The Apothecary Rose

Bess Intervenes

Owen entered the shop rehearsing his apology for being so late. But Lucie gave him no chance to recite it.

'Watch the shop while I go out. If you are uncertain about anything, leave it for me. You can save your excuses until I return.' And with a snap of her cloak, Lucie was out the door.

She had every reason to be irritated with him. But her abruptness surprised him. He poked his head into the kitchen and asked Tildy if she could give him something warm to drink. She jumped up, all smiles, happy to be of use. 'You should not be too kind to me, Tildy. Your mistress is cross with me.'

'She has not been herself today, sir. She's that worried about Master Wilton.' Tildy shook her head and sighed. 'Archdeacon Anselm came and upset him, you see. Mistress Wilton shouted at him and made him leave.'

'She shouted at him?' Owen had never heard Lucie raise her voice.

'I could not help but hear, sir, it were so loud. Everyone shouting. Master Wilton sounded so pitiful. Is there trouble, sir?'

'Do you know where your mistress was going just now?'

She shook her head. 'But I hope she's going to complain about that Archdeacon. He has no cause to come here and upset the Master.'

'Or over to talk with Bess Merchet?'

Tildy shrugged. 'She went there looking for you and stayed awhile before. That was when the Archdeacon came.'

So Anselm had watched the shop? What was he up to? 'Thank you for the broth, Tildy. Now get on with your work and I'll mind the shop and together we'll try to make the rest of Mistress Wilton's day go smoothly’

Where could she have gone in such a hurry after ordering Anselm out of the house? He could imagine the state she had been in, if she'd heard Nicholas shouting at Anselm.

Brother Wulfstan was puzzled to hear that Lucie Wilton was here to see him. She sat in Abbot Campian's receiving room, holding a flat parcel. As he entered she lifted a pale face to him that spoke of a sleepless night. 'What is the matter, Lucie?'

'I am trying to find out, Brother Wulfstan,' she said wearily. That is why I'm here.' She unwrapped the parcel. It was a book with a cracked leather cover. 'This is one of my father-in-law's record books. I have come across an entry that I want to understand. It is about Nicholas.'

'And you think that I can help?' Merciful Mother, let it not be about Anselm and Nicholas.

'I overheard something the other day that has me frightened. The Archdeacon and Nicholas were arguing. Something about Geoffrey Montaigne. You know, my mother's lover. Did you know that he was the pilgrim who died here?' She saw the truth in his eyes. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'It was not until the Summoner, God rest his soul, came to question me about him the other day that my Abbot told me who he was.'

'He wounded Nicholas. And by this entry I think it was the night of my mother's death. Do you know anything about that?'

'Nicholas wounded? By Montaigne? But why?'

'That is what I must know.'

Wulfstan nodded to the book. 'What does it say?'

She handed it to him.

He read, puzzling over the initials. 'D'Arby — of course that would be your father.'

'Yes. And Archdeacon Anselm and Dame Phillippa, my aunt. I need to know who "MD" is. Or was. Can you guess?'

' "MD cauterised" — Magda Digby, could it be? Nicholas's father had commerce with her. It was Nicholas who decided to have nothing to do with her. She is an able surgeon, from what I hear, though not in a guild. Who would sponsor her? People use her when they want secrecy. What is this about, Lucie?'

'I don't know. I fear — ' she shook her head and made a motion as if to brush away the thought. 'No. I will say nothing until I know more. Do you think Magda Digby would come to me? To talk with me?'

'You don't think — You aren't thinking that Nicholas meant to poison Montaigne?' The old monk had tried to push aside his suspicion. For if Nicholas had wilfully prepared a poison, Wulfstan had been most cruelly used.

'What do you know of my mother's friendship with Nicholas?'

Wulfstan gave her a puzzled frown. 'What could that have to do with this?'

'Were Geof and Nicholas rival lovers?'

'Rival? Oh. I — Oh, Lucie, what are you thinking?'

Lucie had taken the book and was rewrapping it. 'I must speak with Magda Digby and my Aunt Phillippa. I must know. Can you send someone for the River-woman?'

'No. That is, we are not to associate with her. There is a question whether she is even Christian.'

'But her son was a Summoner.'

Brother Wulfstan shrugged. 'He did not accept her ways.'

'I must speak with her.'

Wulfstan sat down and took her hands in his. 'Lucie, my child, do not pursue this. There is nothing we can do about the past. What God wills is done. Trust in Him that all happens according to His plan.'

The old monk's hands were hot with anxiety. Lucie squeezed them, sorry that she had involved him. But at least he had identified 'MD.'

'I will be careful,' she promised him.

Bess sat in Owen's purged room and fought with herself. Lucie's visit this morning had so disturbed her that she'd set Kit's little brother to following her friend. He'd told her about the Archdeacon's angry exit from the shop and Lucie's hurried trip to the abbey. Lucie was back now, working in the shop with Owen, busy because they had opened late. But how long would she stay put? She was on the trail of trouble, which could bring her nothing but trouble. What to do?

Having a boy follow Lucie would do little to protect her. If only Lucie would trust Owen. He could protect her. And he needed to know what Lucie had heard. They needed to talk to each other. Bess could tell Owen what Lucie had told her, but then she would lose Lucie's trust. That would be unwise.

She must think.

Lucie had said little to Owen since she returned from the abbey. He had tried to find out more about her encounter with Anselm, but they were interrupted by a customer. Lucie wondered about Bess's assurance that Owen could be trusted. Why would Bess be so sure?

At dusk the shop finally grew quiet. Owen told Lucie what Tildy had said about the Archdeacon's visit.

'Tildy should not tell tales.'

'She was worried for you. So was I.'

'Why?'

'Because he might have hurt you’

Lucie regarded Owen closely. 'You think the Archdeacon would hurt me? Why would you think that?'

Clever, Owen. Walked right into it. He thought fast. 'When voices are raised, it means people are excited. Anything might happen.'

Her smirk reflected his own chagrin at his weak response. 'The whole truth would be a pleasant change from you.'

God help him, he expressed concern and she turned it into an argument. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'No, I don't suppose you would. You can go. I'll close up shop.'

He began to leave, but he had to try to make it up. 'I don't know how I always manage to make you angry with me’

'It doesn't matter.'

'It does.'

'Where were you this morning?'

'I had to see Jehannes about my money.'

'Tom Merchet said you left quite early.'

'I couldn't sleep.'

'Come early tomorrow. I've sent for my Aunt Phillippa. I'll need to prepare a place for her to sleep, so I'll need you in the shop.'

'You've sent for your aunt?'

'Nicholas is worse every day. I need her here.'

'Who did you send?'

'Bess's stable boy. She offered.'

Owen would have liked to go. Dame Phillippa was someone he would like to talk to. Alone. Away from Lucie. 'Why not me?'

'I need you here’ she said, but her tone did not make it a compliment.

Owen headed for the minster. He wanted to tell Thoresby what Magda Digby had told him about Potter Digby's death. The Archbishop stood at a table, studying an array of maps.

'What is it?' Thoresby asked.