As Death Draws Near by Anna Lee Huber

hair.
    Everything was arranged as usual across the oak table’s surface, a bit of familiarity in otherwise strange environs. In the reflection of the mirror, I could see the room was not large, though it was more than enough space to suit our purposes. A simple four-poster bed covered in a crisp white counterpane speckled with lace held pride of place in the middle of the wall directly behind me between two tall windows draped in layers of powder blue and sheer white curtains. With the shade cast by the trees crowded around the manor, I suspected heavier drapes were not necessary to block out the early morning light. A massive wardrobe stood in one corner next to a washstand and dresser, while on the opposite side of the chamber a fireplace sat empty and swept clean. Blocks of peat were stacked in a basket to the side, ready to be lit. I had no desire for a fire now, but I had felt the chill in the air as I scampered from the carriage into the house, and I knew by morning I should wish one.
    Bree had just finished untangling my hair, and I’d ordered her to forgo the usual braid and pull it back in a simple queue, when Gage suddenly entered. He barely spared us a glance, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed to pull his traveling boots off. Bree paused in the midst of her task, perhaps a bit disconcerted by his failure to knock as he usually did before he entered. This
was
a strange house, and so our routines were unsettled, but it was unlike him to forgo such a politeness. However, when he collapsed back into the bedding with a groan of contentment, still dressed in his clothes, Bree smiled knowingly to herself.
    Her gaze lifted to meet mine in the reflection of the mirror, telling me she’d guessed at the source of his befuddlement. “Did ye enjoy yer meal and yer ale, m’lady?”
    â€œYes. As did Gage.” I flicked my eyes toward where he still rested with his eyes closed and his hands clasped over his abdomen.
    But apparently he was still conscious and knew me well, for he mumbled, “Don’t look at me like that. ’Twas only two glasses.”
    â€œThree,” I corrected him without condemnation. Normally three glasses of ale on a night should not have mattered, but he was tired and he had drunk them rather quickly.
    His only response was a muffled, “Oh.”
    â€œAye, well, I’d take care.” There was laughter in Bree’s voice. “The Irish brew their ale like everythin’ else. Strong. And you bein’ a foreigner and a man, they willna wait for ye to finish yer glass afore they bring ye another. They consider that hospitality.”
    I rose from my seat and allowed Bree to begin unfastening the buttons down the back of my dress. “I believe we may have more need of you than even we realized,” I told her over my shoulder, thinking of all the things she’d already explained to us. “The difference between a postulant and other nuns, for example.”
    I felt Bree’s fingers fumble for a fraction of a second on one of the buttons before continuing their deft work. “Yes. I s’pose I ken more aboot the Irish from my granny than the rest o’ you do.”
    Gage hadn’t moved, but I could tell he was listening from his position on the bed, and I hesitated over whether to say more or wait until Bree and I were alone. But I knew he must have formed the same questions, and I would almost certainly tell him whatever she said regardless, so I voiced the suspicion that had been nagging at my mind.
    â€œIs that all?” I asked gently.
    With my back to her and being turned away from themirror, I couldn’t see her face, but if it were possible, I could hear her thinking furiously. I didn’t press, knowing that if what I suspected was true, it would be no small thing for her to admit. A clock I hadn’t even realized was there ticked softly away on the mantel.
    When Bree reached the bottom of the tiny