"No, nothing, thank you," he replied, his tone clipped.
"Well, good night, Alexander."
"Good night."
Sarah had no idea what was troubling him but she was too exhausted and overwrought to spend any more time trying to decipher his moodiness.
Her whole body was trembling, and the hot brand of his fingers on her abdomen and most secret space continued to burn even when she crushed her legs together with a frustrated sob and thrust her hips into the mattress hoping the chafing of the sheets would wipe away the memory of his touch.
It only brought more confusion as she felt herself tremble and writhe, and finally fall asleep fitfully. She gave up on further slumber at seven, feeling as though her flesh were on fire.
By the time she got downstairs, her two servants and house guest had already begun washing and hanging out the wool, and she had no chance to speak with Alexander privately about the incident in her room.
Even when she suggested a break, her wishes were thwarted, for he informed her that he had already breakfasted.
In any event, what could she say to him over their eggs and bacon? They had talked of being honest with each other, but it was not exactly something she could blurt out and ask him.
Besides, she was fairly sure she knew the answer. Her body had been stroked to a fever pitch, and not by her own hands, of that she was sure. She had never felt such torrid heat between her thighs before. Only his touch could possibly have evoked so many thrilling new sensations.
Alexander worked like an African slave all day, never resting, never still. She could not understand the change in him. It was as if he were trying to flee from something. What it could be she had no idea. Had he had more nightmares? More memories? Had he recalled something about a wife and family which made him so standoffish?
Again, she could only guess. There was no privacy to talk of such things, not in front of the servants. Besides, every time she tried to initiate a conversation with him, he changed the subject to something neutral like the weather, or the latest news Caleb had heard in the village.
When the wool was dry, she showed Alexander how to card, and the four of them worked companionably in the bright sunshine, shaded by the trees, and kept cool by a light breeze.
He chatted amiably with Jenny and Caleb, who obviously thought the world of him. They did not ask any probing questions, but kept him entertained with descriptions of the old vicarage and the surrounding countryside.
"The building was put up in my grandfather's time. Good stone, that. And the number of rooms. It was like a mansion in my day. It's considered small now, but in its time it was a fine place, with a vicar who had lots of children running a lively parish. But a lot of the young people have gone off to look for work, and to war, of course.
"Sheep are not as much of a good business as they once were. Ever since the olden days, the Speaker of the House of Parliament has sat on a woolsack to show that was where England got its power. But times are different now," Caleb said with a sad shake of his head.
One of the sheep looked at them quizzically and bleated.
Sarah laughed and told Alexander he was being stared at.
"I can't imagine anything less regal looking than a sheep," Alexander said with a grin. "But yes, they were once king of the hills."
"Change can be good," Caleb said thoughtfully, "But this damned war--" He shot a look at Alexander and lapsed back into silence.
"Indeed," he sighed.
"Your pardon, Sir, I didn't mean--"
"It's all right, Caleb. I know that. I can't be offended by you speaking the truth, now can I." He withdrew into himself again visibly, Sarah observed with a pang, though he never moved a muscle.
She wished she could penetrate his silence. But short of starting a quarrel right in front of the others, she had no choice but to press on with her work silently.
Once they had carded a goodly amount of washed and dried wool, it was time to try the spinning. Sarah discovered that he had an excellent feel for the whole process.
"That's very good. You have a natural talent. We'll be finished in no time at this rate."
"Another day or two, anyroad," Caleb guessed, carding until his old gnarled hands looked aching.
They broke off their labors as the sun went down, and Caleb and Jenny said good night and departed.
Once alone with Alexander, she hoped to draw him out at last, but he made heavy weather of it. She noticed he had been good company with Caleb and Jenny for most of the day, so after a relatively silent supper, she was worried.
She became even more concerned when she brought out the chessboard that night and asked him if he was interested in playing, and he seemed tongue-tied.