Welcome to WIP Wednesday.
I’m picking up where I left off last week.
In case you’re playing catch up…
Note: This first sentence, in orange, comes from last week’s WIPpet, and it’s young Nub speaking.
“I’ll go wash.”
“Wet your hair and pull it back proper.” Conall follows me toward the house. “Wipe your shoes, brush your coat, and wash your face proper while you’re at it.”
“If I must.” I climb up the ladder to my loft. I’m lucky to have my own space, I know, but Conall’s private about things, and he has his own tiny apartment just off the main room. I saw the scar on his chest the night a wildcat got in with the chickens. It’s an ugly mark, and it’s why he can’t use his left arm that well, but he hasn’t spoken on it so I haven’t asked. Keeping quiet has its benefits. I’ve long learned this.
“Why are we going to eat there on a Wednesday anyway?” I call down as I put on my cleaner shirt. “It’ll be dark when we get back.”
“She sent word with Davy so we’re obliged to attend,” he replies, and I glance down to see him putting on that ridiculous silk cravat he overspent for. A fine gentleman, Conall is not, but he’s trying hard where the Widow Alcott’s eldest daughter, Charity, is concerned. Those two… I detest Charity as much as I like Conall. There, I said it. It’s not one bit kind, but she’s no Daughter of Liberty, what with her delicate silks, fancy hats, soft hands, and clean nails. Charity’s afraid of hard work.
Mary says Charity wouldn’t pluck a chicken to save herself from starvation, and I’m certain it’s true.
Nub’s protective of his friend, Conall, but he also claims to know the value of keeping secrets. I wonder why.