A Place For Miss Snow Read online

  “Do you have other sisters?” Diana asked as they walked toward the house.

  “No. Only brothers. One sister is enough.”

  Diana wondered how much of his bad humor was for show. Was he simply attempting to keep his soft feelings from showing? She thought he must love his sister, based on the concern he’d shown for her when they’d seen the klepht. Diana had to admit to not fully understanding family associations. She thought if she had a sister, she would never grow tired of her.

  When they entered the house, Kyros crossed to Sophia and kissed her hand. “How do you feel today?” His gloomy expression changed to one of concern, and Diana was again reminded how little she knew about being part of a family.

  “I hoped you would come with your sister,” Sophia said. Diana thought her voice already sounded tired, and she had woken only a quarter of an hour earlier. “I wanted to ask you to carry the sofa into the garden. I have not been out of doors for days, and I fear baking will make the house too hot for comfort.”

  “Of course.” Kyros glanced at the giggling girls. “Stella, Elena, assist me.”

  Elena helped her mother walk while Stella and Diana lifted one side of the heavy sofa. They followed Sophia’s instructions, setting the sturdy piece of furniture beneath a shady tree near the side door, mostly shielded from the road by bushes of flowers.

  The girls arranged the pillows, and Diana turned over a bucket, setting a cup of milk near enough that Sophia could reach it easily.

  “Thank you.” Sophia reclined back with a sigh and a wince as she adjusted into a more comfortable position.

  Kyros departed, promising to return in the afternoon to walk his sister home to Limeni.

  Diana placed extra pillows beneath her feet, and Sophia smiled in gratitude, her fingers playing over the string of beads as she closed her eyes. Insects buzzed soothingly, and a cool autumn breeze ruffled the leaves, carrying the smell of blossoms and ripe fruit. The spot Sophia had chosen was beautiful, and Diana thought she would not mind napping in the garden herself. She yawned and left Sophia to her rest, promising to return soon to check on her.

  The sound of young girls’ chatter came from the kitchen.

  “Come, Missno.” Elena set a burlap sack onto the table. “We have many cookies to make.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve never made cookies—or much of anything aside from what you’ve shown me,” Diana said.

  Stella’s eyes widened.

  “Then we shall teach you.” Elena opened the sack, showing the almonds inside. “Will you cut up the nuts?”

  “Yes.” Diana took a knife from the drawer and brought a board to the table. She watched as Elena demonstrated how finely the nuts should be chopped.

  “Is it true?” Stella asked. “You have never baked cookies?”

  “Very sad, isn’t it?” Diana pouted her lip and blinked her wide eyes in a teasing way that made the girls laugh. “In London, I taught reading, arithmetic, German, French, and embroidery, but never cooking.”

  “But your mother,” Stella said, cracking eggs into a bowl, “surely you baked with—”

  The shaking of Diana’s head stopped her words. “I do not have a mother.”

  Stella turned her face downward, but not before Diana saw an embarrassed flush. “I am sorry.”

  “You did not mean anything by it.” Diana forced a bright smile. “Now, I have never been to a Greek wedding either. You must tell me all about it.”

  “The wedding itself is a very beautiful but very long ceremony,” Elena said. She puffed out a labored breath to illustrate. Then her face brightened. “But afterward, the wedding party is a grand celebration.”

  “The square will be swept and decorated with banners and lanterns. And tables are arranged for a feast.” Stella whipped the eggs while she spoke.

  “A lamb roasts on a spit all day long, and the women bring their favorite dishes.” Elena poured a cupful of flour into the bowl. “Men toast the bride and groom, wishing them happiness and health and many babies.” She poured in another cupful and looked into the bowl while her cousin stirred. “But the very best part happens after the feast.”

  The two girls looked at each other and grinned. “The dancing!” they said in unison.

  Diana could not help but smile. “And shall you dance with the men at the wedding?”

  “Oh no. Men and women do not dance together,” Elena said, her brows pinched and her head shaking as if the mere idea were the epitome of indecency. “The men leap and twist, and the women twirl gracefully. You shall see in just a few days.”

