Goody Whiting

Goody stays with the group for a while. She’s not going all the way to Leeds, but she’s going part of the way in the same direction, so it makes sense to stay together. Besides, it’s hard to say goodbye to everyone you’ve ever known. She tries, though. She tries to give some of herself for others to carry with them, too. Herbs for Ivy, to help those who will fall sick. A rose clipping for Anne, in hopes that it can make Leeds a little brighter.

As she’s bedding down for the night – a quilt on a patch of moss, hardly the generations-worn bed she left behind – she hears crying near her. Not a strange sound, given all that has happened. But Goody will do what little she can to help.

She find a child. Well, perhaps not quite a child in the eyes of the law, or in the girl's own eyes. But to Goody, a child, maybe 14, curled into a tangle of tree roots.

She tells Goody her story, in the haltingly poor prose of a terrified teenager. She is Dorothea Clarke. She has no parents that she ever knew. She was raised by her grandparents, and for all that she tried, she could not convince them to leave Little Avoning on time. She is all alone in the world.

She is certainly not the only child in such a situation. But Goody has met Dorothea, so it is Dorothea she will help. Goody offers an apprenticeship. Dorothea accepts.

The next day, they break off from the group. There are many villages around Little Avoning. Surely, one will be in need of a midwife. Indeed, it is not long before they find one, willing to at least temporarily offer shelter for medical services.

It is strange for Goody to walk these streets, so alien, and yet still ply her trade. None of the faces greet her with recognition. No one seeks her out. Dorothea will adapt quickly, she is sure; change is easier on the young. But no one in this town knows or cares about the Whitings, and when Goody Whiting leaves, her legacy will be a village with pride in its Midwife Clarke.