“They beat you?” the man asked. Some of the tension in his face had lifted, but his daughter remained the kinder of the two.
“No, nothing like that,” I said. He could not see the bandage on my wrist, but surely his daughter could. Perhaps I could win their sympathy and subsequently their aid. It never hurt to be pitied. “I escaped such a place. A school, Pitney; perhaps you have heard of it? They favored mortification of the flesh as a means of punishment. I hoped never to return, but now I find myself utterly lost.”
The blind man stood, and, hand still clutched in the dog’s fur, made his way to the fire to stoke it. “Will they come looking for you?”
“Who?” I asked softly.
“Take your pick, dear,” he said with a dark laugh. “The school or the folk at Coldthistle. You can stay the night and collect yourself, but I’ll not endanger Joanna nor my flock.”
“Father, she is half dead with fright and injured! You will be in danger from me if you turn out this poor lamb now,” the girl said. She shot a cross look at his back.
“I can make myself useful,” I murmured. “There is no need for charity.”
“Nonsense! Of course there is a need!” Joanna jumped up again and hurried over to her father, touching a small hand to his shoulder. “He is a good man, my father, only he worries that people take advantage when you intervene in their lives. Indeed, he was softer once and can be again; it simply requires a nudge or two from me.”
“That’s enough of your nudging,” he grumbled, but when he laughed it was lighter. Sweeter. I could not place their accents. Certainly they were not locals. A simple shepherd’s family would speak with a stronger Yorkshire lilt. “I can speak for myself, child, and speak I will.”
Sighing, but only half seriously, he turned at the hip and looked in my direction. For a moment, it felt as if he could really see me sitting there. “You can stay, but I must wonder—are you really all alone in this world? Have you nowhere to go? No family? No friends?”
Lee’s name stuck like a burr in my throat.
I stared down into my ale again, and Joanna drifted from the fireside to my own, taking my good wrist lightly and squeezing. “There, now, no need to be shy. It was an honest question, and not meant in malice I’m sure.”
“My grandparents bought my place at that infernal school so they could be rid of me. There was . . . one person who was kind to me, I know not if I could call him a friend . . .” You could, but then the guilt would be too much. “But there is little he can do now, and I am on my own. I do not seek pity. It is a fact that does not frighten me.”
“Oh, but it should.” The shepherd squinted at me, and I froze, aware suddenly that I was blindly trusting these folk when such mistakes in the past had cost me dearly. Had not Coldthistle seemed like a blessing at first, too? I pulled my hand from the girl’s grip, but the man simply smiled at us. “A sheep far from the flock is vulnerable. Should be brought back in where it’s safe. A solitary life is a meal for wolves.”
“That is not our business, Father,” Joanna scolded softly. “And here, you cannot see, but she has a lovely gold pin! It could be bartered for passage, I’m sure. Surely it would get you as far as London and a modest room.”
I reached instinctively for the pin, closing my fist around it. “No, this pin has . . . It . . . Well, you see, it has sentimental value. I cannot be parted from it.”
“Joanna.” The man let go of the dog, turning and facing us directly. “Big Earl needs feeding. Take him out, will you? There’s a lamb’s knuckle in the smoking shed for him.”
He was deliberately sending her away, and I braced, knowing whatever came next would not be good. I eyed the door, ready to bolt, watching as the young woman pursed her lips in frustration and whistled, the dog snapping to attention and following her out the door. After it closed, I could hear her kicking aside the corpses of dead birds.
“I’ll go,” I volunteered, standing. “I’ve obviously trespassed on your kindness.”
“The offer to stay the night still stands, dear,” he said. He took a few careful steps toward me, finding the table and holding it for balance. “But we’ve not the space or means for another child here. I took Joanna in after her mother met her God, and I would never call her a burden, but this is a humble trade with humble earnings.” Then he paused and lowered his head, and again it felt as if he could regard me clearly through his blindness. “She said you wear a gold pin . . .”
“I do.”
“Describe it for me,” he said. “What sort of price would it fetch? We might be able to make a trade.”
“It’s gold, with a bit of filigree and a serpent symbol,” I told him. The ale was loosening my tongue now and dampening my wits. Even with a hazy mind, the inscription felt too strange to share. What would this old shepherd think of a lone, wandering girl with I am Wrath emblazoned on her one possession of value?
“Is that all, Louisa?”
“That is the pin exactly,” I lied more or less steadily. “But I cannot and will not give it to you.”
The shepherd let out a short bark of a laugh. “You think me greedy.”
“Not at all,” I replied. I touched the pin again, holding it, feeling its unnatural inner warmth. “You may love Joanna, but she is a burden. So am I. All young women of no fortune and no family are. Doubly so the poor, family-less girl who is changeable and ill-humored.”
“Heavens, my dear, you are too harsh on yourself,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down slowly.
I set my jaw, resentful of his pity. “The harshness of a thing does not change its veracity.”
“Something weighs heavily upon you,” he said, closing his eyes. Again his face was soft and appealing, like a sun-kissed apple. With surprising deftness, he poured himself ale and then more for me. Gradually, I sat, too. The sound of Joanna’s voice and the flock’s bleating bled pleasantly through the walls. “Once, I had a mind to be a man of the clergy. Could always tell when a soul needed lifting. ’Tis not a gift any man should covet—sensing so much pain takes a heavy toll. A sheep far from the flock is vulnerable, and this loneliness has made you cold.”
We were both quiet for a long time, and I could feel the ale muddling my thoughts, making my tongue even bolder than usual. “It was careless parents and hard-hearted teachers that made me cold, and I’ll be Queen of England before I shoulder the blame for their cruelty.”
The shepherd nodded, adjusting his woolen cap. “You mentioned a friend, and someone gave you that fine gold pin. Sentimental value. You have folk, I think. Even if you don’t want them, might they want you?”