's said it all. Would you care to join us?"

"Oh, I would love to, but I simply can't," he said, sagging against his door. "I've been taken with illness. Look, I'm shaking." To prove this, he held up an exaggeratedly trembling hand.

"No, you're not!" giggled Meredith.

"I'm not?"

"No," she said, tugging on his hand. "You're fine."

Now he grinned. "You hear that, Cass? Your sister thinks I'm fine."

"I'll grind you into a fine dust in a minute," I said, lightly prodding his shoulder. "Humour her."

"Oh, only if I must." He fanned his face. "This hot weather is not good for my fever."

While we walked into town, with Meredith pausing every few feet to examine interesting pebbles in the road, I turned to Thomas. "What was with the whole–" I mimicked him– "Hello? thing back there?'

"Oh. Sorry." He shook his head. "My brother has made some new friends and I don't much like them."

"Say no more." I nodded. "My mother wants me to buy new shoes. Apparently these are too muddy."

He squinted down at my foot when I stuck it out. "They're not that bad," he said.

"That's exactly what I said!" I threw up my hands. "But there's no arguing with a pregnant woman. She's nearly killed poor Gabriel."

"When is she due, again?"

"Apparently around Christmas," I said. "Just in time for me to introduce him to awful Christmas jokes. I really feel the need to pass on my legacy."

Thomas groaned. "For the love of all that is holy, please do not ruin that child with your awful jokes. One of you is bad enough."

"You hurt me." I clutched my heart. "Leave me. I'll post my letter all by myself."

"Who are you writing to?" He winked. "Anyone interesting?"

"The king himself," I said. "My mother got it into her head that she wanted old George over for tea, and you know how women get when something gets into their heads. . ."

"You're going to be an absolute nightmare of a woman when you're grown up." Thomas laughed. "God bless the man who marries you."

"Hah!" I said. "Joke's on you, no one will ever want to marry me. I'm going to die an old maid."

"We can be neighbours," he said, whacking my arm. "You can be an old maid who knits all day for her fifteen cats, and I'll be a cranky old man who collects birds in cages - these birds commonly go missing under mysterious circumstances, but I blame your cats - and the local children will hate me because I'll always yell at them to get off my lawn."

"You've put far too much thought into this," I said. "I mean, I would suggest that we make a pact to marry each other if no one else will, but. . . I don't want to."

He made a face at me. "I'd rather drown myself than wake up to that ugly mug every day." When he playfully shoved me, I pushed back twice as hard, and when Meredith ran in between us and shoved both of us, none stopped laughing for the rest of the walk into town.