Friend?? The country girl considered the word. She had a few friends that she saw now and then: Lilac from down the way, Wrenfly from over the way, cousin Brookfall... she hadn't seen any of them much of late, on account of them having already married. The lady was asking to be friends... but she was to serve the lady... She shrugged off the confusion, the thought too taxing for her mind to stay on top of. It was strange the lady not knowing to cook! What mother wouldn't teach her daughter such a needed task??

Feather's eyes darted about again while she bit her bottom lip. "He was a soldier," she finally volunteered, "I remember Da saying he were a soldier. But they sent him home. On account of his leg, miss. He were wounded, Da said, but they couldn't put on one of them legs that weren't a leg for whatever reason. So he came here and lives in Master and Mistress Pearsons' home." The girl paused. "They're dead, you see, miss. Only he didn't kill them, even though he's a soldier. They died almost three years ago. Master Vinegar didn't come here until a year later, which was two years ago." Her eyes narrowed with the effort of trying to recall something that happened more than a year ago. They finally focused as though she was staring at something far, far in the distance. "He does't come into town much, miss, or so my Da says. He... tends to stay on his own, quiet like. Doesn't like Master Bandleman, though. They fought about something, I remember. Now Master Vinegar takes his cart into one of the bigger towns for his chandleries and the like." The focus was gone, and Feather shrugged happily for she thought she was being of use. "Da thinks Master Vinegar ought to be married, that it's no good for a man his age to live without a wife, and my Ma told me I should find my way into his bed while I'm here, which is silly." Feather laughed at the ridiculousness of the very thought. "If I slept in his bed, where would he sleep?!"

There was a cough from the roadside, and Alderman Brown hustled his amble bulk towards the cart with his chest heaving. "Ah! Miss! Ah!" He stops before the cart, bent over with hands upon knees as he wheezed. Waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the cottage, he coughed again. "G-good new, miss! Master Vinegar'll take you in, right enough. Keep you safe, dry and fed. He's asked me to handle his accounts for him in this manner, but with night falling we should... we should get you settled! He's... ah... he's a busy man, though, so mid-days meals... er... you'll have those at our house, if you're willing. Or you can do as you like, well... of course you can, miss. A minute while I... catches me breathe, then... and I'll have your bags and such into the house." He gave another flutter of a hand wave towards his daughter. "Feather, sweets? Give your mistress a hand down and take her to Master Vinegar, would you, love?"

***

Victor closed the door behind him as he surveyed the central room, still trying to reconcile the idea of having people in his home after enjoying his solitude for some time. It wasn't that the large cottage was unkept or dirty. Far from it! Years of soldiering had left their mark upon him in many ways, including the discipline of keeping one's domicile and possessions in order. The large room of the stone cottage was dominated by fireplace and chimney that stood central and rose up through the ceiling beams; a clever design, its opposing hearths allowed for heating both sides of the room. The wider of the two sections served as a section for eating and crafting. It was homey, with a rag woven rug to keep the cold from biting the feet and simple but sturdy wooden chairs and tables; a narrow stairwell led up the second floor where the three bedrooms were located. None of them were used by Victor, though. He hadn't been up there more than a handful of times since purchasing the property. No, his bed he had wrestled himself to the far side of the fireplace. The space had originally been used for cooking and as a pantry for a large family; with himself as the only occupant, Victor easily had space to set up his sleeping arrangements to the back of the cottage while leaving the cooking area closer to the front door.

People. In the house. 

Young Feather he could dodge. Victor had nothing against her personally, but he was growing tired of her family's machinations to see him married off. Some day he might well marry still, there being dances and festivals of one sort or another nearly every moon's passing, and those celebrations often bringing in folks from outside the village or taking the village to outside folks. It wasn't unreasonable to think he might meet some woman there to take to wife. Weary as his mind was, he was simply not ready for the venture.

This lass from the city, now? That was a different matter! He knew what the gentry and nobles and well to do preferred, which was to be in charge. Victor had scars across his back from 'gentlemen' officers who asserted their dominance with lash and frame, who ordered men into the breaches to die by the hundreds so they could declare their superiority over 'gentlemen' that did the same to their rank and file. Why would he have any expectation to believe different of her?