Part 6 (1/2)

”I don't believe you could dance a waltz,” she said, ”as untrained and clumsy as you are.”

It was true. I'd never taken a dancing lesson. Miss Medleycoate had never encouraged any of us to imagine we might someday spin around a ballroom with a handsome suitor.

”I could play the piano with a precocity that amazed both Aunt and Uncle,” Sophia went on. ”I sang, too, but I am now sadly out of practice.”

I looked at her with both pity and loathing. Pity because she was most certainly dead and not about to go dancing with anyone. Loathing because she was mean and spiteful and obviously had not benefitted morally from dying.

Pulling the drapes aside, Sophia peered at the snow. ”Quick, put on your coat. I have a mind to build a snowman.”

Although I was comfortable where I was, I found myself running to my room. When I returned with my coat, scarf, hat, and mittens, Sophia wrinkled her nose.

”If you were as I am now, you wouldn't need those c.u.mbersome garments,” she said. ”You'd never be hot, never be cold, never be hungry or tired or afraid.”

”I'd never be anything,” I murmured.

Although I hadn't meant her to hear me, Sophia gave me a hateful look. ”If justice prevails,” she said, ”I will soon be as you are.” Under her breath, she added, ”And James will be as I am.”

”What do you mean?” I asked, but she merely laughed.

”Come along,” she called. ”I'm eager to build my snowman.”

Nellie looked up as we ran through the scullery. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped, her face puzzled, then frightened. ”Miss,” she cried. ”Miss!” But she didn't follow me.

Outside, Sophia darted across the snow and disappeared into the garden. She left no tracks, but I found her easily enough, waiting for me by the fountain. The stone children and their captive swan wore hats and coats of snow, and the words on the rim were hidden.

”This has always been my favorite place.” Sophia brushed the snow off the fountain's rim and read the inscription. ”Here and there and everywhere-it's a riddle,” she said. ”Do you know the answer?”

I shook my head, and she smiled. ”Just as I thought. You're not nearly as clever as I am.”

Leaning close to me, she chilled my cheek with her wintry breath. ”Uncle says the answer is time, though he thinks it could also be the wind. But I know the true answer.”

Sophia's eyes held mine. I couldn't turn away. ”It's Death,” she whispered. ”Death is here and there and every where.”

Sophia looked at the house, its dark stone almost black against the whiteness, its roof and tall chimneys blending into the sky. ”You cannot escape death,” she said softly. ”You'll find out for yourself someday. Perhaps when you least expect it, he will come for you.”

I drew away from her, burrowing my face into the warmth of my scarf. It was true. There was no escaping something you couldn't see, even if you knew where to look.

”I've scared you, haven't I?” Sophia's laugh was as brittle as the sound of ice breaking. ”Start rolling a ball for the snowman. I want it to be as tall as the chimney tops.”

She kept me working until my toes and fingers were numb from cold. Slowly the snowman took shape. Three b.a.l.l.s of snow balanced one atop the other, not nearly as tall as the chimney tops, but lofty enough to see eye to eye with the stone children on their pedestal.

Sophia studied the snowman. ”He needs a carrot for his nose and lumps of coal for his eyes and mouth. Run to the kitchen and come right back. Promise.”

Obediently I darted through the snow and into the warmth of the kitchen. Stuffing a handful of coal into my pocket, I grabbed a carrot from the table.

”Here,” Mrs. Dawson said. ”Where are you going with that carrot? I just pared it for tonight's stew.”

”It's for the snowman we're building in the garden.”

”'We'?” Mrs. Dawson looked at me in surprise. ”You and who else? If Nellie is out there playing, you tell her to get herself inside. She has work to do.”

A bit rattled by my slip, I shook my head. Mrs. Dawson would not want to hear about Sophia, waiting impatiently for me. ”I'm building it. Just me. I don't know why I said 'we.'”

Mrs. Dawson held out an unpeeled carrot and I returned the one she'd pared. ”Your lips are blue with cold, child. Stay inside a bit and warm up. The snowman can wait for his nose.”

”No, I promised I'd be right back.”

”Promised who?”

Without answering, I slipped out the door and ran to the garden. I didn't dare keep Sophia waiting.

”You took your time,” Sophia said.

She watched me add the snowman's eyes, mouth, and nose. ”No, no,” she said crossly. ”He mustn't smile.”

s.n.a.t.c.hing the lumps of coal, Sophia rearranged them and stood back, with a grin. She'd transformed my creation. With frowning brows and a grim, downturned mouth, he stared at me. He was fearsome, almost as frightening as Sophia herself.

”Perfect.” She smiled and stepped back to admire her creature. ”It will give everyone a start to see him standing here exactly where I built mine.”

Suddenly she tensed as a cat does when it hears something no one else does. ”Hide,” she cried. ”He's coming!”

Frightened, I followed Sophia into the yew trees around the fountain and huddled under the snowy branches. ”Who's coming?” I whispered.

There was no answer. Sophia had vanished.

”Who be here?” Spratt called. ”Come out and show yerself.”

With some embarra.s.sment, I crawled out from the yew tree. In doing so, I brushed against a branch that then dumped its load of snow on my head.

”Well, it be hard to say which be the girl and which be the snowman,” Spratt said with a chuckle.

I brushed the snow off. My nose felt like the carrot in the snowman's face, frozen hard as diamonds.

While I stamped my feet to warm them, Spratt studied the snowman. ”This be a right good job,” he said, ”but there's summat familiar about him.” He put his hand on my shoulder. ”Could it be ye had some help a-building it?”

When I didn't answer immediately, he went on, ”I sees onliest one set of footprints. I reckon they be yers. Her don't leave no footprints.”

”Sophia,” I whispered. ”She made his face.”

”Hush, don't be saying her name. That's like inviting her to come.” Spratt leaned on the shovel he'd been using to clear snow from the garden walk, and peered into my eyes. ”Ye see her, do ye?”

I nodded. ”First I felt her, then I heard her, and now I see her. She comes to my room, she follows me upstairs and down. No matter where I go, I can't escape her.”