Jacob followed quietly behind. “What about next year? Will this drain off by then? Will we be able to start fresh?”
Adam wished he had better news for his son, but alas, he did not. Jacob, however, was a strong and bright young man, and Adam knew he would find a way to provide for his wife and child. They would all work together as a family.
“Even if we manage to repair the damage to the dykes,” Adam said, “it will take a few years for the rain to rinse out the salt.”
“A few years? What will we do in the meantime?”
“We’ll farm the uplands. We’ve always had enough to meet our needs. We’ll just have to forgo the luxuries.”
They rode down the ridge road to the edge of the marsh, where the muddy floodwater was lapping up against the hill.
“I’m going to call a meeting of the dyke holders,” Adam said, “and we’ll vote on what should be rebuilt. I suggest you prepare yourself for a great deal of dirty work in the next few months, Jacob. We’ll have to locate the breaks, repair them, then we’ll be up to our elbows in marsh mud—digging ditches and trenches to drain it. And if we have to, we’ll build new dykes, high enough and strong enough to hold back the sea, for we will not surrender to it, Jacob, even if it is determined to defeat us.”
Jacob smiled at Adam with admiration. “Your confidence is contagious, Father.”
Adam only wished he could be that confident about his future where Madeline was concerned.
Chapter Nineteen
The storm, they later learned, had caused the Fundy tides to rise to a level five feet higher than ever before, an unusual and extraordinary occurrence that no one had been able to predict. It took six days for the tides to return to normal levels, during which time Adam, Jacob and George, along with other local farmers, surveyed the dykes and searched for breaks and fractures.
To their surprise and relief, they found the damage minimal. Most of the dykes had held strong against the battering of the currents. It had been the extraordinary height of the tides that had caused a natural overflowing.
They also recovered a number of stray cows and goats, as well as Charlie’s horse, Dante, who had managed to escape the flood farther down along the ridge.
During those days of investigation and decision making, Madeline learned that the dance at the Aikens’ barn had been canceled, and to her own chagrin, she was relieved. She had not been looking forward to spending an evening with John Metcalf, trying to pretend that she was interested in him. That would have been too difficult, especially now after all that had happened.
So Madeline spent her days and nights nursing Diana’s broken leg and keeping her company in her bedchamber.
Madeline also had hot soup dumped in her lap, had her hand slapped for checking for fevers, and had been hollered at for keeping the window open when Diana was too cold, or for keeping it closed when Diana was too hot.
Today Madeline found herself in the unfortunate position of having to give Diana a sponge bath. Cautiously, apprehensively, she approached the bed.
“Get that cold cloth out of my sight!” Diana shouted. “It must be your callused hands. You can’t tell if the water is steaming hot or ice cold! I want another bucket ofhotwater brought up here!Hilary!”
Hilary came scurrying into the room.
“I’ll get it,” Madeline replied quickly, trying to quiet Diana. “You don’t need to yell.” She dropped the offending cloth into the basin on the washstand and left Hilary to baby-sit her ladyship.
Taking a few deep breaths to summon her necessary quota of daily patience, which was becoming more and more difficult to fill, Madeline ventured downstairs. She entered the kitchen and fetched a bucket, then went outside to fill it with water.
As she drew the bucket up out of the well, she thought about her relationship with her sister. It had been years since she and Diana had lived in the same house. Madeline had forgotten how demanding and vocal her sister could be about every little discomfort. It was one area where they differed greatly, for Madeline preferred to deal with her own discomforts quietly, by herself. Madeline wondered suddenly how it was possible they could have come from the same mother.
Madeline carried the heavy, sloshing bucket into the kitchen and poured it into the pot over the fire. She wiped a sleeve across her forehead and sank into a chair at the worktable.
Madeline then recalled the string of housekeepers they’d had when she was young. None had stayed more than a few months, until kind Mrs. Stapleton arrived and remained with them for ten years. Madeline had thought the woman simply had no other aspirations, for the others had always explained their reasons for leaving: a more profitable opportunity, a change of heart or a desire to take up a different profession.
Perhaps—as Madeline considered it now with a trifle more perspective—the only reason Mrs. Stapleton had been different from the others and had stayed with them was because Diana had left shortly after she was hired. Diana had gone away to live with their aunt in London and learn how to be a proper lady.
The house had become astonishingly quiet after that.
The sight of steam from the pot pulled Madeline from her thoughts, and she rose from her chair. As she carefully filled her bucket, she thought of Diana’s many complaints that morning, and compared them to the number of complaints Diana had voiced the few times Adam had visited with her to read to her or play cards.
Whenever Adam walked into the room, Diana became perfectly demure and brave in the face of her pain. To be honest, it made Madeline angry enough to spit. Out of sheer agony, she would leave and hand her duties over to Hilary, for Madeline couldn’t bear to watch Diana fluttering her lashes at Adam, using all her accomplished skills to bewitch him.
“Making soup?” said someone behind her.
No, notsomeone.She could not pretend to think it was anyone other than Adam.
