“See you later!” Alys called to him. “Don’t be late!”

Ned waved and pulled the ferry back to the island as the wagon went towards the mill. Mr. Miller was standing at the five-barred gate to the yard. “Come in! Come in! Toast to the bride!” he exclaimed. “And we have a ham to give you for your wedding feast.”

“I’m grateful,” Mr. Stoney said, turning the horses into the mill yard.

“We can’t stop long,” Mrs. Stoney cautioned him, stepping down from the box. “We have to get to Stoney Farm before Sir William. Sir William is coming to our house for the bridal dinner.”

“You’ll see him riding past,” Mr. Miller assured her. “He’ll stop for a glass of my ale too, I don’t doubt. I’ve never known him go past my door.”

Richard Stoney handed the reins of his father’s horses to the stable lad. Mrs. Wheatley carefully put her cake on the wagon floor and climbed down from the tailgate.

“I don’t know their ale is that fine,” she said quietly to Alinor. “I don’t think Sir William needs to leave home to drink good ale.”

“Course he doesn’t,” Alinor replied loyally, hardly knowing what she was saying. “But I’m glad Mrs. Miller is drinking a toast to Alys. She works her so hard!”

“A smoky kitchen,” Mrs. Wheatley whispered, using the old description of a shrewish housewife.

Alinor smiled. She could feel the child move in her belly and for a moment she leaned against the doorframe and thought how weary she was, and what a long day stretched before her.

“You all right?” Mrs. Wheatley asked.

“Oh, yes,” Alinor said brightly. “I’m happy for Alys; but it’s been a strain, you know?”

The two of them went into the kitchen and through to the parlor where previously Alinor had only been before to clean and polish. But today the parlor was open, and the wedding party were invited guests. The round wooden table was set with glasses and biscuits, and Mrs. Miller was wearing her best apron and white cap. Mr. Miller warmed the ale at the fireside and Jane poured a small cup for everyone. “Where is Peter?” Alinor asked Jane.

“Gone to play with the Smith boys,” she said.

“Here’s to the health of the bride, the new Mrs. Stoney!” Mr. Miller said, holding up his pewter mug. “And to the happiness of the young couple.”

“Here’s health!” everyone replied, raising their glasses. “Health and happiness!”

Alys, her hand resting on Richard’s arm, smiled at everyone. “Thank you,” she said.

“God bless us all,” Richard added.

Mr. Miller, excited at having the floor to himself, as Mrs. Miller went out to the kitchen, was about to say more. “I well recall my own wedding day . . . ,” he started when there was a sudden loud scream from the kitchen.

“Thieves, thieves,” Mrs. Miller was shouting. “Thieves in my—”

She burst into the parlor, Jane’s red leather dowry purse in her hand, her fingers sooty from the chimney bricks, her face blanched with shock.