“I don’tgiveyou anything, Li-Na. Ipayyou. You’refree.”
There was that word again, but it only meant something if she had somewhere to go. She didn’t. In London she had food, shelter, and a job. She wouldn’t have that even in China. And she had no idea what waited for her in Cornwall.
“You’re going,” Bessie said, her voice firm. “If you can’t trust him, trust me.”
Li-Na felt her head dip in a resignation. Inside, her squiggles finally burned out, turning into ash that coated her tongue and deadened her belly. If she was so free, then how could Bessie order her to leave?
Chapter Three
She appeared toDaniel like a lump of fine loam, which is to say, Miss Lina looked like dirt. She wore a dust-covered dark cloak, a tattered widow’s veil, and he heard the heavy clomp of men’s boots as she descended from the mail coach. He knew her immediately, of course. Despite the way she seemed to drop from the carriage onto the ground. He knew she was taller than she appeared, but she had chosen to be small now. Her hands were hidden, her valise was minimal, and she moved as little as possible as she looked around the inn yard.
And yet as he looked at her formless shape, all he saw was potential. He knew the things she painted in the morning when she thought no one cared. He knew because Mrs. Dove-Lyon had shown him then. She’d also explained that Miss Lina had come to England on a slave ship, been freed by Mrs. Dove-Lyon, and had worked as a bookkeeper ever since.
A bookkeeper! When she could paint such amazing things? It was criminal, and so he vowed to bring her here where she would have sun, good food, and room to grow.
He stood as was his wont, with his hands in his pockets and his face shielded from the sun, though it was nearing dusk. He didn’t move from his place next to his horse in the corner of the posting inn. He was there to see that his housekeeper found Miss Lina, greeted her respectfully, then escorted her to his home. He employed Mrs. Hocking because she had a good eye for what he wanted disturbed and what he did not. She also made excellent cream tea and hevva cake. He’d sent her to pick up Miss Lina because Mrs. Hocking was the only female in his household and therefore a better choice than his gardener. Unfortunately, he was mistaken in that.
Mrs. Hocking was busy eating her dinner from a basket meant for Miss Lina. She hastened to finish it as the other passengers scattered, leaving the lady to stand awkwardly in the center of the yard. His housekeeper finished her food, cleaned up the crumbs on her dress, then hopped down from the cart seat.
“You Miss Lina?” she called, her voice loud enough to be heard throughout the courtyard.
His new bookkeeper turned at the call. If she said anything, he couldn’t hear it.
“A’right. Toss yer things in there.” Mrs. Hocking pointed to the back of the cart. It was not the proper way to handle a lady, but then Mrs. Hocking wasn’t a London servant who knew how to greet a woman. She was all business which—up until now—hadn’t bothered him.
Fortunately, Miss Lina didn’t seem to mind. She set her bag in the back of the cart, then stood there with her head bowed and her hands hidden away.
“Best use the privy ’ere,” continued his housekeeper. “His lordship got the only good pot and it’s a long haul taking yer piss out at the castle.”
Daniel frowned. What a thing to say! And it wasn’t true, was it? But what did he know about his servants’ privy habits?
Miss Lina hesitated, probably because she didn’t understand Mrs. Hocking’s heavy accent.
“Go on, then! Right over there.” Mrs. Hocking stabbed her fingers in the appropriate direction, but in the end, she had to lead the way. Miss Lina followed, still looking like formless dirt somehow floating across the innyard. Daniel waited, his misgivings gnawing at him. Should he have picked the girl up himself? Mrs. Dove-Lyon had told him Miss Lina was skittish around men, and it would be best if he had a woman to settle her in. How a woman who worked in a gaming hell could be skittish around men was beyond his understanding. Either way, he’d selected Mrs. Hocking and now his housekeeper was eating more of Miss Lina’s food while the lady used the inn privy.
Hell.
He was about to take over when Miss Lina emerged. She glided back across the yard to where Mrs. Hocking was climbing into the cart. Miss Lina made it to the side and waited as if she didn’t know whether to climb onto the bench or into the back of the cart with the sack of last season’s potatoes Mrs. Hocking purchased at the inn. Eventually his housekeeper jerked her chin toward the bench.
“Up you go,” she said.
There was a moment’s hesitation and no wonder. Miss Lina wore a great deal of fabric. She had to gather her skirts as she climbed. Eventually she managed it while Daniel admired the flash of shapely calf. Then he watched Mrs. Hocking shove the half empty basket into Miss Lina’s lap before clucking at the mule that drew the cart. A moment later, the animal started plodding his way to the castle.
Daniel watched them go, frowning as he mounted his own horse. It would take them the better part of an hour to get to his crumbling front door. He’d make it in a fraction that time if that were his destination. Unfortunately, he had work to finish in the opposite direction. It had been a wet spring, but summer was drying things out quickly. He had one last wheat field to walk, checking for areas that needed water, and then he would go greet his guest.
That was his plan, except nothing ever went according to plan. There were dry patches in his tenant’s field, so he helped carry water as needed. That was backbreaking work that he did alone because his tenant Bob Mellin was laid up with a broken leg. Truth be told, Bob Mellin was often laid up. The man was a drunken sot, but his wife and two children deserved better, so Daniel helped when he could.
Didn’t make it easier, though, when he heard the bastard cursing his wife and kids from his bed while Daniel kicked the mud off his boots from doing the man’s work. Bob Mellin was a waste of a human being.
“Hello, Anne,” he called out as he knocked on the open cottage door. “How are you doing today?”
Anne rushed out from her husband’s bedroom. “Oh, my lord! I didn’t see you there. Bob’s much better now. No more shaking, but he’s weak as a kitten.”
He hadn’t asked about Anne’s husband, but he took the information with a grim nod. “Not a drop of ale or beer for him, remember? Clean water and your good cooking. That’s all.”
She winced as she picked up her youngest child to keep him from crawling into the fire. “I know you said that, my lord, but—”
“No buts. That’s my rule. If you want my help with the fields, then he can’t get a drop.” He leaned over and checked on the older boy’s chalkboard. There was a great deal of doodling on the slate, but also the correct answers to several mathematics problems he’d posed the day before. Little Jory was smart, and right now he was playing with several stones and sticks that he arranged on the floor. “What are you doing there?” he asked the child, though he had a good guess what it was.