Unconquered by Bertrice Small Page A

indoors, poking around the manor and asking questions about the operation of the household. Amanda understood, and wondered what it was that Jared could have possibly said to turn her rebellious sister into such a docile creature. She also wondered how long it would last. The question was answered within the week, when Miranda, wilted and exhausted from a day of making grape conserves, burst into tears at the dinner table.
    Jared leaped up, and was at her side immediately, his concern obvious, to Amanda’s amusement.
    “I cannot do it,” Miranda sobbed. “I simply cannot do it! I detest homemaking! Oh Jared, how can I ever be a good lady ofthe manor? I burn the jam, I ruin an entire batch of cod by oversalting it, my pumpkin pies are overspiced, the soap I made smells more of pig than perfume, and my candles smoke!”
    Relieved, Jared stifled his laughter. “Oh, wildcat, you misunderstood me. I don’t want you to be what you’re not. I only want you to understand how the manor is run. It is not necessary for you to make jam or soap, or salt cod. We have servants to do those things. You need only know how it is done so you can supervise.” He took a slender hand in one of his, and placed a soft kiss on her upturned palm. “This sweet hand is far more skilled in other things,” he murmured so that only she could hear, and a soft blush colored her cheeks.
    Dorothea wondered about this intimacy between her daughter and Jared. True, they were to be wed shortly, but was it entirely proper that he put his arm around Miranda? She had learned from Jemima that he had taken the tray into Miranda’s room the other night and not come out for a full half-hour. With surprise, Dorothea realized that she was envious. After all, she was still young enough to love. The sight of Miranda and Jared in close proximity pained her as she remembered how it had been between her and Thomas. She sighed softly. Had life stopped for her? She wondered.
    The next few weeks sped by as final preparations for the wedding were made. These were mostly ignored by both bride and groom, who rode the island on good days and closeted themselves within the library on bad ones. Occasionally they were joined by Amanda, who was absolutely delighted to see how well suited the pair was.
    The Plymouth Dunhams arrived en masse —six adults and five small children. After an initial uncomfortable moment both families settled down together. Elizabeth Lightbody Dunham and Dorothea Van Steen Dunham quickly became friends. Jared’s mother was enchanted with Miranda, who was on her very best behavior. Dorothea was far better used to hearing Amanda accoladed, and she said so.
    “Of course,” agreed Elizabeth. “Your little Amanda is perfection, and she will certainly make Lord Swynford an ideal wife. But she would never do for Jared. Miranda has spirit. She will lead my son a merry dance, which is exactly what he needs. He will never be quite sure of her, and consequently he will alwaystreat her well. Yes, my dear Dorothea, I am more than satisified with Miranda.”
    St. Nicholas Day dawned clear and cold. The sun had barely peeped over the horizon, reaching with warm golden fingers across the cold blue waters of the bay, when boats set out from both forks of Long Island for Wyndsong Manor. Among the guests would be the Hortons, Younges, Tutills, and Albertsons; Jewels, Boisseaus, Lathams, and Goldsmiths; Terrys, Welles, and Edwardses. The Sylvesters from Shelter Island were coming, as were the Fiskes from Plum Island and the Gardiners from Wyndsong’s neighboring island manor. The house was already filled with the Dunhams, and several days earlier Dorothea’s relatives and close friends had begun arriving from the Hudson Valley and from New York City.
    The twins’ Van Steen grandmother, Judith, was still alive, her corn-colored hair now white, but her eyes as blue as ever. Like her daughter, Dorothea, and her granddaughter, Amanda, she was petite and plump. Her