He watched her go, the basket on her arm, the neat white cap on her head. He saw her speak a pleasant “good morning” to the grooms, and saw them turn and watch her as she walked across the yard to the house. Behind her back one lad made an obscene gesture pumping his buttocks to mimic lust, but the other did worse: he gathered spittle in his mouth and he spat on her tracks, and clenched his thumb inside his fist, in the old, old gesture of guarding against a witch.

“His lordship wants to see you,” Mrs. Wheatley said to Alinor as she came into the kitchen. “Good Lord! Mrs. Reekie! I’ve never seen you in such good looks. You’re glowing!”

“Your good cooking,” Alinor said lightly. “I’ve eaten better these last two days than I have for weeks. I shall come to nurse at the Priory again if I can.”

“Pray God we’re spared illness,” Mrs. Wheatley said.

“Amen,” Alinor answered correctly. “His lordship is well?”

“Yes, but he asked you to go to his gun room before you leave this morning. You can go now. Stuart will show you in.”

“Why does he want to see me?” Alinor hesitated.

“It can only be to thank you,” the cook replied. “You saved us all from great worry, and perhaps you saved the island from sickness. Go, you’ve got nothing to fear.”

“Thank you,” Alinor said, going to the door into the house.

“Come back this way and I’ll give you a loaf of bread to keep that bloom in your cheeks,” Mrs. Wheatley said.

Alinor smiled and followed Stuart down the corridor towards the garden door and his lordship’s gun room.

Sir William was seated at the table, cleaning his flintlock rifle. He glanced up and nodded when Alinor knocked, came in, and stood before him.

“Goodwife Reekie, I’m grateful to you,” he said, looking down the barrel. “Thank God it was no worse than a fever.”

She nodded. He took care to pay attention to his gun and not to look at the curve of her breasts under the bulky jacket.

“Your son, Robert, found his way round the stillroom. He’s a bright lad. He fetched all the things you needed?”

“Yes, he knew what was wanted for a fever,” she said. She thought her voice sounded thin, as if the light was too bright and Sir William was too loud.

“Nobody told him what to get. He picked out the things himself?” He took up a piece of wadding and polished the beautiful enameled stock.

“He’s watched me since he was a baby. He’s got a gift with herbs and their use.”

“James Summer said some time ago that he was fit to be a servant to a physician, or apprenticed to an apothecary.”

Alinor bowed her head. “I think so, but we couldn’t afford his entry fee.”

His lordship put the cleaning cloth and the oil to one side, racked the gun, and sat back in his chair. He looked her up and down, and felt again the regret that she was a respectable woman and the sister of a pious man. “I tell you what, Goodwife, I’ll do it for you. He’s a good lad, a credit to you. He’s been a merry companion for Master Walter and you’ve been a great help to me and my house. Just now with the tutor falling sick . . . and I know about earlier.”