Margaret’s head shook decidedly, and Charlotte immediately reached out to take Margaret’s hands in her own. She inclined her head until the woman’s reluctant gaze came into her own. “Do you wish to run away from it forever?”
Margaret’s slight shoulders cowered. “I think so, miss.”
Charlotte thought about what she could offer. She had the ability to hire Margaret permanently, didn’t she? Especially in the absence of her mother and Christopher? This was yet one more way she wished to establish herself as independent. She gestured to the shade under a tree nearby and suggested they sit.
“Margaret,” she began, “I am willing to provide a station for you here and offer you protection, but I do feel it is wise for me to know more about your past before I do so.” She patted the woman’s hand. “I realize it is painful, but can you tell me a little of where you’ve come from?”
A glimmer of hope coupled with an uncertain, quivering lip manifested on Margaret’s face. She studied Charlotte’s countenance for a long time before answering. “I still can’t remember everythin’, but it was the fire that reminded me. The burned wood looks like coals. I remembered I went to work in the mines.”
“In the mines? They allow women—” Charlotte choked on her words, realizing how little she knew of what happened in a mine. Alex’s stinging remarks flashed in her memory. She reallywasignorant of went on there.
“Yes. ’Tis not the most well-looked-on place for a woman.” Margaret hung her head. “I can’t remember it all, but I remember feelin’ destitute, and they’re always lookin’ fer workers. Me mum did it for a bit, so I went there.”
“What... ?” Charlotte tried to mask her shock. “What did you do there?”
“I had the fortune of bein’ above ground, haulin’ coal. Me mum worked b’sides the men in them shafts. They like the smaller women and children best, and they can pay ’em less than the men.”
It was fortunate to haul coal? Charlotte couldn’t hide her shudder this time. “You are strong enough to have done such work?”
“It ain’t about bein’ strong, miss. It’s about doin’ what they expect. Everybody knows you get your work done and don’t complain ’bout them heavy loads. Each person’s got to earn their wages, see.”
Charlotte’s mouth filled with an acrid taste. It seemed these people, even women and children, were viewed as commodities. “And then what happened? Were you injured? How did you come to be where I found you?”
“That I can’t recall. Much of my time there I can’t yet place, miss. ’Tis strange, ’cause I can remember most of me childhood, but then it goes all fuzzy. All I know is I don’t want to return.”
Charlotte leaned back, processing Margaret’s sad tale. How much hardship had this woman endured? She must have been injured in the mine. No wonder she was scared.
Across the lake she saw George’s thick arms and Joseph’s not-as-strong ones wrestling with a large trout. She thought she saw a few more fish in a pile near them, but it seemed that Walter’s excitement had waned, for he was halfway around her side of the lake, skipping rocks on a flat part of the shore nearest the road. She should return to them, but with Margaret’s memories so raw, she felt she owed the woman a bit more time before they rejoined the rest of their party.
“I thank you, Margaret, for that information.” She smoothed a wrinkle in her dress. “I know it is not easy to speak of such things. I wish to find you a better placement than in those awful mines. There may be more parts of your past that you remember, and even if we find you a permanent situation here, that information is important.”
Margaret still looked uneasy, but she nodded. “I thank ye, miss. I promise to work hard while I’m here. Nothin’ pays like them wages at the mine, but as long as I have food to eat, it will be better here.”
Charlotte smiled. “And you promise you’ll tell me more of your past if you recall anything?”
Margaret hesitated, cowering like a mouse backing into a hole. “Yes, miss, I shall.”
Charlotte rose from her place, brushing off her skirts, and Margaret did the same. Shielding her eyes and staring across the lake, Charlotte chuckled. “Seems they did all right with their catch after all.”
Margaret nodded, but a scream echoed across the distance. Charlotte’s eyes darted to where she’d last seen Walter. Ripples raced across the lake, and white splashes of water coupled with arms flailing around confirmed her fear.
Lifting her skirts, she bolted around the lake toward his location, but the slope of the hill was steep and cumbersome. George and Joseph seemed consumed with a recent catch and hadn’t appeared to hear Walter’s cry.
“George! Joseph!” she shouted across the long stretch of the lake, but neither looked in her direction. She stumbled forward, catching her toe in her dress and ripping the hem. At this rate, she’d never reach Walter in time. Going through the water, too, would prove risky, for she doubted her ability to stay afloat in her heavy skirts, let alone drag him back to the shore.
Again she called toward her other brothers, to no avail. Somewhere behind her she heard Margaret coming, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off Walter. The little arms and head continued to flail about in the water, but the longer it took for her to rush toward him, the more his movements slowed. “Walter!”
Finally George’s head whipped around from the far edge of the pond. Charlotte stumbled over a large, protruding rock, and fell, the edge of another stone slicing her palm. Ignoring the stinging sensation, she bolted back to her feet, but the water had turned still.
She neared the edge of the lake just as someone else strode through the water. His coat was off, and he was waist-deep already. Her pounding heart gained hope that Walter wouldn’t be lost. The man plunged into the water at the spot Charlotte had seen the last ripple, and she offered a silent plea that he would find Walter before it was too late. After what felt like ages, Walter’s limp brown hair emerged, cradled in the man’s elbow.
The man’s partially turned face was covered by his own wet hair, and once he could stand, he spat out some water and trudged to the grassy bank, immediately turning Walter on his side and slapping him forcefully and repeatedly on the back. Charlotte rushed to the bank nearest them, still out of breath and anxious.
Walter’s ashen face spewed liquid, and then he gasped. Charlotte fell to her knees and reached for her brother’s cold, limp hand. “Dear Walter,” she said, bringing his cold hand to her flushed cheek. Without even looking at her brother’s rescuer, she cradled Walter’s head near her heart.
Walter sputtered again, more water spewing out, and Charlotte had never been so glad to hear such a wretched sound. George and Joseph ran up to her, crowding next to Walter, uttering apologies and exclamations of every kind. Somewhere in the background she noticed Margaret giving the siblings space to help Walter. George listened for the boy’s breathing and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Together the three of them squeezed and hugged one another. After a few moments, Walter’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared back at them, dazed.
Charlotte turned her head toward Walter’s rescuer, but he was already at his horse, wiping his face with a kerchief, his jacket laid across the animal’s withers. He placed one foot in the stirrup, ready to mount again. Charlotte left Walter to the care of her brothers and walked quickly toward the man.
