‘God be praised,’ said Lucie.
Later, after Edric and Jasper had returned to the shop and Alisoun had retired with the children, Bess said to Lucie, ‘I thought Jasper was for the monastery. Did his calling die with Brother Wulfstan?’
‘He still speaks of it, but now it is usually as a threat when he feels unappreciated.’ Lucie smiled, remembering how she’d mourned that such a handsome young man would close himself off from the world. ‘I have some doubt that he has a true vocation.’
‘Not with the way he looks at Alisoun,’ said Bess.
Indeed. ‘This evening it appeared as if her heart lies elsewhere,’ said Lucie. ‘I am both relieved and sorry for that. Poor Jasper.’
‘Aye, but she would be a difficult partner, wilful and moody.’
‘He sees none of that. But what do you think of Edric’s behaviour? I didn’t notice his eyes lingering on her.’
Bess shook her head. ‘No, they linger on his mistress. And don’t pretend to me that you’ve not seen that.’
Of course Lucie had noticed, and God help her but in her clumsy stage of pregnancy she enjoyed the flattery, though she took care to discourage it and keep Edric focused on his work. ‘He is under my roof, in my protection. I do not allow myself to fret about it, and Owen is blind to it — at least he seems to be. Faith, he sees little of Edric, which is for the best.’ In fact it felt to Lucie that Owen saw little of her, which was not for the best. She did wish he were not away so often, that Thoresby did not rely on him so much. When Lucie had been pregnant with Gwenllian, their firstborn, Owen had taken pains to tell her how beautiful she looked, how she still stirred his desire, how excited he was about the life they had begun. Now he seemed merely worried about her health and relieved when she reassured him that she felt well.
Smiling, Bess patted Lucie’s hand. ‘Owen would understand, I think. Edric is comely, but to his elders he’s coltish, young and awkward.’ She tidied her cap. ‘Speaking of your handsome husband, I dare not linger until he returns. I’ve already stayed away from the tavern longer than is wise.’
‘God go with you, my friend. I pray the tavern is quiet.’
Bess chuckled. ‘If I thought it would be quiet I’d feel free to bide with you a while longer. The customers will be eager to recount what they saw and heard at the staithe and the abbey gate over and over, and it will take several tankards for most of them.’
Lucie walked Bess to the door and watched her turn towards St Helen’s Square. She felt restless now, not at all in the proper temper to work on the accounts. In the kitchen, she found Kate drowsing beside the hearth. She thought of her apprentices working into the evening. Jasper’s day had been long already, and Edric had been alone in the shop for long stretches. They might welcome her help for a little while.
She slipped past Kate and, taking an old cloak from a hook by the door, went out into the garden. Breathing in deeply, she felt the crisp air begin to revive her spirits. No wonder Magda advised her to walk outside as much as she found comfortable. She took the path through the garden to the apothecary. She found Edric in the workshop, hands on hips, considering an assortment of jars, a scale, and a mortar and pestle.
‘Dame Lucie, what a blessing that you’ve come.’ He drew up a stool for her at the work table.
‘Are you in need of my advice?’ she asked as she took a seat.
‘I am. I’m mixing a headache powder for the Master of St Leonard’s, but I’ve just noticed that there are three different mixtures for him.’
Sir Richard de Ravenser, the archbishop’s nephew, suffered from a variety of head complaints, varying in intensity. ‘How did his servant describe his condition?’
Edric made a face. ‘It was not his servant.’
‘His clerk Douglas?’
Edric nodded. ‘He’s threatened to return before I close up.’
Lucie thought it was the first sarcasm she’d heard from her new apprentice.
‘Douglas is an unpleasant man in the best of times,’ she said, ‘but when Sir Richard is ailing he’s desperate and so even worse than usual. How did he describe his master’s condition?’
‘Sir Richard is blinking against the light and wants nothing to eat,’ said Edric.
Lucie nodded. ‘Poor Sir Richard, that is his worst. Make him the third one, with the sleeping draught. I’d forgotten he’s been away, to court. I’m not surprised he used all he had and needs more. Double the recipe.’
She reached for a jar of sufficient size and felt Edric step close, his hands ready to catch her by her swollen waist if she stumbled. She was flustered by the scent of him, the warmth of his breath on her cheek. Perhaps he was merely concerned for a mother-to-be, not wooing her; in fact, that is surely what it must be. He had no doubt heard that she’d lost her last child in a fall. Turning round and handing him the jar, she said, ‘You are kind, Edric, but you must not fuss over me. After all, I am your master.’ She said it with a smile.
He blushed and moved aside. ‘I meant no disrespect, Mistress.’
‘I doubt you did, Edric.’ Perhaps she needn’t have said anything, but if it had flustered her what might he have felt. He must learn propriety. ‘Do not make Douglas wait,’ she reminded him, then moved on into the shop to assist Jasper.
She was glad to find him intent on listening to a customer’s lamentations regarding his bowels. Not that the subject was pleasant, but Jasper seemed himself, as if he’d already shrugged off the event on the river.
Later, back by the fire in the hall, Lucie remembered her apprentice’s gesture and wondered whether he understood the difference between feeling protective of a woman and feeling attracted to her. He was so young, so earnest — so charming. She knew that it was just such a complication that worried some of the guild members about her being a master apothecary, with male apprentices. Most likely because Jasper was her adopted son, he’d never seemed confused about his relationship with her. But Edric — she was unsure how to know whether she was reading too much into his behaviour or not enough. After all, Bess had noted it. That worried Lucie. But she need not fear that Owen would notice. She wished he were less protective of her and more flirtatious and affectionate. She felt huge and unlovely. A passionate kiss would go a long way towards brightening her spirit.
Two
The near drowning and a priest and schoolmaster suspected by the gossips of attempted murder brought many to the York Tavern that evening. Bess’s husband Tom growled about her long absence when she returned from Lucie’s house.
‘You’d be more than a little angry if I’d disappeared just as half the city arrived thirsty and cranky with frostbitten fingers and toes,’ he grumbled.
She hugged him, and as she stepped back noted his bemused expression. A hug was the last thing he’d expected from her. She was suddenly poignantly aware of his sagging jowls and swollen eyelids and thanked God he came from a long-lived family.
‘The fire’s smoking,’ she said. ‘See to that while I fill tankards.’
He nodded and pushed a pitcher towards her. ‘It’s plain I’ll be brewing again this week.’
Bess noticed a pair she knew to be abbey bargemen in the corner and made her way towards them in the hope they might be in a mood to talk. Heads bowed, they seemed like two monks in church this evening, quiet and solemn-faced.
‘Have you news of the pilot?’ she asked as she stood over them unnoticed, another clue to their mood.
Bart shook his shaggy head, and as he raised his tankard for a refill he surprised Bess with such a grief-stricken look that she almost spilled some of Tom’s best ale.
‘You are good friends with the man who almost drowned?’
‘My wife and I are godparents of his lasses,’ he said. ‘I was the one to tell his good wife of the accident. I had to repeat it because she just couldn’t believe what I was saying, and then she screamed and frightened the little ones. I pray he recovers. I’ve got a knot in my belly that all the ale in York won’t loosen.’ He took a long drink.