In the heart of the village, we walked past tall shops and short, crowded houses, much smaller than ours. People sat on the steps, talking, begging, and drinking. One man sat with a young girl on his lap, whispering in her ear as she cried, apparently trying to comfort her. His clothing appeared to have been worn for weeks without wash, and the little girl looked the same. Both their faces seemed to be sinking.
Mr. Wortham stopped and reached in a pouch around his waist. He withdrew a shilling and held it out to the man. Clara and I watched from behind as the men exchanged a few indistinguishable words. The coin ended up back in Mr. Wortham’s possession and he walked ahead.
Clara and I caught up to him. He gave me a sideways glance. “Poverty and pride have never belonged together.”
“He didn’t want it?” I turned around and stared at the little girl. She was sobbing again. I felt a twinge of grief as I looked at her. Was she hungry? Cold? What was she sobbing about? The image of her sinking face lingered in my head as we left that street behind.
“It seems my services are unwelcome to everyone today.” I felt Mr. Wortham’s gaze on me long enough to make me uncomfortable. “Yet still I try.” He looked heavenward and back down again.
With Clara at my side, we followed Mr. Wortham off the path and toward the shore where dozens of men emptied their traps from the water. Lobsters, clams, and fish filled the small colorful boats where men loaded their catches in wooden crates and carried them into the market.
“I’ll supply you with enough for one week,” Mr. Wortham said. “But if you want more, you’ll have to work for it. Or you can ponder on the idea of payment by secrets. I would very much like to know what brought three all-the-crack ladies to Craster.”
My usually smooth brow wrinkled in annoyance. “You would do very well to mind your own business, Mr. Wortham.”
“Oh?” He lifted a bag of smelly dead fish. “Then I s’pose I’ll keep these.”
I didn’t know why, but I pressed him further. “And always pronounce words clearly when speaking to ‘all-the-crack ladies.’”
He dropped the bag to the ground and stepped toward me. His head tipped down, and he gave me a stern look. “You would do well to stop pressing the temper of your means of survival. I’m doing you a service. Besides, I caught‘emmyself,” he finished just to irk me.
Miss Bentford caught up to us then, and I clamped my mouth shut, taking a step back. I would have to watch my tongue in her presence. She could very well be sending reports to Mama about my propriety and manners, and Mr. Wortham seemed to be bringing out the very worst in me.
“We graciously thank you, Mr. Wortham,” Clara said, her voice quick.
He gave her a stiff nod and handed over the bag of fish. He tossed her a fast smile and said, “To you, Miss Clara, I say you are quite welcome.” I thought I saw her blush. I rolled my eyes inwardly. No man could make me blush. Ever.
I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the fish. I was going to have to eat it. My stomach turned over and over at the thought. I had always delicately pushed my food around my plate when fish came in a course. Now I had to eat it for a week or go hungry. I didn’t even want to think about after that week was over. Without money, we would have to find work. Mr. Wortham had mentioned working for our next supply of food, and I was afraid to know what that meant. But I wasn’t going to tell him any secrets;thatI knew.
“And when this is gone?” I asked. “How will we afford anything more?”
He raised both eyebrows this time. “Work,” he affirmed.
If we could convince him to provide for us until Mama sent a new allowance of money, I could continue through life in this wasteland without lifting a finger. I decided to employ my oldest and most talented tactic.
It began with a slight pout of my lips. Then I leaned in close. “Is there truly no other option? We are so very afraid and alone.”
Instead of acting flustered, bending to my requests, Mr. Wortham surprised me. He stepped even closer. His closeness afforded me with a new view of his eyes. They were not only blue—they were streaked with green and edged in grey. “If it suits you, catching fish would be your best option. I would very much like to see you sporting a pair of fishermen trousers.” A wink followed the words.Well, dash it. The man could flirt with the best of us.
The shock of his words struck me silent, which was likely what he intended. I wanted to stomp my foot and demand my way, but I suspected he would find amusement in such an act. “You will never have the privilege.”
“A shame. But I happen to know of a few more suitable employs for a lady. One of which may be of particular interest.”
I cast my eyes at Clara. “What is it?”
“I am not at liberty to disclose the position at this time.” He rubbed the stubble at his jaw. “Although I am a tradesman of sorts, so something could be arranged…”
“We have no secrets to share!” I half-screeched.
His eyes widened. “It appears you do. Let us strike a bargain. I shall recommend you for any work you may seek in exchange for a tale of your past and the meaning of your visit to Craster.”
I gritted my teeth. “Your generosity isn’t given freely, I see.”
“Only when it’s appreciated. In your case, I should like to see you earn it.” Then he smiled. Never had I wanted to slap a man in the face more than I did just now. “Good day, Miss Clara,” he nodded, “Miss Bentford…and Charlotte.”
The ribbon of my bonnet seemed to be growing increasingly tight. “You will address us properly.” I managed to keep my voice even.
“I’m in no position to take orders from you. In one week’s time, you could end up cleaning and gutting my catches in the market, in which case, you’ll be taking orders from me.” His words hung in the air as he walked away with a nod and a victorious grin.
