“I thought a woman might come to you for all sorts of needs?”

“I’ve got a need. You could give my old man a potion!” someone interrupted, to bawdy laughter.

Alinor smiled as if she thought it was funny, though she was tired of the question. “I’m sorry, but I only have herbs for illnesses. I sell herbs and attend births, and sometimes I do nursing. I have to take care, Mrs. Grace. You will understand. I have to take care of my good name.”

The woman nodded, disbelieving. “But they say you can do all sorts of things. They say you speak to the other world. And they help you.”

Alinor shook her head. “I can do nothing better than this,” she insisted, looking once again at the girl lying back exhausted in the bed, her face alight with joy, and the baby suckling at her breast. “I think there is nothing finer than this in the whole world. This world—I know nothing about any other.”

“Is she well?” Lisa asked. “She’s feeding well, isn’t she?”

Alinor smiled at her. “She’s very well, and when your husband comes home, he will love you both. And now . . .” Alinor started to collect up the bottles of oil and the box of dried moss, and pack them in her sack. “Now I’ll go home to my cottage. And if you wish, I’ll come back tomorrow to see how you do.”

“Jem can go with you with a lantern,” Mrs. Grace offered, producing a sixpence. “And I will pay you another shilling when you come tomorrow. I am grateful, Mrs. Reekie. We both are. I hope we have your goodwill? I hope the baby has your good wishes?”

“It is my joy. Praise God,” Alinor said, hardly hearing the odd question. She said good night to the other women, hefted her sack, pulled her cape around her and put her hood over her head, and followed Jem’s wavering light up the narrow lanes of East Beach.

It was too dark to go across the harbor with the tide coming in, so they went the long way, up the Chichester road, north till they saw the light from the window of Ferry-house. Jem went all the way ahead of her, lantern held high at his side to light her path, as if he was afraid to walk abreast with a wisewoman. He only paused when they got to the brink of the rife and the reflection of the moon, silver on the water, made his lantern seem yellow and weak.

“I’m safe from here,” Alinor said. “I know the way, even in the dark. You can go home.”

He ducked his head and though she held out half a penny to him, he turned away.

“Here,” she said. “This is for you. Thank you for bringing me to Mrs. Auster and home again.”

“I don’t dare to take it,” he said, stepping back, whipping his hands behind his back.

“What d’you mean?” Still, she held out the coin.