“She’ll arrive on Ramspize Point about the fifteenth, Delia. Someone needs to light a signal fire on the shore, to guide her where they’re waiting. You’ll need to go to Evermire . . .”
“I won’t need to go anywhere. The Langmarsh men are returning home today, and my John’s going with them, to pick up some things the Marshal wants brought from Langmarsh House. He’ll find someone trusty who’ll go to Evermire and fix it with my cousins. When he gets back, he’ll tell me how he’s managed it.”
“Are you sure John won’t mention it to anyone? It would be so dangerous for me, and for the girl . . .”
Delia snorted. “And me as well, Jenny. John might not care that much about the girl, or even about you, forgive me for speaking freely, but if I let him know it would endanger me, he’ll not say a word. I promise you that.”
“Thank you! Oh, thank you!”
Delia’s mouth twisted ironically. “No thanks needed if, as I believe, the Duchess intends to pay for it. It would have to be her, for I know your father keeps you in short shrift.”
Genevieve flushed. “It is her money, yes. A hundred royals for you and John, and another hundred for expenses, and still another to help keep the girl until it’s safe for her to return home or she can care for herself. Do you think that will be enough?” She had considered this business of money during the drive home, deciding on this figure at least as a starting point.
“Fifty will do for expenses, including a bit for whoever goes to Evermire and sets it up, but it could take more than a hundred for keeping the girl, so the total is fair. What’s her name?”
“Bessany Blodden.” She passed over the six fifty-royal pieces she had taken from the bag. Delia took the coins, looked them over carefully, nodded her satisfaction, and pocketed them. “My lady,” she said, flushing.
“Yes?”
“For you, I would have done it for nothing except expenses, but John and me, we’re looking to buy a bit of land in Wantresse. A place to keep us when we’re old, and any little money extra goes to that. I thought, since it was someone else’s business . . .”
Genevieve laid her hands on Delia’s shoulder and leaned forward to put their cheeks together. “That’s all right, Delia. If ever I can, I’ll put by a bit for your land. I’ve done you little enough good so far for all your years caring for me.”
Delia flushed again, started to speak, then shook her head and turned away.
Genevieve went back to her own room and lay down on the bed to think first about Delia’s land, for land was a matter of constant concern to the commons. Too much of it was owned by the nobles, far more than they could use. When she’d exhausted what she knew or felt about that subject, she considered what Alicia had asked her to do. The story she and Delia had made up between them seemed so plausible she could almost accept it as reality except for one oddness. Why did Lord Solven, Earl of Ruckward, mind if his young wife had a child? And, why was Alicia ready to risk her daughter’s soul in this way, for certainly her daughter had taken an oath when she married the Lord Solven! A life in his service. Which didn’t include running off!
But then, Veswees’s remark about young mothers having a difficult time came to mind. And her noticing how few young mothers there were.
And many of the students at school had been motherless, as Genevieve herself was, the result of noble husbands insisting upon having an heir, or two, or three, with mothers dying in childbirth, because they were older. One would think the off-world doctors so much touted by the court would be able to do something about that. Why did so many noblewomen die? In the villages of Wantresse there were many young mothers. Most of the women servants at school had children that they chattered about and showed pictures of.