Page 47 of The Curse of Penryth Hall
I started to protest, but the thought of frustrating him any further, combined with the warm glow of the fire, convinced me to surrender in this. The two of us walked in through the back kitchen door.
Alice Martin stood by the stove, her face grave. Her hair was pulled back with wisps coming loose at the edges, lookingfar wearier than she had when I first saw her outside the gates of Penryth.
“She’s dead then?” Mrs. Martin looked to her husband, who was scraping his boots in the doorway behind me.
“No. Ruan said she should make it through the night. Thinks she poisoned herself. Got into some water hemlock that got washed out with the storms. He found some earlier on the edge of his property, where the cliff gave way this morning. We’re lucky to not have lost the whole herd.”
Mrs. Martin grew paler, if such a thing was possible. It was a sobering thought. One cow was a hardship, but to lose the lot of them was the sort of thing that meant complete ruin for a farmstead like this. “You’re moving them tonight then?” She looked out into the growing storm. The wind picking up. Howling outside the little house. “In this?”
Ruan nodded. “There’s no choice for it, Alice. We’ll keep them safe. And you can have that lad of yours clear the root out of the pastures in the morning.”
She let out a heavy sigh and hugged her husband tightly. Her eyes squeezed shut. “Be careful.” She stepped back and Benedict wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “I’ll have a kettle ready for the pair of you when you return.”
Ruan paused in the doorway and turned back. “Doesn’t the Smythe girl forage here sometimes, over by the cliff’s edge?”
Mrs. Martin nodded as she watched Ruan curiously. “She and half the village this time of year. There’s some wild mushrooms growing up that way. The lass always brings me some back when she goes. My knee has trouble making it up there with the weather.”
Ruan made a low sound in his throat. “Make sure to send a lad to tell her not to pick anything that looks like wild garlic or parsnips while she’s there. Only mushrooms. Understand? Be sure word gets around to be on the lookout for it.”
Mrs. Martin nodded grimly. “Aye. We will. Water hemlock you think it is? I’ll send the boy around first thing in the morning.”
Ruan gave her a grateful smile and dipped back out into the storm. The lightning flashed outside, illuminating the field like midday as the door shut behind them.
Alice cleared her throat and turned to me. “I’ve got some saffron cake left from Sunday. You hungry, child?” She didn’t wait for a response, instead settled me near the fire. “Come, let’s sit you down and dry off, mmm? You look a far sight worse than you did when I saw you this morning. More like one of the merfolk fished fresh from the sea. Pretty like one too, at least under all those bruises.” She brushed a lock of damp hair from my brow and smiled at me.
She stooped down, knees creaking with the action, and tossed another log onto the fire.
“Thank you, Mrs. Martin.”
“Call me Alice.”
I untied Ruan’s handkerchief from my brow, laying it before the crackling fire, and began roughly drying my hair with the linen cloth she’d handed me.
She poured tea from a deep cobalt pot into a delicate cup. “Sugar? Milk?”
I shook my head, taking it from her. The warmth ran straight through the thin china into my fingertips. I lifted it to my nose and took a deep breath. It wasn’t tea. Or rather, it was but there was something else in the brew. I looked at her, puzzled.
“One of Ruan’s concoctions.”
I arched a brow.
“It’s to help with settling my nerves. They’ve not been what they ought these last few years. The lad made this for me to help ease my mind. Except it’s rather good and I’ve gotten intothe habit of drinking it at night. Helps me to sleep and keep the dreams at bay.”
I caught a strange array of herbs. Ones I’d not thought about drinking down.
“It’s mostly chamomile I think,” she said with a warm smile. “Some mint. Fennel too. But beyond that he won’t tell me and I haven’t been able to figure it out.”
I took a slow sip of it. Hissing slightly as I burned my tongue. I blew on it before trying again. She was right. It was delicious, and definitely a hint of fennel.
“Benedict told me what happened in town today. I’m that sorry, maid. Some of the men get it in their head that they’re going to protect us and…” She clucked her teeth. “Gracious, child, you look like you’ve been thrown from a horse.”
I snorted. “It’s been a while since I’ve ridden but if I recall, it hurt less last time I was thrown from one.”
She laughed at that. “Ah, you’ll be fit in no time, if our Ruan’s put his hands on you.”
My fingers rose unconsciously toward the stitches at the back of my head.
“Cold, love? Shall I fetch you a blanket?”
