It was twelve-year-old Betsy’s thirteenth birthday today. As the youngest daughter, she and been fussed over by her mother and her two elder sisters. It was thought she would be the last child, so she was given special attention until George surprisingly came along, and as the male heir, reigned supreme.

But the sisters paid little attention to George. The three were a tight-knit unit unto themselves. They took their lessons from Nanny Wilkes together, fussed over each other’s hair and dresses, and sequestered themselves in their wing of the house away from the adults.

Betsy was the only sister to give any attention to Lucy, the newest addition to the family. Ann and Charlotte resented her, but Betsy, who liked to read, took an interest in her when Lucy asked Betsy to help her with reading.

Soon Lucy and Betsy were reading the same books and discussing whatever they were reading.

Betsy had fair hair like her mother and brother. She was a little plump, but it was considered baby fat and would soon disappear when she reached puberty. Sweet-tempered and studious, she was turning from the company of her sisters and seeking out Lucy more and more, and even from her brother who was developing his intense interest in drawing, painting, and the study of art.

There was to be a birthday party at tea time in the library. Ann and Charlotte had already dressed themselves in their party dresses and had turned their attention to Betsy.

It seemed that Betsy had grown an inch to two since she had last worn her party dress and it was tight across the shoulders, and the hem was above her ankles.

“Oh, no. This just will not do,” Charlotte said, standing back and examining the hapless Betsy. She twiddled her fingers as she thought. “I know, I have just the thing in my armoire. It is a dress I have outgrown, and it would be just perfect for you.”

She dashed to her armoire and pawed through her selection of dresses, finally pulling one out.

“What do you think about this?” she asked Betsy as she held it up before her.

It was a yellow dress with lace, ribbons, and frills—not at all to Betsy’s simple taste.

Betsy made a face. “Oh, Charlotte… it is dreadful. It looks like a mangled daisy.

Charlotte pouted and put the dress away.

Charlotte at thirteen, generally seemed distracted, dreamy, and in a world of her own. With auburn hair, and soft, gentle features she was considered the loveliest of the three, although her mother would never tell her that in front of the others.

“Then what are we to do?” Ann asked, folding her arms across her chest and studying her newly sprouted younger sister.

“Do you have anything amongst your dresses?” Charlotte asked.

“Everything I have would be too big for her,” Ann said, but then had a thought. “Wait. There might be one dress that will do.”

She scrummaged around at the bottom of her dresser and pulled out a dress that had been folded up. She shook it out and held it up for Betsy’s examination.

“There, what do you think about this?” she asked beaming.

Betsy leaned her head to the side as she studied it. “It looks like a flour sack,” she said with disdain.

Charlotte threw her hands up in the air. “Then what is to be done?”

There was a knock at the door, and Lucy appeared with a dress draped across her outstretched arms.

“What are you doing in this part of the house?” Charlotte demanded. “Servants should not appear unless called.”

“I was sent, Miss Charlotte,” Lucy said.

“Hello, Lucy,” Betsy said, happy to see her friend.

“George asked me to bring this to you,” Lucy said holding up the dress and offering it to Betsy. “He said it is his birthday present to you.”

“Why did he not bring it himself?” Ann asked. “Is he using you as his personal servant now?” Ann asked with a mean chuckle.

“His Grace has taken George with him into town on some business, and George wanted you to have this in plenty of time for the party.”

Betsy smiled. “It is beautiful, Lucy. I love it! George is such a wonderful brother.”

It had only been a few months since Lucy started living at Grayson Manor, and already she had fairly well acclimatized to her new situation. A week after living at Grayson there had been a short memorial service for the lost Brighton family members in the Manor chapel—attended mostly by other tenant farmers and His Grace, David, and George who were there to comfort Lucy. After the ceremony, Lucy was quiet for a few days but her natural exuberance soon returned, and she was once again totally immersed in her new life. Lucy was given a bed in one of the kitchen maid’s rooms. She was also expected to be in the kitchen at five o’clock in the morning to help with breakfast and lunch. However, Mrs. Mead let her slip away in the afternoon to study with George.

