“I’m sorry,” Rachel said with sincerity.
“What?” Beth sounded surprised. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. Besides, I may have lost in the father category, but me mom was a wonderful woman. Loving, and kind. She taught me to work hard and be kind to others. I don’t know how many times she said to me, ‘Never look down on others, Bethie, until ye’ve walked a mile in their shoes,’ and ‘Work hard, Bethie, and make yer own way. Don’t depend on some worthless man to do it. They’ll sore disappoint ye.’”
After a pause, Beth added, “She taught by example too. No one worked harder than me mom. We’d get home from market, and she’d start right into making the pies for the next day, even while making us dinner and such. After we ate, I’d help with making the filling for the penny pies while she concentrated on the pastry, but then she’d send us girls to bed while she worked well into the night. Come morning, Mom’d be up before all of us, firing the stove and starting in baking the pies we’d made the night before.
“That was the secret to why her pies were so popular,” Beth assured her. “Others baked them the night before, putting the first batch in while they made the second batch and so on, so they were already a day old by the time they got to market. But Mom wouldn’t do that. She baked them all that morning, so they’d still be warm and fresh when we got them to market.”
“When did she sleep?” Rachel asked with amazement.
“Truth is, I wondered that myself sometimes,” Beth admitted on a chuckle. “But there was a morning or two I caught her napping against the stove while the pies baked, so I know she did get some sleep.”
“What was the market like back then?” Rachel asked with interest. “Was it in an enclosed space, or—?”
“They were starting to build those big enclosed markets then, but Tottenham were still just stalls and stands on either side of the lane, and that were us,” Beth said.
Etienne shifted slightly, and for a moment, Scotty was able to see Beth. The fire had taken her hair too, but her head was already healed, and her beautiful red hair had grown back a quarter inch or more. Oddly enough, she looked lovely even without the long, rich red locks. Unlike his, her face was healed, and she looked adorable and somehow innocent and sweet as if the fire had burned her sins away.
“I used to love the market. I worked hard, but had friends there too, and on warm beautiful summer days it was great fun. However—” She paused, and he saw her grimace and give a shudder before Etienne shifted again, blocking her from view once more as she continued, “Winter was a different story. It was something awful then. So cold ye were sure yer toes and fingers’d fall off, and ye hardly sold anything anyway on those days. Those penny pies could be fresh from the oven, but by the time we got them to market they were frozen solid.”
“So,” Rachel asked, “when you grew up did you bake penny pies and sell them at market too? Like your mother?”
There was a brief silence, and Scotty found himself clenching his fingers as he waited for her response, and then she finally said, “Nay. The cholera took me ma and Little Ruthie when I was ten. I don’t know why I didn’t get it,” she added. “I ate the same food as them, drank the same drinks and went all the same places. I even nursed them when they fell ill, but never got it.” She paused briefly and then continued, “Unfortunately, while I’d helped with making the filling ere that, Ma never got around to teaching me to make the pastry. When they passed, I tried to take over making the pies, but . . .”
Scotty heard her give a small laugh before she admitted, “I fear ye could have hammered nails with me pies. The pastry was that hard. Course, the first day everyone was expecting me ma’s usual fine fare so bought up all me pretty pies right quick. They’d missed them while me ma and Ruthie were sick and I was nursing ’em. The second day I took pies to market, they must have thought that first day’s offerings were just a one-time mistake, or mayhap they were bought up by people who hadn’t bought any of the ones the day before, but most of the second day’s offerings sold too. But by the third day, I hardly sold any at all. I guess I was not made to be me mother.”
Scotty waited tensely then, expecting Rachel to ask what she’d done then, but the question never came. Instead, Etienne’s wife said, “You’re looking a bit pale, Beth. I think we should give you some more blood and let you sleep.”
“So are you,” Magnus murmured at Scotty’s side. “Are you in pain? Are the nanos starting into healing again?”
Scotty hesitated, but then nodded grimly. The pain had started several minutes ago, but he’d wanted to hear about Beth’s childhood. It hadn’t been what he’d expected. While he wasn’t surprised at the kind of father she’d had, what she’d said about her mother had been a revelation. In truth, it sounded like she had a childhood similar to his own in some ways. Oh, certainly, there had been a lot of differences. He was raised a laird’s heir, while she’d been the child of poor parents, scratching out a living. But Scotty had had a good and kind father and a vicious, mean whore for a mother, while Beth had had a good, kind mother and a vicious, violent drunkard for a father. They’d each had one good parent and one bad.
Scotty didn’t protest when Magnus urged him back to his room. He went quietly, his thoughts in turmoil.
“Should I leave you to rest?” Magnus asked as he ushered him into his room. “Or are you well enough to talk about what to do about Beth?”
“What do you mean, do about her?” Scotty asked with a frown.
“To protect her,” he explained. “This latest attack proves the one in Vancouver was not a one-off. Someone is out to get her.”
“The fire at the barn was an attack on Beth?” Scotty paused at the side of the bed and turned to face him, alarm rushing through him and briefly displacing the pain that had begun to eat at him.
“Of course! You do not know,” Magnus said, sounding irritated with himself. “Sit down and I’ll tell you what happened.”
Scotty hesitated, but then dropped to sit on the bed and waited.
It seemed to Beth that she barely drifted off to sleep when arguing voices brought her back awake. Scowling, she opened her eyes and glanced around the dark room. No one appeared to be there with her. The voices were coming from the hallway.
“I agree. Someone needs to watch her. But not you,” she heard Magnus say. “You need to heal, Scotty. You are a bloody mess at the moment. You will scare the girl half to death if you go in there looking like that.”