The two women, warmed by hot drinks from the gypsy wagons and carrying bags filled with ribbons and wares, entered the edge of the square. Lady Nora looked out upon the vibrant crowd with glee. “Isn’t it marvelous to see the birth of a new town?” she asked.
“I suppose, but why haven’t you shops in Riversbend?” Peggy asked as she looked past the carts and wagons to see empty storefronts that lined the square. “It doesn’t seem to be a new town. On the contrary, it seems as if many of the shopkeepers have left the town.”
Lady Nora nodded.
Peggy worried that if the town were struggling, or if vendors had chosen to leave, that it might not have been a pleasant or comfortable place for Adam to have lived. Had he been left to walk with his feet bare or in hole-filled shoes without a proper tradesman to care for the locals’ needs? The cobbler was barely competent, and while ribbons would not matter to a boy his age, Peggy wondered what else he might have gone without.
“The Viscount is building a new estate twenty miles from here, and he offered to help anyone from the village who wanted to move with him to start a new town nearer his residence—a bonus of two years income to begin. Several took the opportunity, and so we have a half town in each location and are working to expand the pair. Perhaps they shall meet in the middle,” Lady Nora said clapping her gloved hands together gleefully.
Peggy noted that the lady spoke as if she had taken an active role in the dealings herself. Therefore, she deduced, the lady must be affiliated with the baron or his family.
“Is the new tenant pleased with this situation here at Riversbend?”
“Tenant?” Her brow furrowed. “Oh, you mean Lord Belton? He isn’t a tenant. He’s the heir, and this will become his great house at least until he takes up the entail,” the lady explained. “It’s a significant investment and promises a substantial increase in the holdings, so I believe everyone involved, including the townsfolk and tenants, are quite pleased with the prospects, although the transition phase has required the patience of all the surrounding estates.”
“I can imagine,” Peggy mused. She well knew what it was like to try to work in a household that was understaffed. She could hardly fathom the struggles of a village without certain trades and supplies.
“At least Nash has me!” her companion grinned. “Heavens knows if we ladies left it to the men, we would have poulters and tobacconists, but he’d forget all about the milliner and modiste. Men,” she said, shaking her head.
Together, they laughed. “So, you are hoping for a milliner and a modiste,” Peggy said.
“One can hope,” she replied, “But if they are one and the same, I will not complain. I do not want to have to travel to London every time I need a petticoat, but I suppose there is Leeds or York or even Northwick.”
“You could go to Scotland,” Peggy teased, commenting on how far north the village was.
“Heaven forbid. No. I am hoping to shop right here in town, so if there are any of these fine, skilled travelers whom you think might be swayed into planting roots, I would beg you now for an introduction. We have barely enough tradesmen to make a town now that half the citizens have followed the baron.”
Peggy felt fortunate that she had made such an acquaintance on her first day. Who better to be able to locate a local resident than a prominent member of a nearby estate? She could not say why exactly because Peggy was not one who easily trusted or opened up to strangers, but she felt at once that she liked this young lady and her frank manner of speaking. There was no artifice in her manner, no subtlety hidden beneath a veil of words. She was forthright and direct and unashamed to reveal her intentions. It was no wonder that this Lord Belton had chosen in his wife one who could stand by his side while he rebuilt the village and secured his future. Perhaps Adam had not ended up in so horrible a place after all. Only time would tell.
The square was abuzz with activity. It seemed that the entire town and neighboring estates had come out to pick through the offerings. Mr. Banning stood atop a wooden crate at the center of the square singing melodic renditions of knightly adventures and romances of generations past. Some had perhaps been based in fact; others had clearly been embellished to include meddlesome smallfolk and dangerous sirens of the deep. Tonight, he would regale the onlookers by the light of a large bonfire with stories of sea monsters, witches who could raise the dead, dragons, and wraiths who stole misbehaving children from their beds and forced them to sell their souls or labor for a hundred years in the darkness. The nightfall and shadows would make the tales all the more believable than they had been by day, and the coin would flow freely for the talented bard.
Peggy accompanied her new friend from stall to tinker’s stall while the lady made thoughtful purchases and asked insightful questions of the merchants. She was shocked to find how quickly the young lady was able to earn their good graces and even overheard a few things about her companions that she had not known even though she had traveled with them for months. The lady was able to draw out confidences in a matter of a quarter hour’s conversing. It was a talent that Peggy respected and felt that she, too often close lipped herself, did not possess.
Lady Nora convinced a young woman, plump with child and a handful of other hungry mouths at her hip, to remain behind and make an attempt as the new stockinger in Riversbend. The promise of a winter without iced roadways and a solid roof overhead left the woman sagging with relief.