  “Oh, I do not think I’ll go to the wedding,” Diana said. “I do not know the bride and groom, and—”

  “Everybody will go, Missno. Every person for miles around,” Stella said. “Even children. Though, perhaps Sophia will not feel well enough to attend.” She added soft butter to the mix and continued stirring.

  Diana did not want to argue. The cousins continued to speak about the dancing and the wedding feast and the young men who would attend, but she knew she would not be there. She was a servant, even though the family had never made her feel any less than a treasured guest. And dancing in front of people she hardly knew was certainly out of the question. She did not know what to expect with Greek dancing, and though she had to admit to being a bit curious, it did not matter.

  She had never had occasion nor inclination to dance. An orphan was not presented at St. James’s court. And even if she had been “out in society,” she had no reason to attend a ball or assembly. The young ladies at the finishing school attended lessons with a dance master, but Diana had not and was resigned to the fact that such things were never to be part of her life. It was actually a relief, she thought to herself. Dancing seemed an activity fraught with opportunities for a misstep or embarrassment.

  “Oh, and I suppose Alexandros Metaxas will attend as well,” Elena said. Her lips were pursed in concentration as she tipped the bottle of vanilla into the bowl.

  Diana was grateful that Elena had not looked at her. The girl’s words had caught her off guard, and she was certain her expression was anything but schooled and polite. Her pulse pounded and warmth crept up her neck. “Oh, I had not even considered it.”

  “Of course he shall. And I imagine you will be happy to see your friend.” Elena smiled as she pushed the cork back into the bottle.

  Diana looked closely but saw only an innocent question in the girl’s eyes. “Yes, I suppose it will be nice to see him.” She hoped her remark sounded off-handed. And why should it not?

  Stella continued to stir. “He is indeed handsome, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.” Elena tipped her head and pulled her brows together. “But old.”

  Diana felt a laugh bubble up inside her throat. “Old? Mr. Metaxas cannot be above thirty.”

  The girls looked at each other and then at her with wrinkled noses, and she realized that nearly fifteen years separated him from the girls. They could think him old indeed.

  Diana turned her gaze back to the almonds, moving the knife up and down with slow motions to keep the nuts from skittering across the board. This was the second time she’d thought of Alexandros Metaxas today, and each time had left her feeling agitated and unsure. How had the mere mention of his name sent her heart racing? She counted each stroke as the knife crunched through the almonds. After a moment, the rhythm calmed her, and she was able to rein in her thoughts.

  “I do love a fall wedding,” Elena said, breaking the moment of silence. “There is always enough food, and the weather is perfect. Not too hot, nor too cold.”

  “Perhaps next fall, it shall be your turn.”

  “Stella!” Elena dropped the cup she was holding. Sugar spilled over the table.

  Diana and Elena brushed their hands across the table, sweeping it back into the sugar jar.

  Stella smiled. “You should not look so shocked. I have seen Spiros Sássaris stealing glances at you during church.”

  Elena continued sweeping
with her hand, even as a small smile curled her lips. “Perhaps he is simply thinking about something else and happens to look my direction.”

  “That must be it,” Stella said, taking the cup. She poured sugar into the bowl and slid her eyes to the side. “Although he does look a bit like a puppy, wishing for a morsel.”

  Elena giggled, followed by her cousin. Diana could not help but smile. How lovely to be young and worry free. She adored these girls and their easy friendship.

  “We are ready for the almonds now.”

  Stella and Diana watched as Elena finished mixing the sticky dough with her hands. She demonstrated how to break off a ball and roll it on the table, forming it into a half-moon shape, then place it on a baking stone.

  While the girls shaped the dough, Diana cleaned off the workspace. She washed the bowl and spoon, and returned the baking ingredients to their places in the kitchen and storage area. As she walked past the door, she heard a voice in the yard.

  She stepped out, surprised by the cool air after spending such a long time in the warm kitchen. After looking to see that Sophia still rested on the sofa, she turned her gaze to the road.

  The gypsy woman had returned. She stood at the gate, calling to the house.

