Chapter 2
Harm
Norah stared into her hand mirror, carefully searching her hair for any traces of its natural, traitorous red. But all she could see was black.
“Has the glamour slipped?” Nanny asked from the hearth, where she was preparing to boil ashes in water to make lye.
“No, it’s in place,” Norah said as she put down the mirror. “May I go now?”
“Hold on. I want to see for myself.” Nanny left the hearth and hurried over to the little table, where Norah was standing with her basket and shoes ready to go. Norah sighed but bent obediently for Nanny to examine her head.
“I see it’s trying to curl again,” Nanny said, eyeing the band in Norah’s hair.
“Just let me…” She tapped the thin blue band, and immediately, Norah’s hair straightened and began to shine.
Once Nanny was convinced Norah’s hair was finally and truly obedient, she grabbed a blue scarf from the table and wrapped it around Norah’s head to hold her hair out of her face and the band in place.
“Now you’re presentable,” she said, nodding once before kissing Norah on the cheek and then returning to her task.
“Make sure not to get caught talking too long with Mrs. Barely, mind you. If that woman starts up, you’ll never get home. ”
“You do know that everyone thinks I’ve been dead for ten years now,” Norah said with a wry smile. “And there are other redheads in the world besides me.” When Nanny didn’t respond, she added, “Like my people?”
“The pale people from up north have never been your people, love,” Nanny replied, pushing one of her short gray curls out of her face.
“Your ancestors, yes. But not your people. Besides, most of them live up north and far east of Ashland. Nowhere near here, and none would be so foolhardy as to let themselves get so much sun or so many freckles as you have.” She peered at Norah over her spectacles.
Norah rolled her eyes but blew a kiss. They had this conversation at least twice a week, and it always ended the same way. “Goodbye, Nanny. I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t forget, Norah,” Nanny called, her face suddenly solemn. “You scoff now. But you are the last of your family’s legacy. So, I mean it when I beg you to take care.”
Norah waved again, but as she made her way through their cottage’s front garden and out the gate into the busy street, she couldn’t help thinking.
She might be the last of her family’s legacy. But that hadn’t done much to serve her these ten long years, except get her family killed and their home burned to the ground.
No, Norah wasn’t looking for legacy. She was hungering instead for adventure.
Norah enjoyed her afternoon walk as she always did, admiring the shipyard and imagining setting sail for her family’s ancient homeland.
But she wouldn’t go there straightaway, she decided, pausing to let a carriage cross the street in front of her, making sure to step far enough back so her skirts weren’t splashed by the gigantic wheels.
First, she would have an adventure along the way.
She didn’t have much gold with which to afford an adventure–only what Nanny had snatched while escaping the fire with her.
But she was a hard worker and could easily earn more money along the way, as could Nanny.
Which was why, though she hadn’t told Nanny, she had wanted to run their errands today.
“Ah, good afternoon, Norah,” a man called as Norah made her way down the dock. He shook hands with the man he’d been speaking to before tipping his hat and making his way toward her.
“Hi, Mr. Coleson,” Norah said, grinning at the older man. His gray hair was unusually unruly today, but his eyes twinkled as merrily as ever. “I was wondering if you had been able to give our conversation any thought.”
“I have,” he said, rubbing his chin. “And I think I could probably find a ship for you. Now, I’m being choosy, mind you. I’m not about to send you off with some mercenary or privateer.”
Norah laughed. “A sentiment I appreciate most heartily.”
“Aye,” he said. “That aside, I do think I could probably find someone who would hire you and your aunt. There are a number of wealthy families that own their own boats, and they often prefer to hire servants specifically to cook and clean for them on the ship. But I’ll warn you,” his eyes narrowed slightly.
“Working at sea wouldn’t be an easy life.
Are you both ready for that? Once you’re on the ship, there’s no getting off. ”
Norah’s heart pounded in her chest. “We’re both healthy and strong, and my aunt is exceptionally skilled in running a household.
” So Nanny wasn’t really her aunt, but it was all part of convincing everyone around them that Norah was just another commoner, an act they’d been playing for the last ten years.
Of course, Nanny had no idea Norah was asking about them finding jobs at sea either. But, Norah promised herself, she would convince Nanny to say yes.
She had to.