To Nanny Wilkes’ surprise, Lucy was mastering her classes, unlike any student Nanny Wilkes had ever seen before. Even her brightest student, George, was outshone by this young girl. But that was more because of George’s lack of interest in many of the academic subjects than from his lack of intelligence.

Because they studied in the classroom together, George and Lucy were forming an even closer bond. Each day Nanny Wilkes gave them assignments to prepare for the next day, and they often stayed together after class to discuss the day’s studies and to work together on their assignments.

However, George sometimes neglected his assigned studies and turned to his drawing instead—using either pencil or charcoal. But he often complained to Lucy that he longed to work with color, but so far, his parents had not allowed him the use of oil paints, hoping to discourage him from his artistic pursuits.

But today there were no classes as it was Betsy’s birthday, and everyone had a day free from the classroom.

Nanny Wilkes was in charge of decorations for the party, and Mrs. Mead was preparing the food. When George returned from town with his father, he immediately rushed to the schoolroom where he had his drawing materials. He was surprised to find Lucy sprawled out on the floor with several books open in front of her.

“What are you doing here when there is no school?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same,” Lucy said looking up at him with a grin.

“I came to draw. And you?”

“I was studying my history book. I am not very good at that. But then I found this book,” she said picking up one of the open books. It is all about the Renaissance, and I got a really good idea.”

“What is that?”

“It is to be a surprise. But I know you are going to like it.”

“Tell me now,” George insisted.

“Not now. It is time for Betsy’s party. Come.” she insisted as she got up off the floor and took George’s hand. “And she liked your present, by the way.”

“Yes, I thought she might. She always complains to me that all she ever gets to wear is hand-me-downs from her sisters and never anything new for herself.”

“Like me,” Lucy said with a touch of sadness.

“I would talk to Mother about that, but she is not very giving when it comes to you.” George thought for a moment. “I am afraid you will have to make do for the time being. I do not know about buying clothes for girls—except for party dresses—and besides, my allowance is very small.”

“That is all right. And besides, we have a party to go to right now.”

Judith always said she had no preference for any of her children—they were all equal to her. But nobody believed her. Of course, George was the little prince, but to her, the little princess was Ann, her first child. They were also much alike in temperament, and this afternoon at the birthday party they were sitting next to each other passing whispered comments to one another like conspirators.

In particular, the two often conspired against Lucy, considering her an outsider. Much to the conspirators’ displeasure, the entire rest of the family appeared to be under the thrall of this cunning waif, and unfortunately, arrayed against them. But there was nothing they could do about it as his Grace was adamant in his support of Lucy. They also noted that George absolutely doted on her and would never hear an unkind word against her. How it galled the united mother and daughter.

Nanny Wilkes was hopelessly trying to organize some party games in the library where the party was being held, but no one seemed the least bit interested. Betsy kept eyeing the table with her birthday presents. Ann was sequestered to the side of the room with her mother, and Charlotte, who had just had a spurt in growth and sprouted a fresh array of spots on her face, cowered in the corner to avoid the crowd of neighborhood children invited to the party.

Only George and Lucy interacted with the guests. Finally, Nanny Wilkes was able to organize a game of Cock-a-Roosty—a rowdy game where an “it” player stands before the group, and each player must try and get past “it” to home. But everyone has to hop on one leg.

The noise level increased manyfold, and Grandfather David was forced to retreat to the seclusion and peace of his quarters. His Grace escaped to his study, and Judith and Ann looked on with disapproving pinched faces.

Eventually, Betsy was allowed to open her presents, most of which were books—which she liked, undergarments—which embarrassed her, and a saddle from her father and mother—which perplexed her, as she seldom rode and had a perfectly suitable saddle already. Maybe it was a hint for her to get outdoors more.

A cake was presented; the guests were fed, and before long, parents were whisking their children away in carriages, carts, and on horseback.

With so much food so late in the afternoon, there was no thought of a sit-down supper, and if anyone was hungry later in the evening, trays could be brought from the kitchen.