  Diana hesitated. She was tempted to send the woman away and allow Sophia to rest.

  “Let her in,” Sophia said.

  Diana turned her head. She hadn’t realized Sophia was awake. “But . . .”

  “Do not worry; she won’t stay long.”

  Diana hurried to the gate, feeling ashamed that her reluctance had shown on her face. Truthfully, aside from wanting to ensure that Sophia rested, she had to admit, the woman unnerved her.

  Diana opened the wooden gate, pulling it toward her as the woman walked through. “Good morning.”

  The woman’s gaze traveled over Diana, but she did not speak.

  “Sophia is in the garden.” Diana lifted her hand toward the side of the house, then followed the gypsy woman as she walked toward the sofa.

  Sophia waved and spoke kindly to the woman. She slid her feet from the sofa and invited the visitor to sit. “Diana, would you fetch some milk? And the bread from breakfast.”

  “Of course.” Diana hurried inside and returned with the items. When she stepped out, she saw the woman place a hand on Sophia’s swollen belly. She muttered some words that Diana didn’t think were Greek but sounded quiet and solemn. A prayer perhaps.

  Sophia thanked her.

  The woman sat back and accepted the cup and bread from Diana. She ate and drank quickly and with a few muttered words, departed, letting herself out of the gate and walking slowly down the road.

  Diana watched until she disappeared from sight.

  “She frightens you.”

  Diana turned her head and saw Sophia watching her. “I learned to beware of people I do not know. London can be a dangerous place, and desperation can cause people to do things they should not.”

  Sophia nodded, patting the space next to her in an invitation. “I understand. But Miri is harmless.”

  Diana perched on the edge of the sofa, not wishing to jostle Sophia. “I just want to make sure you and the children are safe.”

  “You care about them. I can see it in how you treat them—us.”

  Diana smiled. “I do.”

  “You must miss your family, your own home, but I do not know what we would do without your help. For this, I am grateful.”

  Diana patted Sophia’s hand. Her heart felt full, and she swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She did love this family, especially Elena. She did not correct Sophia or reveal the truth of her circumstance. If Petrobey were to discover that nobody was coming with a ransom, she did not know what would happen. Would she be turned out and end up wandering from house to house, begging for food? Where would she go? She could not survive in the mountains around the town. “Can I bring you something to eat?” She hoped to change the subject.

  “Perhaps in an hour. I am going to sleep a bit longer.”

  She helped Sophia lift her feet back onto the sofa and arranged her pillows. Sophia lay back and closed her eyes.

  Diana paused, brushing a lock of hair from the young mother’s forehead. “Rest easy, Sophia.” She whispered the words in English; her heart was too full for anything else.

  Once the baking was finished, Elena and Stella insisted that Diana accompany them to deliver the cookies to the Michalakiáni home. They carried the trays through the streets, and the girls stopped often to visit with neighbors.

  “Calantha will be a beautiful bride,” Elena said upon the return trip.

  “Yes. Socrates Grigorakiáni is very lucky,” Stella said wisely.

  Diana smiled, recognizing their mothers’ mannerisms in the way the girls spoke.

  “I cannot wait to see her perform the Bride’s Dance.” Elena sighed. “She is so elega—” Her words cut off when they saw Father Yianni leaving Spiros Sássaris’s house. The priest stood on the doorstep and crossed himself, then walked slowly toward the garden gate with his head bowed.

  When he reached them, Elena and Stella kissed his hand.

  “Father, is Costas . . . ?” Elena motioned toward the house behind him.

  The priest heaved a heavy sigh. Beneath his graying beard, Diana saw his lip tremble. “Young Costas will not be in pain much longer, my child.” He crossed himself again, and Stella and Elena followed suit. The priest walked away with stooped shoulders as if he carried a weight.

  The excitement of the day seemed to evaporate, and even the air around them felt heavy. She glanced at Elena and saw the girl wiping tears from her cheeks. Stella’s eyes were wet as well.

  Diana slipped an arm through each of theirs as they walked back to the house.

