“Yes, he did, a fortune. And something even better than a fee. He said that he will apprentice Rob to an apothecary at Chichester. It’s as good as giving me ten pounds. Now I know Rob is provided for, I can put all my savings into your dowry.”

Alys did not think for a moment that this would leave her mother without anything against accident. She thought only that she could be married to the young man that she loved.

“How much’ve you got?” she demanded.

“One pound and fifteen shillings,” Alinor said proudly. “Farmer Johnson paid me well for the birth of his son, and the boat only cost us three shillings. A whole pound and fifteen shillings altogether. Sir William gave me a pound for nursing the tutor. That’s more than I’ve ever had in my life.”

“How ever have you saved it all?”

“Rob’s wages.” Alinor was silent about the pay for leading James to the Priory at midsummer. “And Farmer Johnson, nursing Mr. Summer just now, and the herbs and fishing, especially the lobsters.”

“But it still won’t be nearly enough.”

“Thirty-five shillings down, and more to come?” Alinor demanded. “They’ll be surprised we have so much. We can tell them that Rob is going for an apothecary. He’ll earn well in the future. He’ll promise some of his wages.”

“It won’t be enough. They thought they’d get a girl who would inherit land. They want some neighbor’s girl whose father owns the fields nearby. Richard has sworn he won’t have her. He’s told them he wants to marry me. We’ve just got to force them to agree.”

“We’ll do the best we can,” Alinor said quietly. “Tell Richard we’ll call on them on the way to market tomorrow.”

“Ma!” Alys gasped, her face alight, and she turned and bounded across the yard to the mill while Alinor tapped on the kitchen door and let herself in.

Mrs. Miller was leaning on the kitchen table, rolling and turning pastry, battering it with an icy roller. Alinor thought that the pastry would be as hard as the woman’s heart.

“Goodwife Reekie,” she said grudgingly as Alinor entered. “Alys told me you were nursing at the Priory.”

“It was the young lord’s tutor that was taken ill,” Alinor said. “Him that was at harvest home, Mr. Summer.”

Neither women referred to the jealous glance that Mrs. Miller had shot down the table at the beautiful younger woman, nor how the young lord’s tutor had gone to speak to Alinor as soon as the table was cleared, and she had stormed away from the harvest home, leaving Alys unsupervised, to dance all night with Richard Stoney.

“Is he sick?” Mrs. Miller asked. “Did he take sick in Newport? I wouldn’t be surprised. The island’s always feverish in summer.”

“Yes, he took a fever,” Alinor said. “Very sudden, very hot, but he’s better now.”

“You nursed him?”

“Sir William insisted. He sent for me at once, to make sure that it was not plague.”

“God save us!”

“Amen.”

“And it was not?”

“No. I wouldn’t be here if there was any danger. I wouldn’t bring sickness to your door, Mrs. Miller.”

“Don’t speak of it,” she said quickly, and knocked on the wooden table, as if Alinor could bring disease by naming it.

Alinor knocked too, a counterpoint to the rhythm of superstition. “No, of course not. I only came in to see if you wanted any of your garden herbs picked and distilled. I’m going to do a batch for myself, and some at Ferry-house. And to ask if Alys might have a day off tomorrow.”

“I could do with some basil oil and oil of comfrey,” Mrs. Miller said. “Of course Alys can have the day off. I don’t have enough work to keep her busy as it is. She’s always dawdling in the yard and talking with the men. I have to tell you, Mrs. Reekie, she’s running after that Richard Stoney every hour of the day.”

“I’m sorry for that.” Alinor resisted the temptation to defend her daughter. “I’ll speak with her. But I know she’s learning so much from you. In the dairy and bakery.”

“Well, of course, I can do more in a big kitchen than you can in your little cottage.” Mrs. Miller warmed to the flattery. “I daresay my kitchen is twice the size of even Ferry-house. Are you two going to Chichester market?”

“Yes. Can I buy anything for you?”

“Nothing, nothing. I can’t afford to waste my money on fripperies. But if you see a piece of lace, just enough to trim a collar and an apron, not too rich, not too fancy—you know the sort of thing I like—you can buy it for me, if it’s not too dear. And a piece for Jane, too. I can put it in her dowry drawer.”

“I will,” Alinor promised. “If I see anything pretty.”

“I’ll give you the money,” Mrs. Miller said. “You can bring it back, if there’s nothing nice.”

“Oh, I’ll take my own money, and you can just repay me, if I find anything.”

“No, it’d be too dear for you,” the older woman said smugly. “I’ll want something worth at least three shillings, and I know you won’t have that. Turn your back and I’ll get out my purse.”

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?”