'Don't look, Lillian. Never look into the eyes of a Sin-Eater, you will be as cursed as he is and will forever languish in darkness.'
Lillian Elmes remembers the warning her mother gave her about the town's Sin-Eater only too well.
How could she n...
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The sun shines on the Long Mynd today, as if the valley is gilded in sparkling gold and the stream that runs down behind our home is molten silver, babbling excitedly as it rushes over the lichen-caked rocks. The wind has been decidedly blustery these past few days, but it's a crisp, cold wind that reddens the cheeks and compliments the sharp blue skies and sunlight. It is one of those days that adds a spring to the step, not only because of fine weather, but because my heart is gladdened that I have been able to visit with Lizzie.
With the Hawkstones' plot uncovered and Papa's influence with the judge ensuring Lizzie's prompt release from Shelton, she now recovers from her ordeal, and resides at the Darborough estate, under the kind and gentle care of Mr. Darborough's wife. Mr. Darborough himself, who was found unconscious and locked away in the cellar at Lutwyche, resides there too, but has insisted they should offer Lizzie some respite, mayhap because he considers them both to be victims of the Hawkstones' terrible plot.
Lizzie, while still terribly affected by her experiences, has some spark back in her eyes and some colour in her cheeks again, and it has warmed me greatly today to see her smile once again. She talks not of the future now – for it is too soon for her to think on her plans and ambitions – but of the beauty she finds in each day, of how fortunate she feels to see the sunshine through the windows of the Darborough's conservatory which looks out on their extensive and well-tended gardens. She talks of the stench of Mr. Darborough's pipe with some light derision, and how he complains every day that his wife refuses to let him at his favourite bottle of brandy. She talks of how much she enjoys Jenny's company and how the girl has gifted her with the most beautiful scarves to cover her head until her hair grows back.
'I might not grow it all back after all,' she said today, with a mischievous glint in her eyes that reminded me of the Lizzie I know. 'A woman with short hair! Can you imagine, Lily dear?'
'I can imagine a great many things for you, Elizabeth Jane Darby. And whether your hair is short or long, this world will be a much brighter place when you are ready to fly free from your cage again.'
'Oh Lily, do you think I can?' she had said.
'As sure as the wind that blows through the Mynd.'
