They laughed for a while, but then Lily’s expression sobered. She said, “I am starting to wonder if the doctor I saw in Rome might have been right about my problem.”

“The wee mannie who said you had to choose between art and childbearing?” Jennet snorted.

“No, that’s not what he said, not exactly.” Lily sat up a little straighter. “He said that if I insisted on painting I wouldn’t be able to carry a child to term. Since Italy I’ve only used charcoal and pencil and ink, no paints of any kind because I didn’t want the smell in Ma’s parlor. It’s probably just a coincidence.” But the look she sent Hannah’s way said she didn’t believe this herself.

“There are herbals and medicines enough that interfere with a healthy pregnancy,” Hannah said. “Dittany. Black cohosh. Vervain and rue. There might be something in paint.”

Lily’s expression was pained. “Do you really think—”

“It could be,” Hannah said.

Lily’s high color faded a little. “I may have to write and tell him he was right,” she said. “If all goes well in the end.”

“No need,” said Jennet. “The idea that he might have been wrong would never occur to him.”

“Well then,” Lily said slowly. “If I seem so healthy to you, and there’s no sign of trouble—do you think I might be able to … walk around, at least a bit? A few minutes every day?”

“We’ll put the question to Curiosity and your ma this evening,” Hannah said. “You’ll have to win them over.”

Lily collapsed back and blew out a breath so that the curls at her temples jumped. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Jennet sat up straighter to look out the window. “Who is that coming? One of the LeBlanc girls, but which one?”

Hannah stood up to see. “Alice.”

“Alice LeBlanc?” Lily’s tone was half amusement, half doubt.

“It is odd,” Hannah said.

“Och,” Jennet said. “Is she the one who’s so angry that Martha got Daniel?”

“She is,” Hannah said. “Good thing Martha isn’t here. I’ll go see what Sour Apples wants.”

Alice was the prettiest of the LeBlanc girls, but she had earned her unflattering nickname. When Hannah’s daughters asked her why Alice was called Sour Apples, Hannah had reminded them of one of Elizabeth’s sayings: Pretty is as pretty does. There were many such expressions Elizabeth had brought over with her from England; this was one that made sense to Hannah.

It was one of the mysteries of life, how children born and raised in the same family could turn out so different from each other and from both parents too. Becca was one of the kindest and most generous women Hannah knew, but she was also very gruff. Alice had only got the gruff. The six LeBlanc girls were a mix that always took her by surprise, like coming across a white cat with a litter of kittens every color of the rainbow, from black to ginger to calico. It made sense to Hannah that Alice had it hard, the first girl after six boys, but why she held on to that resentment though it did her only harm, that was unclear.

Now Alice was coming on at a good clip, her frown focused on the ground at her feet. Then she caught sight of Hannah on the porch and her expression shifted from preoccupation to worry.

She called out, “I’ve been looking for you all over.”

Hannah owed Alice LeBlanc no explanations, and so she cut right to the heart of the matter.

“Somebody hurt?”

Alice took a moment to catch her breath. “No,” she said. “Sick. A lady in one of our rooms, she’s been vomiting since last night.”

“Is she in pain?”

“Belly cramps,” Alice said.

Something was off about this, but Hannah couldn’t put a finger on it. She said, “Good of you to come up here with word.”

Alice’s mouth turned down at the corner and she looked more herself. “Everybody else is at the games, and Ma’s busy in the kitchen. It was me or nobody. If you don’t care to come—”

“I’ll be there,” Hannah said coolly. “Start straight down and I’ll follow you in ten minutes.”

The truth was, she didn’t mind being called out. Things had been very quiet in Paradise since the flood. Sore ears, a few broken bones easily set, two deliveries, fever teas. She considered the ailments that might account for the symptoms that Alice described, which was most likely nothing more than indigestion that camomile tea could put right.

Jennet dismissed her reservations about leaving them with a wave of the hand. “I can get to the kitchen when Simon wakes, and I imagine Elizabeth will be back soon, anyway. We’re fine, aren’t we, Lily?”

“More than,” Lily said, yawning. “There’s no reason to worry about us.”

Hannah had her bag with her—she always did, these days—and so it was just a matter of tying a kerchief over her hair and washing her hands. Then she dashed down the hillside on a deer path that would take her to the Red Dog by the back way. It was a sensible precaution, because if any of the little people caught sight of her it would be next to impossible to resist their pleas that she come watch the foot races or bob for apples or buy them sweets. Just now she didn’t have the time, but if this visit didn’t take too long she could spend an hour with them.

She had just come around the corner to the back of the Red Dog when somebody caught her by the elbow and swung her around and up against a wall.