The Apothecary Rose

Philiippa had left the day before, with misgivings. 'I should not leave you so soon. You have not even tried a night in the room they died in. Some people find it frightening. Though Heaven knows, others must have died here before Nicholas and Anselm. It is knowing it. Having seen Nicholas here in his shroud — '

'Please, Aunt Phillippa.' Her constant chatter would drive Lucie mad. 'You have been here when I needed you most. I can tell you're worrying about Sir Robert and Freythorpe. A fortnight is long enough to be gone.'

Phillippa sighed. 'You do seem to have things under control.' She looked round the tidy kitchen with satisfaction.

Lucie smiled. It was Phillippa and Tildy, not she herself, who had thoroughly cleaned the house. 'I am sure that Tildy will keep this room clean now you've trained her.'

Phillippa straightened a bench. 'She's a good girl. Your Guildmaster has done right by you.'

'And the Archbishop’

'Hmpf. It was in his own interest to keep silent about the matter. I would not waste too much gratitude on him, child.'

'Will you tell Sir Robert about Nicholas and Geoffrey?'

'I have prayed over that. I fear it might send Robert off on another pilgrimage. But I think he ought to be told. Who knows? A sense of the circle closing might wake him up to the world again. He might even think to come see his daughter’

Lucie thought of that this morning, and did not know how she felt about the prospect. She had banished Sir Robert from her thoughts fifteen years ago. And before that he had been more of an ogre than a parent.

But the thought of him and Aunt Phillippa at Freythorpe Hadden, thinking of her, made her feel less alone.

She had never been so alone. As a child she had slept with her mother or her aunt. At the convent she had shared a room with other girls. And then she had come to Nicholas's bed. Suddenly she was all alone. And would be so indefinitely.

Dreary thoughts. Perhaps Phillippa had gone too soon. But Owen was to return from St. Mary's today.

Owen. The thought of his return cheered her. Silly. She could hardly expect him to keep up the ruse of apprenticing to her. Some pilgrim to the abbey may have offered him a post already. He might not even stop in to say good-bye.

More dreary thoughts. Even the quince blossoms could not cheer her. Lucie scooped Melisende up from the foot of the bed and cuddled her. The cat had been sleeping peacefully. Now she opened an eye to see why she had been disturbed. And, seeing her mistress's teary face bent over her, applied a rough tongue to the tears.

'I thought if I had the shop I would be quite content,' Lucie whispered into Melisende's warm fur, 'but I had not thought what it would be like all alone.' She put the cat down and got out of bed. The best antidote for this sort of mood is hard work’

She had just poked the fire to life and started breakfast when Owen came in with a load of wood.

Lucie's heart skipped a beat. 'I hardly expected you so early.' She turned away from Owen to hide the relief on her face.

'I am sure there is much to be done.'

'I have managed.'

He stacked the wood by the hearth while she prepared the porridge.

They ate for a while in silence. Lucie tried to think how to ask Owen what his plans were, why he was here.

Owen broke the silence first. 'Jehannes is to be the new Archdeacon of York.'

'Is that good?'

'I think he is an excellent man.'

Lucie nodded, staring at her bowl.

'And Michaelo is replacing Jehannes’ Owen said.

'That does not seem such a wise choice’

'I would agree with you there. The Archbishop says that Michaelo feels he has been given a second chance at Heaven, and that will make him loyal’ Owen's tone said the Archbishop was a fool.

Lucie was surprised. 'You do not care for the Arch-bishop?'

'No,' Owen looked angry. 'Michaelo's family bought him.'

At the moment Lucie did not want her trust in the Archbishop undermined, so she changed the subject, 'Did you while away all your time at the abbey in gossip? Were you not to decide what to do with yourself now?'

Owen looked guarded. 'Has the Archbishop spoken with you?'

'Yes. I am to have the shop for my silence. And you? Has he spoken to you?'

'He told you nothing else?'

'What else was there to tell?'

'Anything about me?'

'He said you wanted to find honest work’

'That is all?'

'Yes, Owen. What did you think?'

'I want to remain here. As your apprentice.'

Her eyes opened wide, then her face lit in a grin. 'You are joking’

'No’

'I cannot imagine you being content with that’

'I can imagine it’

'You are running away from life’

'From my old life, yes’

'You will itch for action’

'Then I will go out in the garden and work up a sweat. Chop wood. Dig holes. Move trees’

Lucie laughed.

Owen was disappointed. He'd been a fool to hope. He should have known she would not agree. 'You still think of me as a soldier. You have condemned me to that life forever’

'I'm sorry.'

'People can change, but you'll never believe it. Where would you be if Nicholas had assumed you could be happy only as lady of the manor? Would you have liked spending the rest of your life in a convent?'

Lucie blushed. 'Someone else might have asked for my hand.'

There he went, insulting her. Jesus Lord, he had an unlucky tongue. 'That is not the point. I have told you more times than I can count that I am finished with soldiering. Why won't you believe it?'

'Why should I believe anything you say? You insinuated yourself into my household with a lie. You sneaked around and lied about what you were doing. Oh, surely, now you say that you want to be my apprentice, but how do I know that you're not still in the Archbishop's employ? Keeping an eye on me, perhaps? Just in case Widow Wilton was a poisoner after all?' She was shouting at him, as if her voice were a whip with which to hurt him for hurting her.

Owen stood up. 'I never wanted to lie to you.'

'Nevertheless, you did.'

'I also saved your life.'

Lucie bit her tongue.

'I'm a fool to keep trying to make you believe me. You rejected me the moment you saw me.' Owen walked towards the door.

'Please sit down, Owen. I don't mean to argue with you whenever we speak.'

He turned. 'Perhaps it's a sign that my apprenticeship is a bad idea.'

'What would the Archbishop think of this plan?'

Owen realised that she was stalling. She did not want him to walk out the door. All right. He would see where this led. He returned to the table. 'I told him what I planned. He did not object.'

'He did not tell me.'

'I thought he would.'

Lucie picked up the dishes, wiped off the table, then sat down across from him again. 'Aunt Phillippa left yesterday. I could use help. At least until the Guildmaster can find another apprentice.'

'Try me out.'

She sighed. 'I have to, don't I? I signed a contract. The Guildmaster witnessed it.'

'When I lied, I forfeited any right to hold you to the contract.'

'You have been far more helpful than an ordinary apprentice.'

And he continued to be, on through the spring. At first Lucie watched him, wondering why he stayed, and if perhaps the Archbishop had actually planted him there to watch her. But Owen stuck with his work all day, accompanied her to Mass on Sundays, and, according to Bess, met with no suspicious drinking companions at the tavern. Unless he did not sleep, Owen had no time to work for anyone but her. So Lucie relaxed. She let him work on his own more, and accepted his suggestions when she agreed with them. There even came an evening — it would have been Nicholas's birthday — when Lucie needed company and invited Owen to stay after the meal and sing to her. As before, his voice moved her. Cheered her. She realised how fond she'd grown of his crooked smile, the birdlike way he moved his head to see everything with the one eye, even the way he argued with her when she was being stubborn. She liked having him here in front of the hearth with her at the end of the day.