CHAPTER 17

A NEW FACE

The warm glow of the sun shimmering through the window kissed my cheeks. The room I awoke in was strange and unfamiliar. Instantly sitting up, I recalled what had happened last night. Dear God, reality struck me with a hard blow to the stomach. My "only a few minutes," of sleep had turned to hours, and now, judging by the sun glistening blindly on the new fallen snow, it was well past noon. I had overslept and I was afraid I would pay dearly. However, something seemed different, altered. I dropped my hands into my lap, but when I did, they landed in the soft veil of green velvet. That was it! When I decided to lie down on the bed last night, I did not bother to remove the duvet - I just slept atop of it, but this morning I was buried beneath it.

The spot next to me, the spot where Ichabod slept, was empty, but definitely disturbed. I groaned with the realization that Ichabod knew that I had decided to sleep on his bed and such a thing was unheard of – an irrational act of immodesty. Perhaps Ichabod would understand if I explained things to him, I thought. But whatever happened, or would happen, I couldn't dwell on. Being it noon, I was dreadfully behind on my chores, and my first priority was to fulfill to the work I had been hired for.

When I entered the hallway, I listened closely for any noise that would reveal Ichabod's whereabouts. Not that it mattered, but as of now, I wanted simply to avoid him. Satisfied when I heard nothing, I scurried to my room and shut the door. Hastily, I shed my nightdress and donned appropriately for the day. I jogged down the stairs, my heart pounding, pulling my hair into a jumbled bun. The house was empty, as I had hoped. Ichabod was either absorbed in his laboratory or had gone out and this was a relief to me. Entering the kitchen, a single cup of tea resting on the counter caught my eye. When I neared, I saw that it was brimming with chamomile tea and raspberries. Placing my hand against the cool china, I could tell it had been sitting out for the better part of the morning. This bemused me to some degree because I was the only one of the household who liked the concoction of raspberries and chamomile, and Ichabod had obviously set the cup out for me. But why on earth would he do that? I was surprised he was still alive after the heart attack he must have endured waking up next to me. I left the cup where it was as if I were afraid to touch it. Now wasn't the time to play detective anyway, I had things to do.

When I went to the kitchen hearth to check how much kindling I would need to supply the wood box, I was surprised to find it full. Odd because I had not refilled it last night and it was typically empty come the next morning. I checked the sitting room's wood box and like the kitchen, it was filled – as was the library's, and the master suite. I came to the conclusion that because only two people occupied the manor now we did not go through as much timber. I did not allow myself to think rationally about this because I knew that the number of people in the house had no effect on how much wood was fed to the fires, but I was satisfied with my assumption anyway.

Next, I went to the sewing room to launder the week's clothes, press, and mend what garments needed. When I opened the door, my face transformed into a pasty white. Sitting folded and pressed on top the sewing table was a pile of clothing. As I had remembered, I had this room completely skewed with clothing that needed to be tended to. Examining the pile, I noticed the clothing that needed to be laundered, washed, the garments that needed to be pressed, stiff and neat, and even the mending was an act of perfection. Since Katrina was gone, I only knew of one man that was capable of such feminine skills and that man was Ichabod. I didn't know if I the feelings I felt at this moment were of gratitude or irritation, but I went and returned the clothing to their rightful places and decided that I was in a mood for a short equestrian venture. Perhaps a short ride would ease my mind, and at the very least give me an opportunity to leave the house.

Pulling on my gloves and winter cloak, I stepped into the warm sunlight and took in a breath of fresh air. I was already beginning to relax and pleased that I had thought of going for a ride on such a perfect day. It was unusually warm for a day in early December and my boots crunched in the snow as I made my way to the stables.

"Good Afternoon, Miss Olsen." John, the stable hand addressed me in his crisp English accent.

He had immigrated from Welshire a few months ago, coming to New England looking for new and better opportunities in America. If being the stable hand for the wealthiest family in the isolated town of Sleepy Hollow was his idea of a better opportunity, then he had greatly succeeded.

A young man of twenty-two, he stood about average height with a muscular build from many years of hard labor. He had dark blonde shoulder-length hair, slightly bleached by the sun, that he usually kept tied to the base of his neck, and almond-shaped hazel eyes beneath broad, yet appealing brows. His square jaw suited his frame and he had full lips that seemed to be set in a permanent smile.