The Duchess was the first of the family to rise and say as she clapped, “That is the end of the party. Betsy, make certain your presents are taken to your room. We must leave the library in the condition we found it before the party.” She turned then to Lucy and said, “And you help clean up. It seems you have done nothing useful all afternoon.”

Ann stood next to her mother, and the two marched out of the library together. Charlotte followed with her head bowed. Betsy looked at her presents and sighed, before searching for a chambermaid to help her remove the loot to her room. She did not want to call upon her friend, Lucy, to help her, despite what her mother had just said. Nanny Wilkes had disappeared after the games and only George and Lucy were left. They were seated on a window seat overlooking the rolling hills of the valley.

It had been only a couple of months since the fire and Lucy, her head leaning against the window frame asked, “Do you think I could go back to see my house?”

George was surprised by her question and said, “I believe Father has sent some of his staff over there to see about rebuilding. After all, it is an active tenancy, and he wants it to put it to good use.”

Lucy lowered her eyes and quietly asked, “Was anyone found after the fire?”

George’s sympathy was aroused, and he answered, “Oh, Lucy, the fire was much too intense. I was told there was nothing to recover except for ashes, pieces of metal, and a few crockery pieces. I am so sorry.”

Lucy turned her head and looked out the window, but not before George saw tears appearing in her eyes.

“I would still like to go back to see for myself.”

“I will take you over on my horse sometime soon.”

Lucy crouched before the foundation of her home. The debris had been cleared away, and there were indications that workmen had started rebuilding, but there was no one working there at the moment. George stood by a large tree and waited silently for her to pay her respects.

Lucy had a stick in her hand, scribbled something in the earth, and then wiped it away with the palm of her hand. After some moments of silence, she stood up and went over to George and asked, “Are your parents going to make me come back to live here after the house is rebuilt?”

George had to laugh. “No, they are going to find new tenants. They want the property to be productive and will need more than you to get what they want.”

She nodded. “Good. I do not want to come back.” Then she took hold of his hand and smiling said, “There are some things I want to show you. It is the surprise I promised you.”

George was relieved she had finished here, as it made him uncomfortable to think about his friend losing her family in such a terrible way.

“Fine. Where do we start?” he asked.

“Over there,” Lucy said, pointing toward the stream.

They walked along the stream’s bank; Lucy with head down examining the stream bed and bank, several times poking with her stick. Finally, she stopped and began digging with her fingers.

“Here, see this?” she asked as she held up some yellow clay.

“What is that?” George asked.

“It is for the colors you want to paint with.”

George was astonished. “What? How am I to paint with that?”

“I do not know. How are paints made?”

“Color materials are mixed with linseed oil, and then the different colors are mixed to make the color you want to use when painting.”

“And where do those colors come from?”

George thought about that. “I have no idea. From the shop, I suspect.”

Lucy laughed. “Yes, but where do they come from before they go to the shop?”

“You know, I have no idea.”

“Why not collect colors from around here and mix them with your linst oil?”

“Linseed oil,” George corrected.

Lucy nodded, and then took George by the hand and led him farther along the stream to an exposed earth bank. There were streaks of dark red, terracotta, and more of a deeper yellow color.

“See. If you were to collect these colors and more along here, you could make your colors. And my nana also showed me some plants that have colors I think you could use.”

“Your nana showed you?”

“Yes, we used to go looking for plants to use in making medicines when the twins got a cough, or I fell and scraped my knee, or mommy was feeling poorly. And some of them were wonderfully colorful, and I often thought they were parts of the rainbow broken off and dropped to the ground to take root.”

George laughed. “Oh, I like that. Can you show me some of those plants?”

“Of course.” Lucy left the stream and headed along a trail that led toward a grove of trees. She stopped along the path, picked a few plants and then headed into the trees and began looking for more plants and mushrooms.

After an hour or so, Lucy had her apron filled with clippings, scrapings of rocks and soil, and leaves, roots, and fungi.

“There. That should be enough to get you started. And if you need more colors, you tell me what you need, and I may know where to find them.”

“What a clever child you are, Lucy Brighton.”

“Maybe. But it is just what I know and what my nana taught me. And when you said you needed color, I thought of these.”