Bett stepped back. ‘There are others that rely on you, Gabriel, how will your poor mam and sister manage with you in trouble?’

‘Fear not, lassie, I can care for my own affairs, no need for women to meddle.’

Bett began to walk towards where Daniel hid, leaving Gabriel to continue with his tasks. ‘My part is done,’ she said, pulling her neckerchief more firmly on.

Daniel reached through the hedge and lifted the worm on to the softer ground of the field, then rose to his feet. He whistled as Bett passed so as not to startle her. She turned to him with an expression of contempt, arms folded.

‘What am I, a dog? Speak, don’t call me to heel.’

He clambered over the hedge out on to the path, like a boy chastised. ‘Sorry.’

‘What is it that has you jumping out at me on my way home?’ She sighed and readjusted the fit of her petticoats around her middle. ‘It’s this girl, isn’t it? You’re wanting to run off and wed?’

Taken aback, he leaped in with protest. ‘No, it’s not – not that, we wouldn’t even know how to – no, no. Not that.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Wouldn’t put it past you, it’s just the kind of half-wit notion you’d take into your head. So it’s not the girl?’

‘Ah well, no, yes it is the girl. Just not that.’

Her expression warmed and he was reminded for a moment of the scent of her skin in sunlight, the sight of flesh revealed little by little as she rolled down her stockings. Bett placed a hand on his shoulder, stepped closer, lowered her voice. ‘You’ve got her belly up, haven’t you? There are remedies to be had, I’ve heard, a brew. I know you don’t like the cunning woman, but she—’

Daniel shook her hand off. ‘Betts, no. Not that either, we’ve not—’

‘Oh. A real devotion, then.’ Her usual expression, that of a busy person delayed by the triflings of an imbecile, returned. ‘What, then? Speed to it, I’ve a home to be at.’

‘She – she is in need of work and—’

‘I’m hardly in a position to be offering work.’

‘No, I know. She is also in need of clothes.’

Bett eyed him shrewdly. ‘She has no clothes?’

Behind her Gabriel returned to the yard, dragging the plough and stamping mud from his boots. He glanced in their direction, faltered a moment in his task. ‘She has – not the right clothes.’

The unasked questions flowed between them. ‘Poor lass,’ she said.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll look something out tonight.’

‘Thank you.’ He knew he need not ask for her discretion. ‘You’ve gathered enough, I’m sure, with Father gifting you my mother’s clothes year on year, and you working since you were just a lass and now a maid of—’