Mid-snore, she startled awake.
“William!” Her daze quickly cleared as she dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “When did you arrive?”
“Just in time to behold a truly delightful tableau.” He closed his eyes and went slack-jawed in imitation of her.
“Cruel boy,” she said, narrowing her eyes before offering him her cheek. As he leaned to kiss it, she squeezed his arm affectionately.
“You must be peckish. Sit, won’t you?” Reaching for the handbell, she clanged it loudly.
Even before he had settled on a chair, she began to tell him about a letter she had received that morning from someone he had never met, nor even heard of.
Yet reading it must have thrilled her, as she lives here all alone now. Poor old hen.
A maid entered, delivering a heavily laden tray.
Her tale not yet ended, Joan began to pour the tea while Alwyn plated the prettiest Madeira cake for her, then a smaller one for himself.
When his aunt was silenced at last by a mouthful of lemon sponge, he said, “Aunt, you’ll be pleased to know that Dr Felix has entrusted me to treat his patients whilst he is off in Yorkshire.”
She brushed crumbs from her smiling lips as she hurried to swallow.
“Of course, he has! And with your examination later this month, you are on the cusp of accomplishing everything you set out to do. I am so proud!” She burst out in laughter. “I’ll never forget when you confessed your preposterous scheme to me, insisting you most certainly could be a doctoras well asa viscount! Who ever heard of such a thing? And, unbelievably, your father had no quarrel with it — I thought you both moonstruck!”
“Yet you became my fiercest ally.” He reached over to pat her hand.
“I’ve always been a bit of a fool,” she said archly. “More tea?
***
Just as the sky was lightening the next morning, Alwyn rose from bed. Though his clothes press held many fine garments, he donned the plainest of them as he found them the most comfortable to both his person and his mind. After a hasty breakfast that Carrow brought straight to him, he left the house, chafing his hands together against the cold. He was headed for the stables when the thunk of an axe caught his attention. Across the bailey, a familiar figure stood. Though much aged, Ward the Woodsman was as sinewy and spry as ever. Alwyn couldn’t help but stare.
I believe that’s the same woolen snood on his head.And the very axe in his hands!
He walked towards the fellow. “Good morning.”
Looking up, Ward jerked his head in acknowledgment, then carried on with his work.
He doesn’t know me,Alwyn thought as another log fell prey to the expertly wielded sharp edge.That’s no wonder as last he saw me, I was a foot shorter, with a chin as bald as Carrow’s pate.
As Ward turned to grab another round, he saw Alwyn studying him, and his look of faint perplexity darkened into something approaching irritation.
“Pardon me for staring. You just…you make that look so easy.”
This lifted one corner of the man’s mouth.
“Well, I been doin’ it all me life, so I’d ‘ope ’tis easy to one such as meself. Wha’d you do ‘ere at the Castle?”
What do Idohere?Alwyn was dumbfounded, then remembered he was wearing humble garb. An odd sense of pride warmed his limbs at being mistaken for a workman.
Not waiting for an answer, the woodsman went on. “Choppin’ ain’t ‘ard once you know what yer doin’.”
He picked up a round and placed it on the block, holding the axe high for Alwyn’s observation.
“Ya put the knots downward so they won’t parry the bit’s blow.”
It was clear now this was a lesson, and Alwyn was eager to hear it.
“With yer stance wide, ya keep yer right ‘and up near the ‘ead, and yer left down at the ‘andle’s end.”