“Well, just make sure it’s what you both want,” the dockmaster said. “That said, I’ll keep my eye out and let you know if anyone asks.”
Norah thanked the dockmaster profusely before hurrying on her way, daydreaming as she did about all the adventures she was so close to calling her own. Well, their own.
If she and Nanny could find some genteel family to hire them to work on their family’s boat, they could travel all over the western coast. Then, perhaps, they could venture south or east. She would meet new people, and maybe fall in love a time or two before growing tired of it all and heading home to the land of her parents’ forefathers.
Norah amused herself in this way until she reached the end of the shipyard and was distracted by the whimpers of a small child.
“Norah? Norah?”
Norah looked around until she saw a little boy sitting on the ground at the edge of an alley.
His eyes were red and his face tear-stained, and he was holding his right knee in both hands.
He’d obviously fallen on it, as it was scratched in a dozen places and covered in smears of blood.
Not a dangerous injury, but one that surely stung.
“Again, Vincent?” She knelt beside him. “You broke your arm only last week.”
Vincent’s big brown eyes filled with tears again. “I don’t try to get hurt. It just happens!”
Norah sighed but smiled. “Very well, but you know you can’t tell anyone, yes?”
Vincent nodded his curly little head enthusiastically.
Norah stood and looked around. She spotted a bucket of water sitting at the corner of the alley, just behind a small vegetable garden edging a neat little cottage.
The garden and cottage belonged to Vincent’s family.
She was quite familiar with both, as Nanny and Vincent’s grandmother were friends.
She fetched the bucket and lifted its ladle, filling it to the brim.
Then she carried it back to Vincent. After cleaning the wound and making sure there wasn’t any dirt in it, Norah looked all around to make sure no one was watching.
Then, as quickly as she could, she draped her cloak over his knee and, beneath the cloak, began running her fingers lightly over the wound.
She knew the moment that the skin was knitted back together because the little boy let out a sigh of relief. This meant she could remove the cloak, and he could stand.
“Take care now,” she said to the little boy, fondly ruffling his dark curls. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Norah!” Vincent cried. “And thank you!”
Norah went on to make her purchases after that, trying to ignore the little niggling voice in the back of her conscience that warned her how angry Nanny would be if she knew Norah was using her gift in public.
But Norah had been helping Vincent for years, as the little boy was unusually talented at the art of finding ways to injure himself.
Besides, he knew better than to tell anyone.
She hoped.
But then again, what good was having a gift if you never got to use it?
As she left her final shop, the apothecary, with a little package of dried licorice root for Nanny’s favorite tea, she spotted one of her friends being courted by a young man.
And though she was happy for her friend, who was blossoming under the young farmer’s attention, Norah couldn’t help the little stab of desire that flared through her–the wish that some young man would look at her the way the farmer was looking at her friend.
But she was all too aware of how Nanny’s careful ministrations made her look peculiar, at the very least. Her heart-shaped, freckled face was at odds with the straight, silky black hair Nanny forced her to wear. It was the costume she’d been wearing for the last ten years.
Which was why it surprised her when, three streets over, a neighbor boy pulled her into a street dance that was taking place beside a group of musicians playing for coins.
“Come on, Norah!” he cried, laughing as he tugged on her hand. “You never dance!”
“Johnny, let me go!” she laughed. “I’ll spill my basket!”
“I’ll take your basket, dear.” Johnny’s mother, another friend of Nanny’s, appeared at her elbow. “Johnny’s right. You never have fun with the young people. Go. I’ll be waiting here when you’re done.”
Norah, for all the duty she did her best to keep, was undone at this.
Johnny’s mother was right. She never had fun with people her age.
And though Johnny was still two years her junior, he was tall enough to lead her into the fun country dance that a dozen other couples had fallen into, flying over the cobblestone street in time to the song of the lute and pipe.
If Nanny could see Norah now, she might have a heart attack.
But, Norah reasoned as she was passed into the arms of another partner, leaving in the middle of the dance would attract even more attention at this point than simply finishing the song.
So Norah simply let her dance partners lead her into the music, their laughter ringing out over the usual noise of the city, and tried to ignore her conscience.
What harm could a dance do? After all, it was the most fun she’d had in a long, long time. And just for a moment, she could pretend that she belonged.