Last night was a moment of great rejoicing: I got my manuscript assessment back from my editor 🙌 Let the frantic restructuring begin!
Since I am elbow-deep in book revisions right now, I’ll spare you the details and instead treat you to one more chapter of The Borrowed Daughter today. (You can find the previous sneak peeks here.)
Enjoy!
The Borrowed Daughter
Chapter 4: A Trial
As the first colors of the sunrise crept through the window, Stella stared at her ceiling, her trembling hands holding the edge of her blanket. Her heart thumped in her chest as her mind looped around the same questions. Why did I go? Why did I run? What will happen to me – to all of us? How can I repay any of this?
Everlee stirred beside her. “Sissy? You up?” Her little voice cracked a bit, still thick with sleep.
Stella made an effort to gather herself before speaking, hiding her fears behind a quiet but clear voice. “I’m awake. Did you sleep all right?”
Everlee rubbed her fist in one eye. “I fink so,” she yawned. “I had a weird dream, though. I dreamed you came home real late with some guards, and you were in big trouble with Mother and Father. Then it all went dark, and the house cried itself to sleep, real quiet.”
Stella sighed. “That wasn’t a dream. Or if it was, I had the same one and haven’t been able to sleep since.”
Everlee sat up and gasped. “They gonna send you to the castle? Put you in the – in that room in the ... ooh, what is it? That fing in the basemen’?”
Sitting up as well, Stella shushed her sister. Mother and Father remained sound asleep, so Stella exhaled with relief. “The dungeon? I hope not.” She pushed her wispy hair back from her face. “I mean, I don’t think they will – Dobbins would’ve taken me away last night if they were gonna lock me up.”
“But won’t the – ”
Stella waved a hand downward; Everlee lowered her voice again. “Won’t those guards tack you if you don’t go?”
“Oh my, no – they were upset, but they wouldn’t hurt me.”
Everlee shook her head, squinching up her face. “No, not uh-tack you ... tack you. Like, make you pay money you don’t have?”
Stella chuckled. “Oh, tax me. Umm ... ” She glanced again toward her parents’ bed; Father snorted a snore, and Mother shifted around. They’ll be up any minute now. “They might tax Mother and Father for ... for what happened.” She pressed her lips together at the memory, forcing herself to meet Everlee’s big green eyes. “But I won’t let that happen.”
With that, Stella flung the covers off her legs and slid to the floor. She still had on her outfit from the night before; soot freckled her faded yellow dress, and she smelled faintly of smoke. A twinge vibrated through her belly.
Mother took a deep breath in through her nose, then groaned. “Up already, girls?” She grunted as she stretched, her eyes still closed. “How about a few more minutes, ok?”
“OK, Mother,” Stella said, quietly pulling on her socks and shoes. Once she stood, she glanced back at Everlee and held a finger to her lips. Everlee nodded, pinching her mouth closed into a little duck bill.
Tiptoeing toward the door, Stella took a long stride over the creaky floorboard by the wash basin, holding her breath. Once she was clear of it, she continued creeping toward the front door. She reached for the handle slowly, as if it were a bird she didn’t want to startle.
BUMM BUMM BUMM! The door shuddered with the solid thumps of someone’s fist outside.
Stella gasped, jumping back. Everlee squealed, pulling the covers over her head.
“What in the – ?” Father growled, swiping toward the wall for his sword.
Mother sat up, putting an arm across Father to calm him down. “Merrick, it’s the door. Someone’s knocking.”
Father stopped reaching for his weapon. “At this hour?” He sat up and faced the door, one eye screwed shut. “Stella? What are you doing over there?”
“I ... I was ... going to answer the door.”
Some muffled voices argued on the other side of the door. Everyone in the house turned their eyes toward the sound. Another series of knocks followed, this time a gentle rapping. “Mr. and Mrs. Sunter, so sorry to bother you,” a familiar voice said. “We’ve come to discuss last evening.”
The thin man’s face formed in Stella’s memory: Mr. Banyon. No doubt his friend Dobbins was out there too, rubbing the side of his hand from pounding on the door a moment ago.
Mother and Father exchanged looks, his annoyed, hers pleading. Father clenched his jaw. “Hold on, we’re coming.”
