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Catrin hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the seemingly insignificant contact her mother had had with others until she’d been with Rhys, and she was ashamed that she’d hidden behind her own discomfort for so long. Sending Beti in to speak with the merchants whenever she’d had need of their services had seemed easier, but by doing so, she’d lost her opportunity to connect with them. There might only be a week left to her with the people of Anglesey, but she was determined to make a change. “Good day to you,” she said, greeting him in Welsh.

His eyes widened, and a smile lit his smudged face. “And to you, Lady Catrin.”

Catrin and Beti dismounted, and Catrin approached the boy. “My maid and I have business with the cobbler; would you be willing to watch our horses?”

The boy’s stunned expression quickly turned to frantic nodding. “Yes, my lady.”

Catrin handed him the leather straps. “If Seren gives you any trouble, talk to him. He minds better if the person holding the reins speaks Welsh.”

“Well then, seeing as that’s all I can speak, we’ll get along fine,” the boy said.

Catrin laughed. “We shall not be long.”

She walked into the cobbler’s shop with Beti close behind. The cobbler was bent over his table, carefully tracing the sole of a shoe onto a piece of leather. At the sound of the door, he raised his head.

“Lady Catrin.” He stopped his work and bowed before continuing in stilted English. “Your boots. They ready.”

“I thank you for finishing them so quickly,” Catrin said in Welsh.

The cobbler’s face was a picture of confusion. “But of course.” He looked at her quizzically. “You understand Welsh?”

She nodded. “Forgive me. I should not have waited so long to speak to you myself.”

A wide smile lightened his work-worn features. “’Tis like having Lady Buckley back.”

Catrin swallowed the lump in her throat. She had not expected this. “You have missed her, then?”

“Of course, my lady. We all do. A lovely lady, your mother was.”

She gave him a shaky smile and accepted the newly made boots from his outstretched hands. “My thanks again,” she said, turning them over and examining the tiny stitches. “Your workmanship is outstanding.”

“If there is anything amiss with them, my lady, you know where to find me.”

“Yes.” She smiled and received another smile in return. “Good day to you.”

“And to you, my lady.”

She walked to the door, her fingers trembling slightly against the soft leather of the new boots.

At her side, Beti leaned closer. “Are you well, my lady?”

Catrin nodded. “I had not realized what I was missing, Beti. Being with these people, speaking their native tongue. ’Tis . . . ’Tis more than a reminder of how things were when my mother lived; ’tis as though she’s close by.”

Beti’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Close by and smiling, my lady.”

They rode in silence through the small town as far as the waterfront, then followed the shoreline to the harbor. The ferry Catrin had watched from the castle wall had docked and disgorged its passengers. Now two burly men were walking back and forth across the gangplank, loading heavy sacks onboard. Giving the workmen a wide berth, they continued to the end of the dock, where a familiar old man sat sorting his catch beside an upturned coracle.

“Do you know that fisherman’s name, Beti?” Catrin asked softly.

“Elfed, my lady. Your mother was wont to stop and talk to him occasionally.”

Elfed. She remembered now. His humorous tales had made her mother laugh more than once.

“Bore da, Elfed,” she said as they drew near.

The old man put a gnarled hand up to his forehead to protect his eyes from the sun. “Well now,” he said, coming to his feet and straightening stiffly. “That’s a grand Welsh greetin’, if ever I heard one. I always wondered if there weren’t more of Lady Buckley in you than you let on, my lady.” He smiled at her, exposing his missing teeth. “’Tis right good to hear yer voice.”

Catrin returned his smile. His manner was coarse, but there was no mistaking his high regard for her mother.