Anne Herries - The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride

‘Yes, I dare say. We have used most of our spices, raisins and dates in the last batch of buns I made. You will need to buy more soon, Aunt.’

‘I think I shall send to town for a length of cloth for Angelina and perhaps for myself. We could both do with a new gown for Sunday—and perhaps you would care to buy something, too, Babette? We can have Mistress Hoskins from the village to help cut and sew it, though I like to finish my gowns myself.’

Babette hesitated. Had she not been told that John wished her to return to the castle she would have been glad of the chance to buy at least one length of wool to make herself a new gown for the winter months, which were not so very far ahead. However, it was unlikely that an order sent within the next few days would be filled and delivered before she was home again. Better to wait until she was at the castle. Perhaps Alice would care to order some cloth, too? Briefly, her thoughts dwelled on her sister-in-law—what was Alice like and would she welcome her husband’s sister back to the castle?

‘Thank you, dear Aunt,’ she said, ‘but I think I shall not order this time. Perhaps when the fair comes...’

She blushed a little as she turned away, not wanting her aunt to see her face. She felt guilty at hiding her secret from Aunt Minnie, because the lady had been kind and generous. Indeed, Babette would miss her when she left. However, she must rejoice at the news of her brother’s return and her duty was to his wife. Alice was living in a strange house, carrying her first child and without friends. Babette knew how lonely it could be at the castle and thought that the sooner she was able to leave her uncle’s house the better for Alice’s sake. However, she could not leave until John was able to escort her. First he must get Drew on his feet again and then he must make certain that the Parliament soldiers had gone. Only then would he have time to fetch her.

* * *

After she had finished preparing supper, Babette began to brew an infusion of herbs and berry juice that she knew would help to ease the pain of Drew Melbourne’s wound and to fight a fever. She ground her ingredients, poured on boiling water to release the flavours and healing properties, then strained the mixture through muslin, removing all the pulp and bits. When she had a clear yellowish-green mixture, she added a spoon of honey to sweeten it, tasted it, added more honey and then poured the finished preparation into a flask.

‘You have spent a lot of time on your cure,’ Aunt Minnie said. ‘Who is it for?’

Babette hesitated. She thought that she might trust her aunt, but then the kitchen door opened and her uncle entered. She smiled and shook her head, slipping the small flask into the pocket of her gown. Aunt Minnie frowned, but remained silent, and Babette left the room. She went into the parlour and began to prepare the table for supper that night. The dark oak table looked best set with mats of woven straw, the knife to one side and the spoon to the other. In her uncle’s house each member of the household was given both a knife and a spoon. Babette had heard that some people followed the French fashion and had introduced a two-pronged instrument into their households, which could be used to spear a piece of meat, but Uncle Matthew ate with his knife or spoon, using his fingers to secure any tasty morsel that could not be speared by the knife or scooped up in the spoon.

That night they were to have roasted capon. Babette’s uncle liked the leg joint best and ate it with his fingers, disposing of the bones to the dogs he allowed to roam in and out of the house. They were hunting dogs, but also useful as guard dogs, and he liked to have one at his heels wherever he went, inside and out. Aunt Minnie liked the breast meat, with the skin crisped and golden, while both Angelina and Babette enjoyed the sweeter meat on the wings. There was only one way to eat them and that was with the fingers, so they would need finger bowls set at intervals for each diner. She wondered whether Captain Colby would eat his chicken with the point of his knife or his fingers. He normally used the knife, spearing the meat and eating daintily until the last piece, which he ate with his fingers. She thought that his table manners were very good—the mark of a true gentleman. He had long narrow fingers that looked elegant when in repose, but which she knew to be extremely strong, having felt his grasp imprison her.

She must not think about such things! There were more important matters to concern her. She frowned as she remembered that her brother was to come to the house that night for the healing mixture she had brewed.

Her work in the parlour finished, Babette was just considering how soon after dinner she could slip outside to meet her brother when a slight noise behind her caught her off guard. She turned to see Captain Colby looking at her thoughtfully.

‘Lost in thought, Mistress Babette?’ he asked. ‘I hope you are not planning to slip away to meet your lover tonight.’

Provoking creature! Did he imagine his mockery was amusing? The sparkle in his eyes was so attractive it made her angry. Did he think himself so charming that he would have her eating from his hand if he smiled at her? She would have liked to wipe that smug smile from his lips, but caution warned her to hold her tongue.

‘You like to mock me, sir. I have no lover—and if I choose to visit a friend I think it no business of yours.’

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