Free Beyond Reason by Gwen Kirkwood

making Janet flinch and huddle closer to Molly, but Molly seemed to be too miserable and forlorn to offer any comfort to her one-time friend.
    After the chill of the wind, Janet appreciated the warmth and noise of the big, flag-floored kitchen at Braeheights. There was a baby crawling around the floor and a toddler trying to climb onto a stool. He was only slightly bigger than his younger sibling and she learned later there was only ten months between them. An older boy stared solemnly at her. Then she saw Mistress Foster gazing at her in dismay. She looked at her husband, her eyes full of questions.
    ‘I’ve brought ye a maid,’ he growled. ‘She’s the old dominie’s granddaughter so that should please ye, ye and your education.’
    ‘A maid? The dominie’s wee lass canna be our maid! And she’s only a bairn forbye. How old are ye, lassie?’
    ‘Twelve. And a half,’ she added hastily. ‘Nearly….’
    ‘Just a bairn,’ she said sadly, ‘not even as big as our Molly….’ She glanced at her daughter and noted her wan face; her eyes dull and downcast. Her own heart sank within her. Surely he had not been at Molly next? Her gaze moved to her husband. He wouldn’t – would he…? An idea occurred as she stared at the two young girls. A determined glint came into her eyes. She turned to Janet.
    ‘We’ll see how you get on, lassie. Ye can sleep with our Molly. At least ye’ll be company for each other, and maybe ye’ll—’
    ‘No!’ Foster snarled. ‘She’ll sleep in the maids’ room. Where the maids always sleep. Through there.’ He looked at Janet and jerked his head to a door at the far side of the kitchen beneath the slope of the staircase, which led to rooms above. His wife scowled at him but she could not hold his hard stare. Her shoulders slumped. She guessed the truth. Her heart ached for her eldest child. ‘Show her then, Molly. Where’s your bundle, lass? Have ye left it in the trap?’
    ‘N-no, ma’am. I came straight from the kirk….’ She looked at Mr Foster for help.
    ‘Molly can lend her some aprons. I’ll collect her ain things on Friday when I fetch the lads frae your mother’s.’
    ‘I see….’ Mrs Foster pursed her lips and turned towards her husband, hands on hips. Janet saw her swollen stomach and stared at the misshapen figure with sympathy. She did not understand then that Mistress Foster was soon to deliver yet another child to Braeheights Farm.
    In the tiny room both Molly and Janet could hear the ensuing exchange.
    ‘What possessed ye tae bring a lassie like that here? She’s just a bairn—’
    ‘Whisht, woman! She’ll grow. Anyway, frae what I hear she’d nowhere else to go. She’ll be grateful for her food and a roof over her head, more grateful than your little madam—’ he added through gritted teeth.
    ‘Molly’s a good lass, or she was until … until….’ She swallowed the words with an effort. ‘Are ye never satisfied? It was bad enough ye taking auld Abe’s lassie, then the maid frae o’er Dumfries way. Now ye’re trying to make my ain bairn into a – into a—’
    ‘Maid!’ Foster bellowed. ‘You needed a maid, you said. Now you’ve got twae. I’ll have nae more grumbling, or refusing me my rights. Where’s the dinner, woman? I could eat a horse after the drive down to the kirk and back.’
    ‘But … you canna expect a lass like that to do farm work! Even if she’d been full grown….’
    ‘If she wants tae eat she’ll work all right, and everything else she’s asked tae dae, or my name’s no’ Wull Foster. There’s rumours going round the parish that the new dominie put the lassie and her mother out into the road, though naebody seemed tae ken the reason. Miserable-looking critter he is. The lass will be better off under my roof.’
    ‘Will she?’ Mistress Foster muttered. ‘I wonder.’
    In the small maid’s room off the kitchen, Janet had listened to this exchange with alarm, unable to understand the innuendoes, the