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Synopsis
There's no slavery in the Yorkshire Dales, not in 1887, not ever. But loving families use artful schemes to enslave the innocent. Twenty nine year-old Tizzie is such an innocent. She has worked herself down to skin and bones as a dairymaid on the farm of her dear brother, Jack, his gracious wife, Maggie, their three boys and one girl, Agnes. Expert at many things, though not in spotting conniving entrapment, Tizzie longs to see that young Agnes will not suffer her spinster fate. In trying to help Agnes find an education and avoid a life of drudgery in their male-dominated world, Tizzie begins to suspect and then uncover Jack and Maggie's treachery, and the family's plots to enslave and use up Agnes too. With only her wits to guide her, Tizzie tries to right years of wrongs and set Agnes free.
Excerpt
Monday, February 28th 1887.
“Never a moment,” Tizzie muttered, hurrying to the lambing pens, “always summat to do and no time to think.”
A mild couple of days followed by rain and freezing wind brought on the lambs. The boys guessed correctly, many more multiple births than the previous year, even old Tuppence had twins. Twins a ewe could manage if you watched her carefully, a job Jack gave to Tizzie. “A woman’s more patient than lads, and slow to interfere.”
Tizzie enjoyed the work. It warmed her heart to see a nervous ewe settle to two young ‘uns suckling, tails shaking, wig-wagging like poplar leaves in a breeze. It were a pleasure to hear a young ewe call to her lambs, see her nuzzling and licking both spotted faces and tucking them in close to her side. Now, as she worked, Tizzie’s thoughts wandered. Why did she feel guilty, scolding herself even, for thinking badly of her family. And how would she ever know the truth about Sam’s letter and about Johnnie Oldsby?
Wrapped in the old shepherd’s coat and her knitted bonnet, a worsted scarf covering her cheeks, wool gloves under homemade sheepskin mittens, Tizzie scrunched over iced cobbles, squelched in the mud and through grass, to the sheep barn five and six chilly times a day. Every lamb had been spared this year and eight ewes had a treddle lamb, a third lamb they could not feed, that meant eight lambs to hand feed. At least it were warm in the barn, and the mixed smells of sheep, lamb, milk, straw and cold stone pleased her nose better than the byre. There Jack h
Synopsis
There's no slavery in the Yorkshire Dales, not in 1887, not ever. But loving families use artful schemes to enslave the innocent. Twenty nine year-old Tizzie is such an innocent. She has worked herself down to skin and bones as a dairymaid on the farm of her dear brother, Jack, his gracious wife, Maggie, their three boys and one girl, Agnes. Expert at many things, though not in spotting conniving entrapment, Tizzie longs to see that young Agnes will not suffer her spinster fate. In trying to help Agnes find an education and avoid a life of drudgery in their male-dominated world, Tizzie begins to suspect and then uncover Jack and Maggie's treachery, and the family's plots to enslave and use up Agnes too. With only her wits to guide her, Tizzie tries to right years of wrongs and set Agnes free.
Excerpt
Monday, February 28th 1887.
“Never a moment,” Tizzie muttered, hurrying to the lambing pens, “always summat to do and no time to think.”
A mild couple of days followed by rain and freezing wind brought on the lambs. The boys guessed correctly, many more multiple births than the previous year, even old Tuppence had twins. Twins a ewe could manage if you watched her carefully, a job Jack gave to Tizzie. “A woman’s more patient than lads, and slow to interfere.”
Tizzie enjoyed the work. It warmed her heart to see a nervous ewe settle to two young ‘uns suckling, tails shaking, wig-wagging like poplar leaves in a breeze. It were a pleasure to hear a young ewe call to her lambs, see her nuzzling and licking both spotted faces and tucking them in close to her side. Now, as she worked, Tizzie’s thoughts wandered. Why did she feel guilty, scolding herself even, for thinking badly of her family. And how would she ever know the truth about Sam’s letter and about Johnnie Oldsby?
Wrapped in the old shepherd’s coat and her knitted bonnet, a worsted scarf covering her cheeks, wool gloves under homemade sheepskin mittens, Tizzie scrunched over iced cobbles, squelched in the mud and through grass, to the sheep barn five and six chilly times a day. Every lamb had been spared this year and eight ewes had a treddle lamb, a third lamb they could not feed, that meant eight lambs to hand feed. At least it were warm in the barn, and the mixed smells of sheep, lamb, milk, straw and cold stone pleased her nose better than the byre. There Jack h