Outside the gate, he handed her into the carriage. “We’ll be back at Green Hollow for the feast of St Dunstan.”
“Of course we will,” she said, seating herself inside the carriage, the sudden darkness inside making her shiver.
It was a relief to return to Monk’s Place, knowing the first part of their business was concluded. The sun came out from behind grey clouds and lighted their way into the garden, where Thomasin was delighted to see a careful hand had maintained the beautiful planting, and the lawns were freshly scythed. Beyond, the river lay like a bright thread, dotted with small vessels, the outlines of Southwark visible behind them. Lettice had been roaming along the colonnaded walk, but emerged upon seeing them, bright and full of energy as usual.
“There you are! Just look at all this. I have been counting all the flowers, but each time I think I have them, I spot another bush or bed. Isn’t it all glorious?”
“I am glad you like the garden.”
“All these secret little rooms in it, places to sit and read or think. I have seen a robin’s nest too, with blue eggs, but I didn’t touch it. I even went round the side to the kitchen garden and smelled all the herbs. Try this!” She held out a smudge of green between finger and thumb. Thomasin leant in close enough to learn that it was rosemary.
“We are to have lamb tonight, Williams said so,” Lettice went on. “So I have picked this for him to bake with it. And the cook is preparing a sauce with cinnamon and ginger.”
Giles smiled. “I can’t think who you remind me of.”
“Is all your business done now?”
“Some of it,” said Thomasin. “This afternoon we must make a start on uncle’s papers.”
“How dull. Will there be time afterwards to visit the shops?”
“Perhaps tomorrow. You can help us later by going through uncle’s books and seeing what you would like. He has many treaties about science — the humours and the planets, if I recall — but some of the old French romances too, so you might find something to keep you occupied.”
For all her love of ribbons, Thomasin knew her younger sister had an enquiring mind that lapped up information, which had been sorely lacking among the small collection of saints’ lives and psalters at Eastwell Hall. Then she was reminded of another young girl under their roof.
“Lettice, have you seen Mariot this morning?”
“She was in the kitchen garden with the cook earlier. I tried to talk with her, but she was occupied.”
Thomasin nodded, turning to Giles. “I may go and see how she fares. She has been quiet since our arrival.”
“She must find it quite a change after Green Hollow.”
Leaving her husband and sister, Thomasin walked round the side of the house to the brick archway in the wall that led into the kitchen garden. It was empty as she entered, bees humming contentedly above its vast beds of lavender, but the kitchen door stood open, and the sounds of a knife chopping on a wooden block could be heard. Thomasin hovered outside.
“Hello?”
The head of an elderly woman appeared, white-haired under her cap, knife in hand. She put it behind her back when she saw Thomasin standing there.
“My lady?”
“Cook? I trust all is well?”
“All good, my lady. We shall have a tender piece of lamb for you tonight. I’ve lots of experience; I worked at court a while, then York Place for the old cardinal, then Durham Place, and now here.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your experience. Has Miss Mariot been helping you?”
“She has done the best she can, my lady, but she lacks experience.”
“Yes, this is her first position. I trust you will guide her and give her the benefit of your wisdom?”
“Of course, it will be my pleasure.”
“Is she about?”
“I have sent her up with herbs for the bedrooms.”
“Then I will seek her there and let you return to your labours.”