  Chapter 11

  Alex awoke to a heavy silence. The air was cool and comfortable and smelled earthy. Somewhere, he heard water dripping, and the sound lulled him into a daze. He was tempted to return to sleep; his legs practically begged him to remain lying down. But the light at the cave entrance showed that dawn was long past.

  Hearing a snore, he turned his head and saw that Dino and Themis still slept. A grin of satisfaction lifted his lips. He was not the last to wake.

  A throat cleared.

  Alex sat up, stretching out his legs with a grimace, and squinted into the shadows near the cave entrance. Private Gerontis stepped into the light. “Kapetan Karahalios sends his greeting and invites you to help yourself to breakfast.” He waved his hand toward the table, where Alex saw three bowls covered with a cloth.

  “Thank you.”

  “He will join you soon.” The private left the cave, presumably to inform the kapetan that his guest was awake.

  Alex rose, stifling a groan at the aches in his body. He could not fully stand in the cave, but he walked, hunched over, to the table. When he lifted the cloth, he saw the wooden bowls were filled with watery porridge. The fact that it was still a bit warm gave him hope that the kapetan had not eaten too much earlier.

  In the dim light, he studied his surroundings. The area of the cave was small, perhaps the size of a cozy parlor. Near the table, he saw mismatched seats arranged in a circle. Some were nothing but rocks, others tree stumps, a few cushions he thought had likely come from raids on Turkish camps, and even a velvet-upholstered chair that looked like it belonged in a fine lady’s drawing room. He assumed this was where the kapetan held meetings of his officers. A low opening on one side of the cave led into the darkness, and Alex wondered just how far it went.

  Once he’d eaten the porridge, he walked around the space, hoping to learn as much about the kapetan as he could before actually meeting him. Any small bit of information could be an advantage.

  Kitchen implements were stacked tidily in a corner. A few trunks lined the wall behind the table. A colorful ikon of St. George slaying a dragon and an elaborate gold cross adorned an alcove. A hearth was cut into the rock, and bending over to look inside, Alex saw a small tunnel
burrowed upward to allow smoke to escape. A flat stone jutted out above the fireplace, and he studied the objects atop it. He examined an intricately carved kilij with a golden, jewel-encrusted sheath. Alex assumed the saber was a war trophy. Perhaps it symbolized the defeat of a Yayabasi or other high-ranking Turkish officer.

  Beside the sword were rolls of parchment, likely maps, and an old, leather-bound book. Alex lifted the book and opened the worn cover. Aesop’s Fables. The quality of the book surprised him—detailed illustrations on thick paper. The Greek lettering was uniform, indicating a superior printer. He was studying a drawing of the tortoise and the hare when he heard footsteps on the cave floor.

  A man stepped through the entrance followed by Private Gerontis. “Welcome to Logastras Camp.”

  Alex closed the book. “Alexandros Metaxas.”

  “Kapetan Ionnis Karahalios.”

  Alex noticed a slur to his words. He appraised the warrior quickly. The kapetan’s thick hair hung past his shoulders, graying at the temples. His face bore a wide mustache, and the skin was weathered and lined from years of exposure to sun and wind. His dark eyes were calculating as he studied Alex in the dim light of the cave. Even though he was not a tall man, his broad shoulders and straight back left no doubt that he was a man with confidence.

  “Thank you for meeting me,” Alex said.

  Kapetan Karahalios inclined his head, and in the light from the cave opening, Alex saw his jaw muscles quiver, and the lines around his eyes deepen. His lips pressed together. Was the kapetan in pain? “I know why you are here.”

  “I do not imagine a wise kapetan would permit strangers to a hidden camp without an understanding of their intentions.”

  “Ah, flattery. You’ll find I’m not as easily taken in as the crow in the fable.” Kapetan Karahalios waved his hand toward the book in Alex’s hand.

  Alex raised a brow. The man was direct. “Perhaps I should get to the point, then, Kapetan.”

  Another snore sounded, and both glanced toward the far side of the cave. Themis continued to sleep, but Dino sat in the shadows, watching the interaction.