married an’ all that.’
‘So were you there on her wedding day?’
‘I go on carriage. I stand at church door.’
‘On her wedding day, what did she look like?’
‘What she look like? Like she look.’
Lord, it was like pulling teeth. ‘I mean, was she happy?’
‘Before – she look like crying. Then after she quiet face.’
‘And Sir Geoffrey, was he happy?’
Loveday’s face creased into a white-toothed grin. ‘He drunk much liquor,’ he laughed. ‘Mr Quentin, he dress him, he heavy as old stone. His head hurt mighty bad.’
Just then a shower of hailstones sent us pelting back to the inn with spattered clothes and ratty hair. There I had the misfortune to walk right into my mistress and Jesmire in the hallway of the inn.
‘Where have you been hiding? And what in heaven’s name do you look like?’
Jesmire shook her grey head slowly. It was true my face was red raw from the icy hail.
‘Your complexion will be ruined,’ complained my mistress, as I shivered before her in my soaking gown. ‘I thought country servants had fresh faces. That’s what all the ballads say. Girl, I have some cowslip water in my travelling case, most esteemed to improve the face. I give you permission to go to my chamber and take a cupful to dowse your face. What do you say to that?’
I curtseyed and mumbled my thanks. As for Jesmire, she looked so affronted at my mistress’s kindness that it cheered me up no end.
Once I was dry, I made my way to my lady’s chamber while she was still downstairs at cards. The cowslip water was in my lady’s travelling box, an ingenious cabinet filled with every sort of brush, powder puffer, and bottles of perfume and pomade. Admiring all her pretty things, I poured myself a cupful of the cowslip water. Then, dawdling before the lovely bright fire, I dabbed a little Cologne water on my bodice. Next, my hand fell on a little amber bottle and I lifted it to take a sniff. It was somewhat like an apothecary’s bottle, tight stoppered with a label that said ‘ Sassafras Oil ’. Inside was a sweet heavy oil that reeked like no ordinary scent. Then suddenly a cold draught from the doorway started me sneezing, which try as I might to stop it, exploded like a flurry of gunfire. Quickly closing the portmanteau, I jumped up just in time to see a figure at the door. It was Mr Pars.
‘My Lady,’ he called, as I turned. I curtseyed and told him my mistress had told me to come up and dress my face. ‘Very well, Biddy. That will be all,’ he replied, which was kindness itself from that curmudgeon. Then I found my own closet under the eaves and had a very pleasant spell dressing my face with the complexion water.
I thought no more of the Sassafras Oil until the next night when I lay on my pallet reading The Cook’s Jewel. I pored through the quivery old writing with my fingertip. There it was, amongst a great list of Remedies for fearful contagions: Sassafras Oil. I yawned, but read on and tried to guess what Lady Carinna might want with such stuff. Five to ten drops on sugar for the pox and gleets. Surely not, for I would have seen any sores if she had them. Praised for application to wens and rheumatics, it continued, and after childbed and menstrual obstruction. None of those were likely, and as for being recently at childbed, her bosom had no signs of milk. Then I read the final line. ‘One teaspoon of the oil produced vomiting, stupor and collapse in a young man.’
I shut the book fast. So she did have the means if she wished it, to strike down her husband. Maybe her giddiness was all an act? After all, we all knew she was merrily spending Sir Geoffrey’s money with not a shred of conscience. Was it possible that she had stirred a teaspoon of oil into the old man’s drink?
* * *
Next morning I peered closely at my mistress as she dozed beside Jesmire. In the fresh light of day I could never believe she had poisoned my master. She was young and wilful, but I did not
‘So were you there on her wedding day?’
‘I go on carriage. I stand at church door.’
‘On her wedding day, what did she look like?’
‘What she look like? Like she look.’
Lord, it was like pulling teeth. ‘I mean, was she happy?’
‘Before – she look like crying. Then after she quiet face.’
‘And Sir Geoffrey, was he happy?’
Loveday’s face creased into a white-toothed grin. ‘He drunk much liquor,’ he laughed. ‘Mr Quentin, he dress him, he heavy as old stone. His head hurt mighty bad.’
Just then a shower of hailstones sent us pelting back to the inn with spattered clothes and ratty hair. There I had the misfortune to walk right into my mistress and Jesmire in the hallway of the inn.
‘Where have you been hiding? And what in heaven’s name do you look like?’
Jesmire shook her grey head slowly. It was true my face was red raw from the icy hail.
‘Your complexion will be ruined,’ complained my mistress, as I shivered before her in my soaking gown. ‘I thought country servants had fresh faces. That’s what all the ballads say. Girl, I have some cowslip water in my travelling case, most esteemed to improve the face. I give you permission to go to my chamber and take a cupful to dowse your face. What do you say to that?’
I curtseyed and mumbled my thanks. As for Jesmire, she looked so affronted at my mistress’s kindness that it cheered me up no end.
Once I was dry, I made my way to my lady’s chamber while she was still downstairs at cards. The cowslip water was in my lady’s travelling box, an ingenious cabinet filled with every sort of brush, powder puffer, and bottles of perfume and pomade. Admiring all her pretty things, I poured myself a cupful of the cowslip water. Then, dawdling before the lovely bright fire, I dabbed a little Cologne water on my bodice. Next, my hand fell on a little amber bottle and I lifted it to take a sniff. It was somewhat like an apothecary’s bottle, tight stoppered with a label that said ‘ Sassafras Oil ’. Inside was a sweet heavy oil that reeked like no ordinary scent. Then suddenly a cold draught from the doorway started me sneezing, which try as I might to stop it, exploded like a flurry of gunfire. Quickly closing the portmanteau, I jumped up just in time to see a figure at the door. It was Mr Pars.
‘My Lady,’ he called, as I turned. I curtseyed and told him my mistress had told me to come up and dress my face. ‘Very well, Biddy. That will be all,’ he replied, which was kindness itself from that curmudgeon. Then I found my own closet under the eaves and had a very pleasant spell dressing my face with the complexion water.
I thought no more of the Sassafras Oil until the next night when I lay on my pallet reading The Cook’s Jewel. I pored through the quivery old writing with my fingertip. There it was, amongst a great list of Remedies for fearful contagions: Sassafras Oil. I yawned, but read on and tried to guess what Lady Carinna might want with such stuff. Five to ten drops on sugar for the pox and gleets. Surely not, for I would have seen any sores if she had them. Praised for application to wens and rheumatics, it continued, and after childbed and menstrual obstruction. None of those were likely, and as for being recently at childbed, her bosom had no signs of milk. Then I read the final line. ‘One teaspoon of the oil produced vomiting, stupor and collapse in a young man.’
I shut the book fast. So she did have the means if she wished it, to strike down her husband. Maybe her giddiness was all an act? After all, we all knew she was merrily spending Sir Geoffrey’s money with not a shred of conscience. Was it possible that she had stirred a teaspoon of oil into the old man’s drink?
* * *
Next morning I peered closely at my mistress as she dozed beside Jesmire. In the fresh light of day I could never believe she had poisoned my master. She was young and wilful, but I did not
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