Being extremely attractive, holding an innocent charm, and labeled as a hopeless romantic, there was no doubt that he was the town's "most eligible bachelor." He definitely had the few town belles' undivided attentions, but either he was completely oblivious to the fact or he didn't care. I was quite certain it was the later. However, being able to choose any girl he wanted in this town, he had to choose the only one who had no interest in him – me. Of course, I was attracted to him, but in my mind my heart belonged to someone else. I flirted with him in the amount considered proper, but that was only to satisfy the town gossips that I held no interest in Ichabod and was just like every other giddy girl in the small town.

"Afternoon, John," I said smiling. "Can you believe this weather?"

He rose from the position where he had laid fixing a broken axis on one of the finer carriages and examined the weather as if for the first time that day. "No, it's quite nice for a ride today." He said panting and rolling up his sleeves. His cheeks were a bright red from being out in the colder weather for too long. "Would you like me to saddle up Ole' Jack for you?"

"I'm quite sure I can manage," I replied almost irritated. I couldn't understand why men couldn't accept the fact that women could saddle, or handle horses for that matter, as well or better then they could. That was just the way things were, I supposed. "Is there any particular reason why you're fixing that carriage axis on a winter day?" I asked curiously wanting to know if there was a specific reason for it or he just didn't want to procrastinate it any longer.

"You haven't heard?" he asked rather surprised. I stared at him blankly. "Master Crane has to go to Beacon Friday evening," he told me like I was the last person in the world to hear about this affair. I didn't recall Ichabod mentioning anything about it, but perhaps it just slipped my mind.

"It's news to me. Did he say what for?" I questioned.

John shook his head. "He did not. I was only informed that I was to mend this axle."

"I see," I said. "Well then, it's best I get to that ride." John nodded and returned to his work as I disappeared between the barn doors.

I returned from my ride a little past dark. John was just finishing up the evening feeding when I returned Jack to his stall. The ride was just what I had needed and I rode along the banks of the river cherishing the melodious rush of the water that was so soothing to my mind. To my surprise, I didn't think about Ichabod, last night, or what his affair might be in Beacon. I didn't know exactly what I thought of, but I knew the river worked it's magic for I came back refreshed and in a wonderful mood that had me humming as I unsaddled Jack.

"How was your ride?" John asked taking the saddle over his arm.

"Oh, just marvelous," I said between humming and planted a conservative peck on his cheek. I didn't kiss John because I felt something for him, but because I was in such a mood I would have kissed anyone who would have asked me that question. Nevertheless, John's eyes flared with a passionate spark worth more than just a peck, and he quickly returned the saddle to the tack room. I chuckled lightly to myself as I made my way towards the house.

Ichabod emerged from the library when the creaking of the front door announced my presence. My nose and cheeks were crimson from the nipping of the cold winter air, and I shed my gloves from my hands rubbing them together hoping to warm them quicker.

"Melanie." Ichabod acknowledged me with a smile as I placed my gloves on the foyer table. I looked down at my feet extremely embarrassed realizing that it was the first time we've seen each other since last night. My glorious mood instantly dampened. Ichabod sensed this and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don't fret about it, Melanie." I looked up, swallowing the lump in my throat and smiled shakily. "You enjoyed your ride?" he asked changing subject and I relaxed thankful for his attempt to settle the awkwardness that hung in the room.

"Very much so," I answered as we made our way to the parlor. I sat on the davenport close the fire and let heat of the fire's breath warm my skin. Ichabod sank in an armchair across from me, but said nothing. "You're going to Beacon Friday?" I asked only to kill the silence that seemed to have swallowed the house save for the crackling of the flames.

"Yes," he said. "I was just about to talk to you about that."

"To me?" I asked baffled, still rubbing my hands together even though they were already quite warm.

He nodded. "It's a Christmas celebration two weeks before Christmas, believe it or not, hosted by a wealthy family with whom Katrina and I have done agricultural business in the past couple of years. I'm not really keen on going, but I suppose it's mandatory since I've already obliged to it." He paused and took a breath. "And since Katrina has prior obligations, I was hoping you'd agree to accompany me?"

"Me?" I stared at him in disbelief.

"You."

"I don't…I don't know." I stuttered. "I think it most inappropriate…"

"I don't," he differed before I could finish. "I ask you to accompany as a guest of my household, as a friend, not as my wife." He grinned teasingly.

"And I suppose I'll have to agree to go with you to reimburse your helpful deeds towards me this morning?" I smiled knowingly.

"That wasn't what I had in mind, but now that you mention it, it would be most polite of you."

I sighed. "Very well."