Part 1: In The Barn
Brigid is in the milk pen the first time she sees him. Her hands are on Moolly's udders, her bottom is on the stool, and the pen door is just open enough that she can see into the barn proper.
This has been her chore for as long as she can remember. Papa assigned it to her when she was younger, along with feeding the chickens, collecting the eggs, and watching over the sheep. She is young, yes, but she knows how important she is to the upkeep of this small home. For all the manual labor, her days at the Greenmark estate are peaceful enough.
In he waltzes-- or, rather, falls-- with a dinky wooden sword tucked into his leather belt. He's gangly as if he was suddenly thrust into some growth spurt he hasn't quite accustomed himself to. His mid-length hair touches the top of his shoulders; his brown skin is covered by a loose linen shirt, breeches; his leather shoes are plain.
He falls through a gap in the loft, taking straw and hay with him, down into a pile meant for feeding.
In one fluid movement, he hops up from the ground.
"Can I help you?" she asks. Brigid is shocked by the way that her voice rises an octave; it's the same effect as when she speaks to Lord Greenmark when he visits the stables or the barn. It's never that high when she's speaking to Papa or to Jane down in the kitchen.
"I don't know, can you?" He smirks at her.
"Probably not." Brigid looks away and goes back to milking Moolly. "I don't know who you are or what you're doing here, but you should probably leave before Lord Greenmark learns of your presence."
"He already knows I'm here. He and my father, Lord Montida, are currently speaking."
Brigid wants to snap back at him, but she bites her tongue. "Oh. I'm sorry. I should have--"
"No, it's okay. You can apologize by coming out to the field with me and showing me around. I'm here for a few weeks and I want to aquaint myself with the grounds."
"I-- I'm not sure about that," she confesses.
"Emmon!"
Brigid recognizes her father's voice resonating from the open doors of the barn. It's deep, husky, and tinged with a worry she knows well. She stands up from her milking stool and peeks over the top of the stall. She is not the only one perking up; the boy straightens up in a semblance of something close to fear.
The gist of it is this: Emmon ran off, leaving Papa behind, and now Papa wants Brigid to watch over him. Papa and Jane will take care of her chores (except for the chickens) until Emmon leaves.
She doesn't like it, but she knows that she doesn't have to. Brigid doesn't have a choice.
Part 2: The Creek
On his third morning at the Greenmark estate, Emmon wakes up early and pulls on his clothes. He has fallen into a routine here. He wakes with the sun, packs a lunch of food snuck from the kitchen (bread laced with cheese, two oranges, and a bit of dried meat), and goes through the servant's door to meet Brigid.
Every morning, he is struck by how beautiful she is. He has seen plenty of beautiful women-- he has been to galas and operas, clinging to his father's tailcoats or his mother's hands-- but there is something about Brigid that he can't quite place.
Maybe it's in the way that she speaks only kind words to the animals, but not to him. She doesn't bite her tongue on their mornings together, walking through the woods. On some days, she curses when her skirt or apron snags on long, thin branches in the woods.
She treats him like a person. In her eyes, he isn't something to be feared or coddled. He is a boy her age and she treats him as such.
And he appreciates it.
In the afternoon, they reach a creek at the edge of Lord Greenmark's property. Brigid gives him a wicked grin, slips off her shoes, and dips her feet into the water. "Scared, Em?"
"Oh, absolutely not!" He peels off his own leather shoes and puts his feet in the water. It's jarringly cold. The rocks under his feet are slick with algae. Emmon audibly yells.
Brigid snickers and points at him. In retaliation, he reaches into the water and flicks some up at her.
In the aftermath-- linen shirt soaked, shoulders shivering-- he thinks he feels something for her. It's a deep, throbbing pain in his chest. As a water-drenched Brigid climbs out of the creek and tugs her shoes back on, he can't help but wonder: is this the beginning of some strange sort of love?
Part 3: Rainfall
Brigid can't hold back a shiver as she trudges back to the estate in her soaked skirts. The water fight wasn't her idea, but she was happy to participate. Something about his shock at the coldness of the water... She couldn't place it.
Rain begins to fall overhead; the two of them seek shelter in the barn as lightning cracks overhead. It's the closest place, next to the chicken coop. The manor house is farther away, up the hill. They would never make it safely.
The two of them sit on the hay and giggle at the lowing of Moolly, who is whining at the rain.
"This is your fault," Emmon laughs.
"Well, you started it!"
The night is spent in sweet conversation and laughter. Is there something more there? Is this the beginning of some sort of a first love? Brigid can't tell, but she falls asleep holding his hand and that is enough for her.
