Thoughts

So I find myself wondering, Katherine thought to herself, nibbling a fingertip. It was fridgidly cold outside and she had donned her fur wrapper with its soft, lined hood, coat, thickest gloves, and muff to go outside for a short walk. One of the new maids had gone to get her coat to go with her and the look on the poor girls face had spoken volumes that she was quite uninterested in leaving the warmth of the hotel. Nonetheless, Katherine could not walk alone and she was close to stir crazy being trapped in the lavish rooms that Neecy had procured for she and Ezekiel while their home was being constructed. Ezekiel had been called to her father and had spent most of the day with him at the Diogenes club. She had no idea of what her father wanted with her husband. Knowing her father, it was merely to get to know Ezekiel and get his measure, or even more, debrief him on the Fitzhugh's Christmas party in details that he would never ask of his daughter. Memories of that party still made her cheeks color and made a wry smile slip over her lips.

Nonetheless, she had all intentions of not ever missing one.

She gave the maid a warm smile once the girl came back, only to earn a strained smile in return. Even though she was sympathetic, she led her down the stairs and out the door where the cold took her breath away, the air steaming as she almost laughed at the sense of freedom that being outside gave her. It was, she reflected, a bad thing to have had the adventure on the Continent. England and her life in London seemed drab, a poor substitution for the world that waited outside. She understood now how her father had stayed gone so much during her childhood, found that she did not resent his absences as much as she once did. The Colonel was a man of action, of adventure, and for better or worse, Katherine had inherited that from him. She could only hope that she and Ezekiel could make quick work of their business in London. She was rabid to leave again, to venture outside the borders of England and travel.

Excalibur still called to Ezekiel. Ever so often, when they touched at night or she fell asleep in his arms, she would get the random picture, of a sword plain but burning with holy fire or a sword, ornate and alive with thoughts alien and noble. Dream or vision, she was never certain. But she could feel the need and call, the longing in his soul as Ezekiel's fingers stretched to grasp it, to take it from the angel that held it impassively for him.

A gust of wind played with the air, trying to cut through the thickness of her furs and the many layers of her skirt. It would take the maid an annoying bit of time to beat the snow and ice off her skirts and hem but Katherine was determined to walk until her feet went numb. She was exhausted from writing letters and cards, driven nearly mad from the humdrum of a ladies life. Sadif, there was no place to meet Sadif, no place to practice her martial arts, no room to do other than carefully fence with Ezekiel.

She stole a glance at the stalwart maid and felt a pang of conscience. If only she could walk alone and not torture the poor girl in the weather. The poor girl's wool coat and many scarfs were hardly the luxurious furs that Katherine had. That and the wool of her dress was no where the quality and thickness of Katherine's. She resolved to give the girl a farthing extra when they returned and give her one of her old winter dresses to rework for herself.

The muffling silence of the snow made it easy to think, to gather her fleeting thoughts and hold them long enough to ponder them. One such thought made its way to the fore, an amusing thought that she had nothing to validate or prove true. And Ezekiel would think her mad if she voiced it to him. You are the sword Excalibur, my love she thought and shook her head. He would think her mad. But she could see the Lord working so, honing Ezekiel from childhood to adulthood, testing him, his resolve, his piety, his strength, his will, working and forging him into a weapon of goodness and light. Not to wield the great sword, but instead to be the great sword, the extension of the Hand of God himself. The essence of honor and destroyer of Evil. She brushed a snowflake from her eyelashes and smiled gently.

It was not her place to question the Lord or even to guess His plans. Ezekiel would find his destiny no matter what. Nonetheless, she was certain what her destiny was and that was to be with Ezekiel. She bit her lip as another thought crossed her mind and she glanced again at the poor maid. Excalibur or Ezekiel, he would gently fuss at her for keeping the poor girl out in this weather. Spinning abruptly, she freed her hands from her muff and gave it to the girl, firmly turning her back to the hotel. Ezekiel may not be Excalibur, she thought as she pushed the girl back to the warmth and protection of the hotel, but he was an excellent teacher. There would be many faces and murmurs made when they reached the lobby, but the muff would keep the maid's fingers warmer than her thin gloves.

But Ezekiel would understand, both her leaving and her return and the maid's unusual aquisition on the journey. And that was why she loved him so. Lengthening her stride, she gathered the girl under the protection of an arm and hurried her back home.

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