“Jenny, why didn’t you ask me?” he said finally. “I know where your plant grows, I know every corner of this valley. I can cut this herb for you any time you like, bring it to your door if that is your wish. There is no need for you to venture out beyond the safety of these walls. And you will not do it in future. You understand? You will not.”

I had to answer this as best I could. You—cut the plant—no. No good. I. I cut, spin, weave, sew. Only I.

“Then, I will take you there,” he said, his voice back on a more even note again, though he held both hands clenched tight behind his back. “Take you, and watch you cut the stems, and bring you home again. Don’t go out again without me. Now I’m going downstairs. Margery, I want you to keep her here. You will both be excused from supper. My mother owes me a favor.” He made to leave, but turned back in the doorway. “I’ve a man tending to the dog,” he said. “One of my stablehands is skilled at these things. She will be well cared for.” With that he was gone.

“Well,” said Margery. She moved to lay the baby, now sleeping, back in his cradle, and to put a kettle on the fire. “Stirred him up, didn’t you?” And she said no more on the matter, but as the afternoon passed and we brewed peppermint tea, and I helped her wind wool and bake flat cakes on the fire, I often caught her eyes on me, shrewdly appraising, and I wondered what she was thinking.

This time Richard stayed longer than any of us wanted, except perhaps Lady Anne. His presence had a subtle but undeniable influence on the household. Where servants would treat Red and his mother with a respect that showed itself in a wish to please, a service that was always more than mere duty required, the respect they showed Lord Richard was born out of fear. Not that he ever showed outright anger or put his dissatisfaction into plain words. It was, rather, something in his expression, his raised brow or sly half smile. It was in the way he would take a goblet from a serving girl, and touch her hand with his own in doing so. It was in his tone of voice as he gave a groom an order or dismissed one of his own men with an arrogant gesture. I thought he despised us all; believed himself somehow elevated above us. None was immune from his slighting references, his throwaway insults, not even the inner circle of this household. But, as I have said, he was a subtle man. He knew how to wound in a way that perhaps none but his victim could fully understand.