“He was kind of vague about that as well,” Briar said. “You sound like he’ll be returning soon. Doesn’t it take years to make your fortune?”
“Ha!” Mrs. Prince laughed. “Being mysterious, was he? Likely trying to keep your interest, Briar. I’ll probably embarrass him for saying this, but he’s taken a fancy to you lately. He’s always favored you over his other playmates, but now that he’s looking toward the future, I suspect a lot of what he is doing has to do with you. You’re turning seventeen soon, aren’t you?”
Briar nodded but didn’t say anything. Mrs. Prince was confusing her. Briar was still an Irish spinner girl, and not who Mrs. Prince wanted her son involved with, wasn’t she? What had changed Mrs. Prince’s mind?
“Seventeen is such a stable age. Once you reach seventeen, you can breathe a sigh of relief and look forward to your future, don’t you think?”
“Darlin’, you’ve gone and embarrassed the girl.” Mr. Prince cleared his throat. “Henry wasn’t seeking his fortune. He won’t need years to do what he is doing. Besides, I think he’d be afraid to leave you unaccompanied for too long.”
“Look who’s doing the embarrassing now?” Mrs. Prince put her arm around Briar. “Don’t mind us, but we’re missing Henry, and you’re the next best thing.”
Again, Briar was confused. They’d never shown such concern over her before.
Mrs. Prince pointed to the cloth poking out of Briar’s pocket. “That’s a lovely piece of silk,” she said. She cocked her head as if examining it closer. “Did Henry give that to you?”
Briar shook her head. “No. No, I got this from a peddler in town.”
“Oh. May I see it? We used to have one that color. Did you buy anything else from the peddler?”
Reluctantly, Briar slipped out the silk handkerchief, careful to shake free the whorl first, and handed it to Mrs. Prince. Briar hadn’t the chance to examine the silk piece, since her attention had always been on the spindle itself. “No, I didn’t buy anything else from him.” It was all a gift.
Mrs. Prince grasped the silk piece by two corners and held it up to the light. “Oh. How lovely,” she said. “Darling, look at this.”
Mr. Prince glanced over. “Nice,” he said, turning his attention back to the road.
Briar held back a laugh. Mr. Prince obviously had not the care for pretty cloth as his wife had.
“No, honey, look at it,” Mrs. Prince insisted, her voice tense. “You can see the faint pattern in the silk when you hold it up. It’s certainly unique. Not made in the mills here, that’s for sure.”
Again Mr. Prince glanced over, but then he took a second look. “Briar,” he said. “Do you remember which peddler you got that from?”
“He was passing through. Said he knew you, though.” Briar bounced in her seat as the wagon hit a rut.
Mr. Prince was taken aback. “Knew me, you say?”
“Of your family, anyway. But lots of people in the valley know your family, since you’ve been here so long.”
The Princes exchanged a glance.
“Was he a seller of cloth?”
“No, he had all sorts of items. Pots and pans, a wash bin, a crate full of candles, and some, uh, sewing things.”
“When was this?” Mr. Prince pressed on.
“A few weeks back, not long after Henry left. I don’t know if he had any more of these.”
“The silk is lovely.” Mrs. Prince spread it out over her heavy cotton skirt. “Imagine if this was used to line a bassinet. What a royal baby that would be.”
Briar squirmed. She hoped Mrs. Prince wasn’t hinting that Briar and Henry should…
Mrs. Prince handed the cloth back, clasping Briar’s hand with both of hers. “I think you should keep it always in your pocket. It would be a nice comfort to feel it and know that there are such pretty things in this world. I know working in the mills can be hard.”
“Yes. It can. But Henry made it fun. I miss that.”
Mrs. Prince looked off to the forest. “Henry does enjoy life. I hope he’s okay.” She smiled tentatively at her husband. “He sounded fine in that one letter, didn’t he, honey? Told us not to worry.”
Mr. Prince held his wife’s gaze. “That is what he said. Hard not to worry, though, isn’t it?”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Briar, Briar!” the boys called when they heard the wagon jingle into their yard. They ran from the back of the house, their fresh faces grinning. “We got a goat,” Benny said.
“A goat?” Briar jumped down. Fresh milk. But how could they afford a goat?
“An’ a chicken!” said Jack.
Eggs. She touched the coins at the bottom of her pocket. Her meager contribution to their upkeep wasn’t enough for such luxuries. Fanny must be spending her own money on them. The boys would be crushed when Nanny came back and the animals had to go.
Pansy came around the corner, hugging the chicken to her thin body like it was a doll. Oh dear.