Peggy had seen the woman’s skill with the needles and had even purchased several pairs of knitted stockings herself in recent months. She would have no delay in making a success of the career and was impressed that the noble lady had had an eye for the talent straight away. Lady Nora sweetened the deal by promising a half year rent free so that the family might get settled. And so, it was done.
Nelly, the young mother, waved over her husband to share her good fortune. With a cheerful bounce to her step, she planted a kiss upon his bearded cheek.
“What say you to roots?” she asked.
“You know, we’ve spoken of it,” he replied.
“Yes. We have considered leaving the road, and Providence has shown itself this day.”
Her husband chuckled and looked around, scanning the vacant shops with eyes both wary of the emptiness and a keen understanding of the promise of a future to be built in this place.
“Got you a need of an iron monger?” he asked of the lady, taking her estimation as her slight form was dwarfed by his bulk. “I’m no blacksmith, mind you, but I’ve a collection enough to get started—with sturdy buckets, knobs, latches, and the like—and I know how to build ‘em in for folk.”
“We have a blacksmith. Mr. Hallows,” Lady Nora replied, and the man’s face fell.
But the lady continued. “I am sure he would be pleased to have commission of the pieces you might sell. In fact, the baron’s new estate is not terribly far away and is still in need of all new furnishings, so I might suggest that your collection start its expansion this day.” She gestured down an intersecting lane and instructed that the blacksmith might be found at the edge of the village. “Tell Mr. Hallows that Honora Belton sends you, and I look forward to a delicate lock and key for my letter box.”
They left the couple, who embraced at their good fortune and walked on with their children clamoring for attention until they were out of earshot.
“Two for one,” Peggy mused. “That was fine dealings.”
The lady laughed. “Yes, I cannot wait to gloat to Nash and tell him that I intend to commission all new stockings and garters. He might laugh and call them impractical, but I assure you my feet shall say otherwise, especially with the weather turning cooler. I nearly forced him to take me to Town before the season to procure a warmer set, but we’ve been so terribly occupied here that there hasn’t been the opportunity. Papa promises me a Season next year. The last was a positive disaster, and I refused to budge this year.”
Peggy had thought the young woman married to the local lord, but now, it was clear she was not.
Just as Peggy was about to reply, they were accosted by a rush of no fewer than a dozen boys racing after a runaway hoop. The laughter and shouts were filled with merriment, and the rough and tumble gang did their best to catch the hoop as it plundered through the crowd and down a gentle hill. When it splashed into a small looking-glass pond, the boys stood upon the bank daring one another to jump in after it. It was, after all, past the time for swimming and wading. Although the pond was not yet ice covered, it was undoubtedly cold.
Peggy found herself watching them with her full attention, unaware that anyone was watching her. She studied each boy in turn. Might one of the youths be Adam? She searched face after face, her chest full of longing for recognition, but the quest went unanswered.
Adam had been light of feature when she had last held him, a plump little bundle who was full of giggles and mischief. Would his hair darken as he aged, she wondered? There was one who almost looked familiar, but his hair was too dark, surely, with a shine of russet as a glint of late afternoon sun reflected off of his locks.
The russet-headed boy was the one who took the leap and was received with shouts and cheers of encouragement from his companions. He emerged from the pond with the hoop in hand and stomped his feet to shed the water from them. He had a wide, toothy grin. He brushed back his mop of hair, and for a second Peggy felt her heart stop beating. His eyes were crisp and clear with excitement—mischief, she corrected—almost like the boy she had once known.
Adam? She opened her mouth to call out but was stopped short when a rosy-cheeked, plump woman with a mop of carrot red hair lumbered over with her hands on her hips and laughter in her eyes.
“Every time,” the mother laughed, not even pretending to be stern. “You ought to have been born a fish, love,” she said while tousling his hair. “Come on. Help Jemmy and your father load the wagon. We’ll go back to the house, and you can remove those wet boots before you catch your death. You can put your feet under the blanket.”
“Aww… But Mum…” the boy groaned.
“No buts. It’s late and we’ve an early morn,” the woman clucked. “Hopefully, your boots will dry by morning. Hurry up so you can take those wet boots from your feet.” She kissed him on the forehead, and the boy ducked away, embarrassed. Then he raced off, apparently to help his father.
Not Adam, then. Peggy released the breath that she had been holding. He was tall, she thought, and probably a year or so older than Adam would be. How could she think of her baby as a young boy? Would it always be like this, she wondered? Would every child cause her heart to stop as she realized she did not know her own son.
Nora spoke softly at Peggy’s shoulder. “I’ve always regretted that as one grows older, we must lose such joy and uninhibited play.”
Peggy jumped. She had forgotten, in her musings, that the lady was present. That lady’s watchful eyes scanned Peggy’s face looking for an answer that she schooled her features not to reveal.
“Do you have any children?” Honora asked outright.