“Excuse me?” Briar stopped her search of the bedroom. After working all week, it took a while to get the sound of spinners and looms out of her ears. “Did you say ‘catch supper’?”
“Oh sure,” said Fanny. “Those little boys thought it’d be great fun. The girl, on the other hand, looked at me like I’d suddenly sprouted wings. She was so earnest I had to feel my back to check.” She patted her shoulders in emphasis, and chuckled awkwardly.
Briar raised her eyebrows. “Right.”
She forced her tired self outside to see what trouble the twins and their older sister had gotten into. She also needed a minute to process the strange disappearance of Nanny, not to mention the arrival of this…Fanny.
The twins were difficult to handle, playing tricks all week long. Their antics would tire any adult, especially one as old and cantankerous as Nanny. Briar frowned. Despite Nanny’s crusty nature, she loved them, or so Briar thought. It struck her now, that she’d hoped Nanny would grow to love the wee ones so much she’d agree to keep them past her deadline. Especially now that any hope Briar had to marry Wheeler this summer was gone.
Given that Nanny could be out right now finding homes for the children, Briar realized her backup plan had been no true plan at all. She’d have to do more than find piecework if she were to keep the children with her in Sunrise. There was no way she could earn enough at the mill to support them all. Not with her persnickety frame holding back her production, nor the company continuing to cut wages. People were calling the 1890s the Gilded Age, but for the operatives working in the factories, there wasn’t a glint of prosperity in sight.
She found nine-year-old Pansy at the edge of Nanny’s rented land, arms straight at her sides, tears running clean streaks down her cheeks, and staring into the patch of forest that climbed up and out of Sunrise Valley. When she saw Briar, her lips began to tremble and she toyed with one of her long braids.
“They don’t mind me, Bri. I tell them to mind me and they don’t. I tried to tell ’em that new lady didn’t really want them catching supper; she was just shooing them out of doors. But they told me they was going hunting. What can four-year-old boys hunt? They’re going to get theirselves killed.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “At first, I won’t care. I’ll feel bad about it later, but it’ll be their own faults.”
Poor Pansy. She took everything to heart. Those boys knew just how to get to her, too. “I’ll go find them. Do you want to come with me or go back in the house?”
Pansy looked warily at the house. “I don’t know. What happened to Nanny?”
“Did you ask Fanny?”
“Is that her name?” Pansy lowered her voice, even though they were far enough away from the cottage not to be overheard. “She didn’t tell us nothing, just started giving us food. Nanny walked out this afternoon to use the privy and then Fanny walked back in. Did you know she doesn’t make us wash up before eating? And she doesn’t make us wait for dinner, neither; we can eat something small if we’re hungry. But I made the boys wash up anyway ’cause I know Nanny would want us to even if she’s not here. That other lady’s not like our Nanny at all.” A tentative smile spread across her face, revealing she was cautiously optimistic.
Like Briar, she’d had too many changes in her young life and wasn’t too trusting. Their Nanny didn’t have a gentle touch or an imagination. She’d been hard on Pansy, who was a daydreamer, while letting the boys run free. Fanny might be a welcome change if first impressions proved correct.
“Nanny didn’t even tell you she was leaving?” Briar asked.
“That lady said Miss Prudence—that’s what she calls Nanny—was in an awful hurry and didn’t have time to take a breath. That lady said we were going to have some fun while Nanny was gone and the boys started jumping up and down on the beds, and that’s when she kicked them outside to catch our supper.”
“That lady’s name is Miss Fanny. And until Nanny comes back, we’ll have to do our best to make our new guardian feel at home.”
Pansy sighed. “You mean watch the twins.”
“Yes, watch the twins.”
A whoop to the right of the hedgerow sounded, and Briar set out into the forest to wrangle the boys. She found them kneeling on the ground, ten feet from the path that led to the backside of the Prince property, their strawberry blond heads together over a little bunny caught in a trap. How in the world?
“Benny! Jack! What are you doing to that innocent critter?”
They beamed up at her, cute little cherub faces that got them out of more scrapes than Briar cared to admit. Their matching grins and freckled noses were proud. All the Jennys had freckled faces, but the boys had them from top to bottom.
“Supper, Briar. We was hopin’ for a spring turkey,” Jack said, “but we caught him instead. He’ll do, won’t he?”