Juliet Landon - The Mistress And The Merchant

The thought of finding an acceptable way to comfort her was not new to him. It had kept him awake for hours last night. But she had given him not the slightest indication that she might accept any comfort he could offer. Prickly, resentful and defensive, and certainly under no obligation to charm him, not even for the sake of courtesy. He would have to tread very carefully if he wished to stay long enough to find what he was looking for, for if he asked her outright, she would most certainly refuse to help. So would he, in the same circumstances.

* * *

It began to look as if Aphra’s faith in Master Fletcher, her steward, had paid off when, early next morning, she passed his cottage on her way to the kitchen gardens and heard him whistling. He came to the door as she drew near, presenting his new morning face, shaved and bright-eyed, his hair washed and combed. ‘Morning to you, mistress,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’m about to take a look at the gardens over there. I’ve got three men and two lads on my payroll, but now there seems to be eight of them. We’ll be having half the lads in the village there, if we don’t watch out.’

‘Before you send them off, Master Fletcher, find out exactly who they’re related to, then see if the head gardener actually needs the extra help. It may be that he needs them, with things starting to grow.’

‘Right, mistress, I’ll do as you say. Then I’ll go and—’

‘Ah! There you are!’ Santo’s deep voice reached them from across the courtyard just as the steward turned to walk away. ‘Don’t go, Fletcher. You’re the one who’ll know exactly where the estate boundaries are. Yes? Good morning to you, mistress. Would you give me leave to take Master Fletcher and the bailiff off to ride round the Sandrock lands this morning? It’s a matter of some urgency, you’ll agree, if we’re to understand exactly what belongs to you.’

‘Well, I...’

‘Your lawyer is correct, mistress,’ Fletcher said, nodding in agreement. ‘I know a few bits changed hands with Dr Ben and I have the newest map that shows the changes. You really do need to know about it. I can take you round, sir. Shall I go and get it?’ He was half-inside the cottage before Aphra could think of an objection. So that was where the map was.

‘You were supposed to be leaving,’ she said, attempting some severity.

‘Yes, but I’ve been thinking...’

‘Of a reason why you should stay. Yes, I can see that. Have you broken your fast yet?’

‘In the kitchen, with the men,’ he said. ‘You could come with us?’

She caught the sunlight shining in his eyes and on white teeth. ‘No, I have other things to do. Go on, then. Get on with it, if it’s so important.’

‘One of us needs to know,’ he said, reasonably. ‘Four of us is better.’

Aphra turned away, speaking to herself so that he would hear and not be able to reply. ‘And what will it be tomorrow, I wonder? Something equally urgent?’ She did not see his smile, but felt his eyes on her as she walked over the uneven cobblestones, and she knew that her hips swung and that her hair shone silvery in the bright light. She had not exaggerated when she’d made her excuses not to ride out with him and the men, for there was indeed much for her to do that she had ignored in previous weeks while revelling in being her own mistress. Without quite knowing why, she experienced a new, different kind of energy and a realisation that the tasks of managing a large estate on a day like this were well within her capabilities and enticing, too. There was a spring in her step as she walked down to the high-walled kitchen garden where, after watching the men at their tasks, she decided that there was enough work for all eight of them.

But as the sunny morning wore on, her involvement with the gardens, the stillroom, the store rooms and dairy, the bee skeps and the brewhouse did not prevent her ears straining to catch the sound of Signor Datini’s return from his ride. Even while she gave instructions, spoke to Father Vickery and examined the church register for details of Dr Ben’s funeral, her thoughts refused to stay on track, teasing her with his next attempt to stay another day and the way she would allow it while giving the impression of irritation. Tonight, at supper, he would present her with some necessary task that only he, a man, could perform and she would argue and pretend to refuse, already feeling the disappointment if he should accept her decision. Was that why she had given him the comfortable visiting abbots’ house instead of a humble pallet in the students’ dormitory which had once been the infirmary? It was perfect for rows of beds and the basic necessities, but not exactly homely. Perhaps she was sending out the wrong kind of message.

In an attempt to refocus her thoughts, she returned to Dr Ben’s great library which she had earlier decided to make her own place of study, where his writings would have some influence on her. Botany was a complicated subject and, although every good housewife had some knowledge of plants and their medicinal properties, Dr Ben had taken it to new levels, specialising in particular qualities and remedies. She had not yet discovered what these remedies were for, though Leon had once mentioned that he and Ben were working on the same area and that on one occasion, Ben had given him access to his notes. A rare act of selflessness for a tutor to bestow on a pupil. Little wonder, then, that Ben had been so upset to hear from her, Aphra, that his best student would not be returning, after all. Did Leon have some of Ben’s notes with him? And had this bad news, together with her own distress, somehow contributed to his death in London, only two days later?

Up in the library, she looked through his meticulously written recipe books and then found, in neatly labelled ivory boxes, the powdered pigments he and his students had used to illustrate certain plants, a skill they needed in the accurate compilation of herbals. There were fine brushes there, too, stacks of prepared paper and stiff vellum, and some of his drawings, exquisitely detailed, labelled and described. It was as if, she thought, he was showing her how to go about observing and recording the plants, some of which he had brought back from his foreign travels, pressed flat between the pages. So it was here, amongst Ben’s painting materials, his boxes and pots of vermilion, green and blue byse, verdigris, yellow orpiment, lampe black and white lead, that the painful memories of betrayal and loss were replaced by the gentler ones left by a beloved uncle for exactly that purpose. Amongst the notes and sketches, she felt his presence next to her, pointing a finger to show her what to see and how to portray it.

* * *

As the light began to move away, Santo’s quiet step upon the stairs did nothing to disturb her, though he saw in one glance how the art materials spread across the table had brought to her a peace which he himself had not. This was something he had not foreseen when he had agreed upon this mission, that not only did he have his brother’s latent presence to deal with, but also that of her uncle, who had thought so highly of her that he had left her everything he owned.

He sat on the stool opposite her and waited to be noticed, half-amused by the lack of any greeting. Finally, her silver point lifted from the paper on which delicate lines had appeared as fine as a spider’s web, filling him with admiration. ‘So, you’ve returned,’ she said, unwelcoming, unsmiling.

She was priceless, he thought, with her emotions still all over the place. He smiled at her, resting his arms on the table and hunching his great shoulders. ‘Indeed I have,’ he said. ‘So now we can deal with Master Pearce and his claims. You see, that was a good enough reason for me to stay, don’t you think? Apart from the other reason, of course.’