“I met thy husband two years ago, by chance, Friend Fraser. It was most kind of him to have sent his nephew to inquire as to our circumstances, which were … difficult. I—I hope our momentary presence here will not discomfit thee.”

This last was not quite a question, but I managed a smile, though my face was stiff with cold and fatigue. I could feel a lukewarm trickle of water running slowly down my spine, finding its way through the layers of sodden cloth sticking to my skin.

“Oh, no,” I said. “Um. The more the merrier, don’t they say?” I blinked hard to clear water from my lashes, but it didn’t seem to help. Everything was gray and blurring round the edges, and the wine was a small red warmth in my stomach.

“Claire,” said Jenny, grabbing my elbow. “Sit down before ye fall on your face, aye?”

I DIDN’T FALL on my face, but did end up being transported by wagon with my head in Rachel’s lap, surrounded by soggy but cheerful children. Lizard, who so far had not uttered a word, chose to walk with Ian, Silvia, and the Sachem, while Jenny drove the wagon and kept up a running stream of commentary over her shoulder, pointing out things of interest to the little girls and reassuring them.

“Ye’ll have a wee cabin to live in with your mam,” she assured them. “And no man will trouble her, ever again. My brother will see to it.”

“What happened?” I said to Rachel. I spoke in a low voice, but one of the ragged little girls heard me and turned to look at me seriously. She wasn’t pretty, but both she and the sister close in age had an odd dignity about them that was at odds with their years.

“Our father was taken by Indians,” she said to me, speaking precisely. “My mother was left with no way to keep us, save her garden and small gifts from men who came to call.”

“Some of them were not kind,” her sister added, and they both pursed their lips and looked out into the dripping woods.

“I see,” I said, and thought I probably did. Jamie had told me, very briefly, about the Quaker widow who had taken care of him for a day or two when his back had seized up while he was in her house, having met there with George Washington—and I did wonder what the hell George Washington had been doing there, but hadn’t asked, owing to the press of events at the time.

“Mrs. Murray is right,” I assured them. “Mr. Fraser will find a place for you.” After all, we would shortly have a number of cabins vacated by Jamie’s evicted tenants …

Patience and Prudence—those were the oldest girls’ names, and the little one was Chastity—glanced at each other and nodded.

“We told Mummy that Friend Jamie would not see us starve,” one of them said, with a simple confidence that moved me.