Contents ( 61)
- Contents
- I
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- II
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- III
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- IV
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- V
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- VI
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- VII
- Chapter 40
- VIII
- About the Characters
- A Word about Accuracy
- XIII
- XIV
- Reading Group Guide
- A Note of Thanks
- About the Author
And so she had been. So she was.
There was also love for her in this house with her father and his new wife here in Edinburgh, and there was Jamie every evening, given that his days were taken up now with his studies at the grammar school of Mr. Skene.
She met him in the street outside the school, as was their custom. It was only a few minutes after seven, so they’d have an hour at least to make their own, and being early summer, it was bright.
Jamie stretched. He’d grown taller than her by the breadth of a hand and could now look straight over her head, but his fair hair was just as unkempt and his grin was as ready and cheerful as ever.
“You’re lucky to be a girl.”
“Why?”
“Mr. Skene doesn’t teach girls.”
There weren’t many schools that did teach girls, and those few that did charged a fee Lily’s father could not afford, so she would have to make do with the learning she’d had from the Moray girls at Abercairney. Besides, she had plenty of work at home to keep her occupied. Still, she was envious, sometimes, of Jamie. She’d liked reading, and there were no books at all in her father’s house.
Jamie asked, “What will we do? Will we look for your cat?”
Lily nodded. She’d first spotted the black-and-white kitten three days ago and had been worrying since for its welfare. She had searched for it, but Edinburgh had not been built upon a simple plan—it was a labyrinth of wynds and closes twisting off the broader streets and narrowing to falls of steps that disappeared in shadows, overhung by painted tenements with galleries and watching windows crowding close together overhead.
Although she’d lived here nearly two full years, she’d still not learned the name of every street and winding passage, but her father, who had knowledge of them all, strictly forbad her to take some of them by daylight, and by night they all were barred to her if she was on her own.
“Ye’re of an age now where some men will take advantage of ye, Lily, should they catch ye in a corner,” he had warned. Being only nine, she’d felt the need to ask him what it meant to “take advantage,” whereupon her father had, for help, looked to his wife, who’d said, “They’ll try to put a baby in ye,” and since Lily hadn’t wanted that, she had kept clear of all the places she’d been ordered to avoid.
But having Jamie at her side gave her the freedom to go anywhere, not only because she was not alone, but because everybody knew his father was the captain of the town guard.
They could, if they wanted, go down past the Netherbow, past all the houses of merchants and craftsmen and, farther still, past the grand houses and gardens and right to the palace of Holyrood. Or they could walk up the other way, up past the menacing Tolbooth and past the tall spire of St. Giles’s and on into the Landmarket and up the hill to the castle, where sometimes they’d look for the secret way in through the walls Jamie once overheard someone speaking of.