The Tanner’s Daughter – Episode 15
The Tanner's Daughter by Pamela Kavanagh
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- 15. The Tanner’s Daughter – Episode 15
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- 17. The Tanner’s Daughter – Episode 17
- 18. The Tanner’s Daughter – Episode 18
Constance had another worry; the closeness that was developing between Jane and the man her mother still neither liked nor trusted.
But a bout of coughing from the bed drove everything but the need for assistance from her mind.
She rang the small brass bell on the bedside coffer to summon help.
“Bear up, my love. I’ve rung for Margery. Where is the girl? Why is she not here where she’s needed?”
The door opened.
“There you are. Where in the world have you been?”
“Helping Martha in the kitchen, ma’am.” Margery hurried to the master’s bedside. “Mercy, sir, what’s brought this on? And you so much improved, too.
“Let me help you to sit up. Now, a dose of my linctus, methinks.”
She plumped up the bolsters and eased the man against them, then turned to the tray on the coffer to pour a measure of golden-brown liquid from a glass phial into a small horn cup.
“If you would support the master, ma’am, while I administer the dose?” she said to Constance.
Between them they managed to get a few drops of the tincture down the suffering man’s throat. After a while the coughing subsided. Nicholas sank back against the bolsters and closed his eyes.
“’Twill be best to let the master rest, ma’am. No more talking. It is too draining for him.”
She shot Constance a glance that made her squirm inwardly.
Bad cess to the girl! That calculating stare always did go right through her.
Could she actually read one’s mind? Thoughts of witchcraft surfaced and Constance shuddered.
Should she dismiss the maid and replace her with one of her own choice?
Then again, as far as cures and simples went, Margery was unsurpassed.
All the same, Constance concluded as Nicholas fell into a healing sleep, it was an idea for the future.
After the cold, wet spring, May came in with blue skies and bright sunshine. Will’s promise of the Arab mare for Jane materialised.
She was named Falada, which Will said meant princess of the moon.
“’Tis appropriate. This pale colouring, known as moon-coloured, was a favourite with knights who brought these animals back from the Crusades as palfreys for their ladies. Pretty, is she not?”
He gave the mare a couple of appreciative claps on her neck and she turned her head enquiringly and nuzzled his hand for tidbits.
Jane, speechless with delight at this elegant mount that was to be hers, found her voice at last.
“Will, she’s beautiful. How can I ever thank you?”
“I’ll not answer that!” Will said roguishly.
Then he was taken aback when Jane threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips.
The memory of that kiss haunted Will long after. She had tasted of sweet honey, of the breeze from clover meadows, of all things wholesome.
Jane of the red-gold locks and deep green eyes that could spark in annoyance or smile endearingly.
Male heads were turning now that she had forsaken her sombre mode of dress for something more colourful and becoming, though plain in style as yet.
“You think a lot of her.”
Will, standing at the office window gazing out at the rooftops and spires of the city, had not heard anyone come in.
He faced Margery.
“What’s that?”
“My young mistress. You are taken with her.”
Will stared at the maid. Jane had spoken of her ability to see into one’s mind and he had laughed the notion away.
Now, he had to wonder.
Margery smiled.
“You think me forward.”
Will shrugged.
“Nay. You speak as a friend to your mistress. Doubtless you have her best interests at heart.”
“That you are smitten with my mistress and she with you is clear, and not only to me. The whole household is aware of the fact, and of Mistress Hatton’s concern.”
“The lady does not approve of me, I know that well enough. I am considered a popinjay and a blackguard, out for what I can get.
“Rest assured, there is no truth in any of this.”
“I am aware of that,” Margery said. “Sir…”
“Ach, woman, can’t you call me Will? Everyone else does, with the exception of the good fellows of the city guilds, mayhap.”
“Will, then. What I am about to say may seem forward, but I shall not rest until I have spoken.”
“Come then, woman. Out with it.”
