"How old are the children she's cared for? " the man asked, his eyes fixed on Gerald, not Eliza. She felt oddly grateful for that. Oh, all ages, Gerald improvised wildly. Babes to near grown. She's got away with them, you understand.
Natural instinct. I asked her, the man said quietly, and now his eyes did shift to Eliza. Not you. The square went utterly silent. No one spoke to Gerald Morland that way.
Not in public. Not when he was already humiliated by having to sell his daughter like livestock, but Gerald surprisingly shut his mouth. Well, miss. The tall man's voice was gentle, but there was steel underneath it. How old were the children you've cared for?
Eliza's throat was dry. She hadn't expected to be asked a direct question, hadn't prepared for actual conversation. My brother Thomas, she managed, her voice rough from disuse. I helped raise him from when he was born until he was old enough for school. He's 16 now.
The man nodded slowly. Just the one, then? Yes, sir. Just the one? She paused, then added.
But I helped at the church sometimes. Father Martinez would bring children from families that were struggling. I'd watch them during services, keep them quiet and fed. Ages? Young ones?
Mostly, walking to about 8 years old. The man was quiet for a long moment, studying her with those winter sky eyes. Eliza felt herself being assessed, measured, but not in the way the other men in the crowd had looked at her. He wasn't evaluating her hips or her face or her potential for warming a bed. He was looking at something else, something she couldn't quite define.
"She can't have children," Gerald interjected, clearly worried that this potential buyer was losing interest. I want to be clear about that so there's no dispute later. The midwives confirmed it after 3 years of marriage produced nothing. If you're looking for a woman to give you sons, you'll need to look elsewhere. I have sons, the man said simply.
Five children total. Their mother died 16 months ago. Influenza. A wave of understanding rippled through the crowd. Several women made sympathetic noises.