Contents ( 25)
- TIDELANDS, SUSSEX, MIDSUMMER EVE, JUNE 1648
- TIDELANDS, SUNDAY, JULY 1648
- TIDELANDS, JULY 1648
- TIDELANDS, AUGUST 1648
- TIDELANDS, SEPTEMBER 1648
- TIDELANDS, SEPTEMBER 1648
- TIDELANDS, OCTOBER 1648
- DOUAI, FRANCE, OCTOBER 1648
- TIDELANDS, NOVEMBER 1648
- DOUAI, FRANCE, NOVEMBER 1648
- TIDELANDS, NOVEMBER 1648
- TIDELANDS, DECEMBER 1648
- LONDON, DECEMBER 1648
- TIDELANDS, DECEMBER 1648
- THE HAGUE, NETHERLANDS, DECEMBER 1648
- TIDELANDS, JANUARY 1649
- LONDON, JANUARY 1649
- TIDELANDS, FEBRUARY 1649
- LONDON, FEBRUARY 1649
- TIDELANDS, FEBRUARY 1649
- TIDELANDS, FEBRUARY 1649
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- GARDENS FOR THE GAMBIA
- Continue Reading…
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Obediently, Alinor turned her face to the sideboard where the Millers’ well-polished pewter and one trencher of silver was proudly displayed. Behind her she could hear the noise of Mrs. Miller going to the drawer in the big wooden kitchen table, pulling it out and taking out her purse, and her “tut” of irritation as she found that she did not have enough money to hand.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Just wait a minute.”
“No hurry,” Alinor said pleasantly, her thoughts far away from Mrs. Miller’s purse, conscious only of the heat of her lips and the ache in her body and her longing for James.
“Just a moment,” Mrs. Miller said again, but now she was immediately behind Alinor, her voice strange and echoing. Startled, Alinor’s head jerked up and she clearly saw, in the silver trencher, the miller’s wife standing on the hearthstone, behind the glowing embers, pulling a red leather purse from a hole in the brickwork chimney. The woman turned with sooty fingers, and met Alinor’s eyes, flinching at her reflected gaze. Obviously, Alinor had seen her hiding place. Alinor looked down and heard the scrape of the brick sliding back into place.
“You can turn round now,” she said, flustered. “Jane’s dowry. I’m short in my own purse. I’ll just borrow from Jane’s dowry.”
“Of course,” said Alinor coolly, turning and looking at the floor, not the fireplace.
“It’s my own money,” the woman said awkwardly. “It’s me that put it by for her. Surely I can borrow from my own daughter’s dowry, since I put it by for her since she was a baby?”
“I understand,” said Alinor. “And I didn’t see.”
“It’s the same purse that your mother got from the pedlar. We bought them together, years ago. Red leather.”
“I didn’t know,” Alinor said. “I didn’t see.”
“I know you didn’t,” Mrs. Miller lied. “And I wouldn’t mind if you did. I can’t bring myself to keep it at the goldsmith’s. I like it where I can see it. Now and then I top it up. Always have done. Of course, I don’t mind you knowing where it’s kept. Haven’t I known you since you were a little girl? Didn’t your own mother attend my birth?”
“She did,” Alinor agreed.
Mrs. Miller pressed three silver shillings into Alinor’s hand. “There. If you see some fine lace, not too fussy, for a collar and a pinny, you can pay up to three shillings for it.”
The coins were hot from being stored behind the fire. Alinor thought that anyone who touched them would have guessed their hiding place at once. But she said lightly: “I’ll look for lace for you, and bring it tomorrow afternoon.”
“Very good,” Mrs. Miller said. “Alys can help you pick the herbs now and then go home with you if you want. I don’t need her for anything else today.”
“Thank you,” Alinor said, and went to fetch her daughter to come to the herb garden and pick comfrey and basil for Mrs. Miller.