Moon Cutters Read Free

James?’
    ‘What an odd question to ask me on such a short acquaintance; do you intend to ask me to wed you when you grow up, then?’
    She was sure her face had turned red and she placed her icy hands against her cheeks. She must not give away her age, which was eighteen, almost nineteen. Luckily, she and Lucy took after their mother, who had been small and neat in stature. ‘Certainly not! You are much too old.’
    ‘A pity; it’s been a long time since I had an offer of marriage.’
    A woman joined them, grey-haired and capable-looking. ‘Shall I put your guests in the nursery wing, Sir James?’
    ‘No, Pridie, it’s too cold under the attic, and the younger girl has a fever. We’ll use my sister’s old room for Miss Jarvis. It will be convenient for the servants to come and go. It also connects to the maid’s room, and Miss Lucinda can sleep in there until the fever subsides. Miss Jarvis will be near enough to her sister for them both to be reassured.
    ‘But, sir—’
    ‘Enough, Pridie. My sister has been dead a long time. There is no need to keep the room as a shrine, because she won’t be coming back, despite you thinking you saw her ghost in that room. Perhaps you’ll find some useful clothing there for the children to use.’
    He led them up the stairs to a comfortable chamber.
    ‘My guests will need a wash, and their clothing must be cleaned and repaired. You can get them something to wear from the cupboards. The hems can be shortened. Clean the wound on the older girl’s head if you would. I may have to stitch it.’
    Miranda’s attention had been captured by a portrait over the fireplace. It was a lad, not quite into his manhood but confident in the beauty he’d inherited. His body was a long vibrant column, his slim hips thrust forward just a little – to emphasize his budding maleness, perhaps. Dark green eyes looked directly at her from slightly hooded lids, as though contemplating her, holding her gaze steady. But, then, he couldn’t look away; only she could. It took a while. There was something a little derisive about his smile, but the softly curved mouth was quirked into a dimple at one side. His hair curled.
    Sir James anticipated her question. ‘No, it’s not me when I was young. It’s my sister’s boy – my nephew, Fletcher Taunt. This was his mother’s room when she lived. He and I had an argument two years ago, and the damned fool left to find his own way in the world. From what I gather, he’s not making a bad job of it, either.’ He fell into a moment of silent contemplation and then smiled. ‘He wouldn’t have changed much, I reckon.’
    A little later, he pulled the edges of Miranda’s wound together with strands of her hair, knotting them together over the top of the wound. He placed a pad and a bandage over the top. ‘There … that’s better.’
    ‘I hope your nephew comes home.’
    ‘Do you now? If he does, it will be after I’m dead and he inherits this place, unless one of us admits we were wrong.’
    Which of them had been wrong about what? She was about to ask him what they’d argued about when he changed the subject abruptly. ‘This might pull a bit, child, but it will be easier on you, and it will heal in a couple of weeks. Don’t scratch it when it starts to itch, and keep it dry.’
    ‘But my hair’s sticky with blood.’
    ‘And can stay that way. Once a scab has formed, the flesh under it will begin to heal.’
    She was allowed some privacy while she washed herself and pulled on a large nightgown. Pridie treated the bites the dogs had left on her, bathing them in warm water, making tutting noises and pursing her mouth now and again. Miranda was glad he’d left that examination to Mrs Pridie, as she gently brushed the dark length of her hair that flowed out from under the bandage and then loosely braided it.
    Sir James came in to question Pridie about Miranda’s bites and examined a couple on her arm and hand before pronouncing himself