CHAPTER TWELVE #5
She knew little about it - no one of her acquaintance had enough money or property to their name to bother with a wardship for their children.
Most simply settled the children in apprenticeships, or else kept them at home until they married.
But it stood to reason that, if a wardship could be willed, then it was essentially a piece of property. And property could be bought and sold.
"Well - yes." Isabel frowned. "But I've no money to buy it. Not enough to make it worth their while, anyhow. Remember, they've money from it each month until Walter reaches his majority."
"I know," Constance said. "But you could make the money, couldn't you?
Just look how highly Avram and Leah valued your embroidery - he said outright he would gladly pay for more of it, once my debts were erased.
If you went on embroidering the garments I made, you could earn enough to buy the wardship.
Not tomorrow, perhaps not even this year, but surely, eventually . . ."
Truth be told, she had no idea how much money Isabel's stepsons would demand in exchange for the wardship.
The money itself was a pittance, Isabel had said: they only clung to it out of principle.
But principles had their price, for the sort of men who would dangle the threat of separation from her child over a mother's head.
It could be done. She could not countenance that God would be so unkind as to leave Isabel trapped in her current situation forever.
She didn't deserve that. Neither of them did.
She had taken Isabel's hand as she spoke, clutching her fingers tightly.
Isabel made no move to pull away. She was staring at Constance, and her look was nakedly hungry: hungry for hope, hungry for what Constance was offering her.
Hungry for something better than what she'd had.
Constance could give it to her. She had to believe that.
"I could - try," Isabel said at last. She licked her lips. "But - it would take time. Years, even. And I've no idea if they would even accept the proposition. It might come to nothing."
"It might," Constance said. "Or it might not.
" She squeezed Isabel's fingers. "And surely it is worth it to make the attempt.
" Surely I am worth it, was what she meant.
She badly wanted to hear Isabel say as much, but she knew she wasn't ready yet.
Another long wait: but she could bear it, knowing what reward she would find at the end.
"It is," Isabel said slowly, "worth it." She wrapped Constance's hand in both of hers', squeezing back.
"I will not pose the question to them just yet.
I fear they, or Hilda, may try to prevent my attempt, if they learn of it before the feat is accomplished.
They may be more amenable if I come to them with the money already in hand.
" Her mouth twitched in the little half-smile that Constance had come to love.
"And in the meantime, you may begin to offer embroidery to anyone who may wish to pay for it.
If nothing else, it will give me a reason to return. "
Constance leaned forward until their foreheads bumped together.
"Then I will begin today," she said, and was rewarded with a soft puff of air across her face as Isabel laughed.
She took the opportunity to brush a kiss across her cheek, and then her mouth.
Isabel tensed slightly, but she neither objected nor pulled away.
After all, their only audience was Walter – who was contentedly gnawing on the spoon he had eaten breakfast with, and thus paid them no mind - and so they could be as free with their affections as they wished.
And, if their plan came to fruition, they could do the same every day.
"I had better go," Isabel murmured, drawing back after another too-brief kiss.
"The longer I delay, the angrier Hilda will be.
" She dropped Constance's hand and shifted Walter on her hip, gently prying the spoon out of his grasp and handing it back to Constance.
Constance badly wished she could take Isabel in her arms and keep her there, safe from any irritable nieces or quarrelsome stepsons.
Soon, she thought, and privately vowed to seek out as much custom as she could manage by the time the day was out.
"Say goodbye," Isabel said to her son, and Walter flapped a hand in Constance's direction with a mulish, "'bye." He evidently had not forgiven the loss of the spoon. Constance pulled a face at him, and it drew out a small, reluctant smile. He looked so much like his mother, Constance thought.
"I'll return as soon as I can manage," Isabel said, then hoisted Walter up on her hip and went out the door.
Constance caught at her hand as she went, giving her fingers a final squeeze before dropping it and letting her go.
She couldn't kiss her goodbye with the door open, so she had to be content with that.
Soon, she thought again. Soon could sustain them both, if they tried hard enough; and even if they didn't, it had to.