“You do have my word,” I told her. “If we need to talk to her, we’ll do it here, where she will be more comfortable. You said she comes on Mondays?”

“Yes, it’s her day off.”

“I will tell Gilroy that.” I made another note. “And in the meantime, I thought this might help you pass the hours.” I slid the book I’d brought across the table to her.

It was very satisfying watching her receive it. Lily handled books with quiet reverence, as though they were made of gold.

I said, “It shows some of the plants of the Americas, although the author leans a little heavily towards the islands, and I fear the text is all in French. But the illustrations are well done. The ferns, especially.”

She thanked me, and the look she sent me as she promised she would take good care of that book blotted out all other, lesser images within my mind. My concentration foundered.

We were halfway home when Helen asked me, “Where’s your pen?”

“I must have left it there.”

“Your ink as well?”

“It does not matter. It was old ink, and your husband has a trove of ink stashed in the scrutore.” With a smile, I told her, “I’ve no doubt that Mrs. Graeme will return them with the book.”

Helen granted it was very likely. “She does seem a very thoughtful woman.”

“Aye.”

“I quite enjoyed our visit with her.”

I was pleased to hear it. It would suit me well if Helen, in her efforts to find me a wife, were to notice Lily as a prospect. I said, “I enjoyed it, too.”

“For someone of her class, she carries herself well. It is a shame I’ve not the funds to hire another maid, just now.” Her smile, so bright and careless, did not know the cut it made.

There’s a difference between us and them…

Helen Turnbull had been raised in softer circumstances, in a family that could boast of loftier connections than my own or Lily’s. I knew she had meant no insult by her comment. And that somehow made it worse.

Helen said, “I do believe she’d make good company.”

The wind blew very hard and cold between us down the High Street, but I found the voice to answer, “Aye. I daresay that she would.”

Chapter 28

Friday, 3 October, 1707

Being raised beside the sea, I’d learnt the superstitions of the men who made their living by her. Steer your boat clockwise to follow the way of the sun when you’re first coming out of the harbor. Don’t whistle into the wind. Never speak the words “rabbit” or “rat,” among others. And if you should meet with a minister on your way down to your boat, go straight home and start over again, else you’ll meet with bad luck on your voyage.

I took all these things as the customs of men who were trying to manage a hard force of nature the best way they could, and I gave them respect, though I’d never believed in them.