“No rush,” Mr. Banyon replied lightly, then began to whistle a bright tune. After a moment, Dobbins tried to join the melody, whistling tunelessly along.
Muffled sobs came from under the blanket on Stella’s bed. Mother threw on her robe and shuffled over to Everlee to coax her out from under the covers. “It’s ok, dove. Some people are just here to talk.”
“They’re gonna take Sissy away!” Everlee bawled.
Father stood, buttoning a jerkin over his nightshirt. Both his eyes were open now as he looked down at Stella, and it was like he noticed her for the first time. “Why’ve you got your shoes on already?”
She looked down, blushing. “I must’ve slept in them,” she fibbed, keeping her eyes low as she stood. “I was awful tired last night.”
“No doubt.” Father walked toward the door. On his way there, he paused, then put his hand on Stella’s shoulder. Staring down at her, his lined face resembled a harsh mask. He clenched his jaw, which he always did before scolding her. She braced herself.
But instead, Father knelt down and brought his gaze level with hers. “You’re scared,” he said, his voice firm but calm. She met his eyes. His expression had shifted, his jaw loose, cheeks smoother, his eyebrows tented with concern. “I am too. No matter what happened, we – we’ll find a way to sort this all out.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze.
A tear threatened to sneak out from the corner of her eye, but Stella sniffled it back. Nodding, she offered him a tight smile, even though her belly was turning circus flips.
Surveying the room to make sure everyone was ready, Father nodded. Then he pulled the door open, just as Dobbins was raising his red meaty fist to knock again.
“Good morrow, Mr. Dobbins and Mr ... Banyon, was it?” Father said, straining to keep his voice calm. “I know we mentioned sorting things out at daybreak, but we didn’t expect to be quite so close to dawn.”
Dobbins glowered at the comment, but Banyon endured it with a tight grin. “Yes, of course,” Banyon replied. “We apologize for calling again so early, but our shift ends soon, and we didn’t want to pass this matter along to the daytime watchmen unresolved.”
Mother shuffled over next to Father, drawing her robe tight across her front. “We appreciate the time you’ve given us to rest, but we haven’t yet had the opportunity to discuss as a family what to do about Stella.”
“That’s just it!” Banyon pointed his index finger up excitedly. “We know exactly what to do with her!”
Dobbins frowned. “We do?”
“We do!” Banyon exclaimed. Then the lean man turned back to them, wetting his lips before speaking. “What if,” he began slowly, “Miss Stella here got a job?”
“A job?” Father almost choked on the word. “Wh – doing what? Stealing and running around town, lighting fires?”
“That’s not what I had in mind.” Mr. Banyon seemed terribly amused by himself this morning, but he attempted to look serious now, clasping his hands at waist. “As you know, your daughter is fleet of foot, and she knows her way around town quite well – better than us, I’d wager.” He attempted to include Dobbins in the remark with a light chuckle, but it was too early for mirth.
Banyon cleared his throat and continued. “We have several young people who run messages around the village, but we could use more.” He spread his arms, palms up. “She’d be helping the town out, and she’d bring home a little money for her troubles.” He gave her a friendly wink, which sent a warm tingle curling around her belly.
A job? The thought sent a different wave of emotion through Stella’s stomach, a queasy feeling that soured the tingle. I’m just a kid! she told herself, chewing her lip. But how else can I make up last night?
Stella’s mom frowned down at her. “I don’t know,” she said, putting an arm around Stella. “Having a job is a big responsibility – your father works all day as it is, and my hands are full tending to you girls – ”
“Exactly,” Stella’s father interjected. “We’ve had a scant five hours of sleep, and we were just now stirred from our beds to answer the door. Now you’re asking us to sign our daughter over to the town watch?”
Banyon huffed a gentle laugh. “If we gave such an impression as that, sir, I firmly apologize,” he said, hand on his heart. “Messengers work for the mail service, so they’d be overseeing Stella’s work – should she choose to agree. We’re suggesting more of an ... informal arrangement. A trial run.”
After scanning the confused faces around him, Banyon pressed his lips together and nodded. “Allow me to explain.” He reached inside his coat and took out a roll of yellowed paper, tied with a blue ribbon. “Every day, we have to deliver a report to Master Clark about the night’s events. He records that summary in his official book, and he ... puts the book on a dusty shelf somewhere, I’d wager.” He chuckled, but was once again the only person amused.
