Avery shivered and wrapped the scarf more firmly around her throat. She crouched and tugged another potato from the hard, cold ground, tossing it into the basket at her feet before lugging the basket a few feet down the row.
Two rows down, Laura and Renee, both huddled against the cold wind, were busy digging potatoes out of the ground as well. It was the last of the potatoes and Avery was glad. Although she usually enjoyed being outdoors, the days were growing so cold that it was pure misery to be outside.
She pulled her fingerless gloves up more snugly, sighing a little at the sight of her red and chapped fingers. She used to have pretty hands – the nails perfectly manicured and the skin soft and smooth. Now, months of scrubbing and cleaning and digging in the dirt had made her hands rough and her nails broken and jagged. She smiled ruefully. There seemed to be a permanent row of dirt under her broken nails that refused to disappear no matter how hard she scrubbed her hands.
At least she was warmer than normal. Tristan had demoted Mrs. Lanning like he threatened and replaced her with Marian. In the last week Marian proved to be tough but fair. She had divided up the chores evenly amongst the slaves, and Avery bit back a smile at the memory of Mrs. Lanning scrubbing the floor in the dining area. Marian still assigned Avery to the west field to pull the remaining potatoes before the ground became too frozen, but unlike Mrs. Lanning who often sent Avery out in just a dress and thin sweater, Marian ensured that Avery was warmly dressed.
It was a shame that it had taken so long for Mrs. Lanning to lose her position as the head of the household. The last week had been almost pleasant and if it weren't for how much she missed Tristan, she might actually have considered staying. She rubbed her forehead, leaving a smear of dirt across her brow, and then angrily yanked a potato from the dirt. She'd promised herself she would not think about Tristan or how she wished he loved her. He'd kept his promise and not approached her again since the night after the full moon, and now there was a coolness emitting from him that hadn't been there before.
It was for the best. In three days, he would deliver her to the Barton's home, and she would not see him again. He'd been so sweet and gentle with her the night she had come to his room that she'd allowed herself to almost believe he cared for her the same way she cared for him.
She'd just been fooling herself, of course. The ease with which he entirely dismissed her now, proved that she was making the right choice. He'd only spoken to her once. She was in the kitchen, about to start washing the dishes when he had cleared his throat behind her. At her nervous hello, he nodded and then told her that he would be taking her to the Bartons before the week's end.
His eyes were blank of any emotion and his voice nearly serene when he told her. He hadn't waited for her reply, just turned and left the kitchen, leaving her to stare at his retreating back while hot tears pricked at her eyes.
Since then, he'd avoided her. She knew he was spending most of his free time going riding with Sophia and Victoria, and she was made herself scarce whenever they were in the house together. But two days ago, just before she retired for the night, Marian sent her to the common room to grab a forgotten sweater. Her stomach dropped and her face paled when she saw Tristan and Victoria on the couch closest to the fireplace. They were simply sitting together, his arm
across the back of the couch and her body curled into his with her hand resting on his leg, but it had been enough to send a shot of pure jealousy through her.
It would have been better if she'd caught them kissing, she decided. Somehow the casual comfort they were displaying with each was worse. It was much too easy to imagine them building a life with each other, raising children and growing old together while she remained alone and pining for Tristan for the rest of her life.
She'd muttered an apology, grabbing the sweater as Victoria rubbed Tristan's leg and smiled smugly at her. Tristan had glanced her way, the look in his eyes unreadable, before staring into the fire. She'd fled the room, sick to her stomach, and practically thrown the sweater at Marian before escaping to her cold room, crawling into her bed, and crying bitterly.
She dragged her basket of potatoes toward the end of the row. Jeffrey, who was standing guard, approached her and picked it up easily.
"Thank you, Jeffrey," she said.
He nodded and she trailed after him as he carried the basket to the wagon and dumped the potatoes into the back of it. As he was handing it back to her, the sound of horse hooves could be heard in the cold, silent air and he turned and looked behind him, frowning a little.
"What's this then?" he said half to himself. Avery peered around his stocky frame to see a rider on a horse, running hard.
"I think that's Marshall, is it not?" she replied.
"Aye. He seems to be in a hurry."
They stood together and watched as Marshall grew closer. He pulled his horse to a stop
beside them and as Jeffrey grabbed the horse's halter, Marshall shouted, "Avery, you need to come back with me – right now!"
"Marshall? What's wrong?" She could feel a thread of fear in her belly at the sight of his pale face and wild eyes.
"Sophia's been hurt. She was out riding with Tristan and Victoria and the horse was spooked. She fell off her horse and at first seemed fine but now she's -"
He stopped, swallowing convulsively and Avery ran to his horse. Jeffrey boosted her up and she slid onto the horse behind Marshall, wrapping her arms around his waist as he wheeled the animal around and urged the horse into a full run toward the house. Avery buried her face in his back, saying a silent prayer for the little girl.