The woman’s eyes were brown and lovely, like her gown. And kind. So Lily told her. “Lily Aitcheson.”

“It is a nice name, Lily. Are ye lost? Where are your minnie and your daddie?”

Lily felt her eyes flood hot with tears. “My daddie’s dead.” She turned her face away against the pillow. “And my mother, too. I’ve only Jean, and she won’t have me back now because I’m…” She could not finish, and the silence that came after was so long that Lily screwed her eyes tight shut, fearing what judgment was to come.

But all that came was one more touch of Barbara’s hand upon her forehead, just as gentle as before. “Well, I will have ye.”

Slowly, Lily brought her head around again, eyes opening, not ready to believe yet. “Truly?”

“Truly. Ye are welcome here. Can ye keep house?”

Lily bit her lip and nodded.

Barbara told her, “Good, for I’ve no skill at it, and all my lads will tell ye so.” She smiled. “Now, let us find ye clean linen, so ye can get washed.”

There was a small adjoining chamber made to be used as a closet, with a washbasin and ewer and the necessary chair. In one corner on the floor there sat a larger basin draped with linens. Bringing heated water in two buckets from the downstairs kitchen, Barbara first had Lily stand within the larger basin in her shift and washed her hair with soap that smelled of roses, then she rinsed it clean and wrapped it in a towel, leaving her in privacy to do the rest.

Lily had never bathed this way before. She did it rapidly, finding the sensation strange, to be naked and standing in a pool of bathwater, her skin warm where she was scrubbing or sluicing and chilled where she wasn’t. But when she was done and she’d dried with a clean towel and slipped on the new shift Barbara had laid out for her, she felt almost reborn.

The shift reached to the floor but Barbara rolled it up and pinned it for her. From the chest beneath the window in the larger chamber Barbara lifted out a petticoat and bodice in a sturdy calico with stripes of chestnut brown and ivory. Both looked small enough for Lily.

Barbara said, “These were mine, when I was small. I kept them in case… Well, they’ve been in that box twenty years, so they’re long out of fashion, but I have a friend who’s fair skilled with her needle and can work them over so that none will notice.”

There were stays as well, and a pair of new stockings still tied with a ribbon. Once her hair was combed and covered by a pinner, Lily could face her reflection in the oval mirror and feel happiness at last begin to rise above the shame.

“There, now,” said Barbara. “Ye will do.”

Downstairs, a door banged, followed by a thumping rush of footsteps and a tangle of boys’ voices, with a man’s voice over all, attempting to keep order.