Libbie looked at Rose, whose punishment she had yet to pronounce, and thought Adelia could hold out as long as she wanted. She had lived to see her husband die at home of old age and had nothing left to fear. Not one in ten other women could claim the same. Of course, she thought, there was still hope. She knew Rose did not mean to aggravate her already uneasy heart but was only showing loyalty to her father, as indeed she should. But the child needed to learn to behave in all matters, and not only those she chose for herself.
“You were very rude today,” Libbie said to the girl, who stood before her, still looking angry. “As punishment, you will go without your supper tonight,” she finished. “You may go now.”
The girl glared at her mother with more outrage at the gross unfairness of all around her and began to march off.
“Rose,” Libbie called after her purposefully, “you may miss your father. You may not defy your mother.”
Rose continued up the stairs with a haughty look on her face, certain of her rights in that house as a magistrate in his own court. She had not intended to hold one parent above the other, but if that is what it meant to keep Mr. Waylon from sitting where he was not supposed to she was prepared to pay that price.
As she sat on the floor in the bedroom sulking, she heard Adelia downstairs, returning from her chores. She wanted to run and tell her what had happened, but knew she would only get into more trouble. Instead she strained to listen as they began preparing dinner.
At table that night Adelia asked where Rose had gotten off to, and Libbie told her the girl was being punished. When pressed why, Libbie was reluctant to answer at first, but finally put down her fork — it could be heard clinking against the plate — and replied defiantly, “Aunt Adelia, I am thinking of marrying again.”
Adelia did not speak but continued with her meal in silence. “That is not right,” she said, long minutes later, after it seemed she would let it pass without comment.
“It is what will happen.”
“But it is not right.”
“It is my intention.”
“That is what you punished your daughter over?”
“It is what will happen.”
The three of them finished dinner, without speaking another word to one another. Adelia had never thought she would live to see such a day, but she was powerless to make the younger woman do anything she did not wish. She only knew she herself would not live there with them if it should come to pass. She would rather live alone in the shell of the old house or even in one of the barns.
Lucky was too young to understand all the rancor that was festering in the house, but felt the tension and tried to hide herself like a garden snail under a leaf.
“Who will you marry?” Adelia demanded to know at last, breaking the tension in the room.
“I am considering Mr. Waylon,” Libbie answered.
Adelia did not know the man and was tempted to ask about him, but she decided to remain quiet and let things reveal themselves — which in the course of time they did.
* * *
Eli Darson rode to the house again the next day to see his sister and tell her of Waylon’s interest in the marriage. When he entered the parlor, he was surprised to find the old woman there as well and so saw no possibility of a private conversation.
“Perhaps I should return another day,” he proposed to his sister.
“No,” Libbie told him, for she had more backbone than her brother. “There is no shame in what I am doing that I need to hide it from my children and relatives.”
“Very well,” Eli went on officiously. “In that case he has suggested, as both of you are well known and reputable — and there stands no obstacle in the way — that you should begin a formal courtship, followed by a timely marriage, with the understanding, of course, that the bridegroom, who does not bring the same resources to the union the bride does, will have certain protections, much as if the scales were reversed. All of which seems reasonable, and as your brother I would counsel you to accept.”
Libbie cast around the room until she caught hold of Adelia’s eye before answering. “It does seem very reasonable, all of it.”
Adelia did not say anything, but Rose, still unrepentant from the day before, said again with perfect evenness, “my father will not like that when he comes home.”
“It is fine,” Adelia said to the girl, before she could get into trouble with her mother. “Everything will work out as it is supposed to, no matter what that might be.”
Eli and Libbie looked at each other. “We can discuss the exact terms when the occasion nears, but I will tell him he is free to call on you,” Eli said with self-satisfaction. He then turned to his niece. “Don’t worry, Rose, you will see that Mr. Waylon is a good man.”
Rose looked at Adelia and held her tongue.
“Your Uncle Eli is talking to you, Rose,” Libbie said, grown furious with the girl.
“It is understandable,” Eli said. “She will come round. I am only glad this is all concluded favorably.” He stood to leave.
Once he had gone, the two women sat there a long spell, looking at each other and thinking about their fate out there, until snow began to fall again on the farm beyond the window. Adelia was slowly resigning herself to the fact that another age had passed there at Stonehouses and that Libbie would eventually have her own way no matter what. She only thought how she herself might best preserve that portion of the land and its memory that was her own, separate from the rest, and keep it out of Waylon’s possession.
As they sat down to supper that evening, the snow was still falling and they were silent, neither speaking to each other nor crossing paths but only sharing the same table. Libbie was decided on her course of action and that it was best for the future.
Rose, for she was old enough to have a will and full conscience of her own, sensed it was inevitable and already began to wish for the day when she would be independent and free of them. She knew the time must come, only she did not know when.
They sat there eating from yesterday’s meat and plotting each her own course, separate from the rest but compatible with her own view of the world and her place in it, and all was silent and blanketed by the snow.
As they finished their meal and began to prepare for bed, though, an awful sound such as none of them had heard before filled the room, sending shivers through each of them and making everything seem stiller than it was before.
The two youngest were afraid, and Libbie knew it was not a natural thing she had heard. Adelia alone had any idea what was happening, although she had never witnessed it but only heard of it, back before in ancient days when her own mistress, Sanne, was alive. She knew then that all was lost and beyond saving.
“It is called Ould Lowe.” She answered their unasked question. “It is an unvanquishable demon.” So say the legends.
nine
Beneath the icy surface of the lake the monster battled against his chains, as he had every day since they were first fastened around him — never ceasing to try and free himself in all the years he had been held captive by the links of iron. Rust had finally softened the shackles enough that he was able to snap one of them, like an enemy’s bones, before swimming to the surface of the water. But he was not yet free. Ice encased the top of the lake, holding him yet in his watery penitentiary. Five nights he did pound against it — and all the length of the days that circled round them — his rage increasing with each desperate knock. As he dwelled then in the refracted light of his aquarium, his memory of the years before began to be restored, like some fearsome returned king, and he knew again his former life and how he had lost his lands and came to be chained. He pushed against the ice in another fit of rage, wanting nothing more than vengeance against those who bound him there.