Dobbins crossed his arms, looking down the street as if he had a pressing appointment anywhere else but here.
“If Stella would be so inclined,” Banyon continued, “she could run this letter up to the town hall for us, to save a couple of old men a whole lot of steps.” This time he aimed his grin toward Dobbins, who let his arms drop and frowned less. “That way,” he explained, looking back at the Sunters, “she can see if she minds running messages about, and she’ll get a fair coin for it.” With his free hand, he fished a small copper from his purse. Smiling broadly now, he held up both items. “Then, my partner and I can be on our way,” he added, his tone and eyebrows rising, “over to Lady Grennett’s, where we can explain how the town watch is fully on top of resolving last evening’s ... unpleasantness.”
It took a moment for that last part to click in Stella’s mind, but it detonated in Dobbins’s brain right away.
“Wot?!” The fat man’s arms flew up. “Wh – why would we – would I – after what she – – this is not my – I won’t do it!” His ruddy face had shifted to a purplish hue, spittle spraying as he seethed.
Stella’s whole body prickled with sweat, and she pressed herself close to her father’s side, awash with fear and shame and confusion. Her dad put an arm around her, but none of her family said anything – not even Everlee, who was usually reliable for some silly remark to lighten uncomfortable moods like this.
It was Mr. Banyon who responded first, his voice calm but firm. “Come now, friend,” he said to Dobbins, lowering the coin and letter. “The Lady’s manor is directly on the way home for you – won’t cost you an extra stride. And surely,” he added, leaning close and elbowing his partner’s meaty shoulder, “you’d like to give Lady Grennett the good news, considering what a staunch supporter she’s been of the town watch these past several years?”
A strange creaking noise arose from Dobbins’s throat. He sank back to his flat feet, his arm lowering to his side. He tugged at the bottom of his vest as he turned to face the Sunters. His purplish complexion lightened to a more natural hue, and the first hint of a smile spread across his paunchy face.
“Now that you mention it,” he croaked, “I wouldn’t mind passin’ along the good news to Lady Grennett, if Miss Stella here took care of that bit o’ paperwork on our behalf.” He waved one hand about, attempting to lighten the mood with a flick of the wrist and a strained laugh. “Me and me partner here, we’ll jus’ ... ” He widened his eyes at Banyon and jerked his head sideways.
Banyon waved the letter and coin toward Stella. “What say you, Lady Stella? Do we have a deal?”
She twisted her gaze up to her father’s face. He gave her a friendly frown. She looked past him to Mother and Everlee. Mother smiled warmly, echoing Father’s “it’s up to you” look.
Everlee dropped the edge of her blanket and popped up on her knees. “Will somebody answer so I can get some breakfas’ aroun’ here?”
Chuckling, Stella faced Banyon and exhaled. “Deal.” She plucked the letter and the coin from his fingers, tucking the first in her belt and handing the second to her father. “Don’t spend it all in one place,” she teased.
He held the coin up. “I will keep it safe until you get back,” he swore. “But as soon as you do, I’m running down the street to get my favorite candy ‘round the corner!”
They all laughed at that, even Dobbins, who was edging away now. He raised a hand in farewell, mumbling something as he backed down the street.
Rather than retreating, Banyon stepped up on the stoop, leaning an arm on his knee as he addressed Stella. “Just a quick trip to the town hall – Master Clark will be expecting the letter. Simply tell him we sent you, and he’ll take care of the rest. You’ll be back before your breakfast cools off.” He raised his eyebrows playfully.
She nodded solemnly, a smiling tugging at the corners of her mouth.
With an approving nod, Banyon stepped back. “Thank you all,” he said with a parting wave. “You’re a lovely family, but I hope to never see you again!”
Another ripple of laughter bubbled through the house. The afterglow of mirth lingered after Father closed the door and everyone sighed in relief. Mother stood up from bed and urged Everlee to get dressed. Father headed to the kitchen to rekindle the hearthfire for breakfast. Their normal morning routines resumed.
Stella almost totally relaxed then, but when she went to sit down, the corner of the letter dug into her hip. She stiffened. “Oh ... right.” She pulled the roll of paper from her belt, forcing a grin. “Nothing like a morning jog to work up an appetite.”