“So we shall go?”
“Yes, straight after breakfast.”
“You’re sure…” Lettice began, hesitantly, “you’re sure we won’t be punished in some way? Struck down on the ride back, or afflicted with some terrible disease?”
Thomasin sighed. “That is not how God works, sister. You must forget this idea of a vengeful, punishing God and think of him more like a father. Of course he will not punish us for continuing to live. It was his will that Uncle Matthew go to him, and his will that we remain here on earth, with all the bountyhe has provided. We are not nuns or servants; we have our own will and make our choices with respect and love for him and our uncle.”
“That’s very comforting,” said Lettice, smiling. “But look, I have dropped my stitch. Will you please thread the needle again for me? I do not have the patience.”
“Of course. It’s not so hard when you’ve practised.”
Thomasin took the needle and thread, sucked the end, squinted and passed it back through the tiny hole on the first attempt.
“You know,” said Lettice, jumping up instead of taking it back, “I’m tired of sitting still. My legs are restless. Why don’t we go and check on the violet cordial for Ellen?”
Thomasin secured the needle in the collar with a smile. “Yes, let’s go and do that.”
FOUR
The following morning, as the sun was beginning to climb above the trees, Thomasin called for the horses to be brought round to the front of the house. She had dressed in her grey riding habit, trimmed with cherry silk, ready for the half-hour ride to Dedham. The roads were pleasant enough, set amid rolling countryside dotted with sheep and fields of barley, passing through a couple of hamlets along the way. She was to take Rogers, their steward, along with them, and Nell, one of the laundry girls. Their part of the world was peaceful enough but for women particularly, it was still safer to travel in numbers.
Lettice arrived on the front steps, flushed with her hurry to get dressed. That morning, she had proudly selected a new bonnet that Thomasin had given her, plain and suitable for her age, but edged with a vibrant forest green. Thomasin smiled to see the pleasure it gave her; she was reaching that age now when she was starting to take notice of her appearance, moving from girlhood towards womanhood. Lettice looked up at the sky.
“It’s going to rain, you know.”
Thomasin followed her gaze. The skies looked clear enough to her. “Is it? How do you know?”
“There’s that smell in the air. Can’t you smell it?”
Thomasin breathed in deeply. Now that Lettice mentioned it, there was a note of freshness under the usual garden scents.
“Probably a passing shower.”
“Maybe. I hope so. I don’t want to miss out on the saffron tarts.”
“You know we have marigolds in the garden, and they have quite the same…”
“No!” Lettice groaned. “Marigolds might also be bright yellow, but they don’t taste at all like saffron! They’re nowhere near as sweet.”
“All right,” said Thomasin with a laugh, seeing her own younger self in the girl. “I do not profess to be an expert in tarts. I will eat both saffron and marigold quite indiscriminately.”
“Then they are wasted on you!” Lettice complained.
Rogers appeared with the horses, ready and saddled. “Looks like rain, my lady.”
“There!” said Lettice. “What did I say?”
Thomasin looked at the skies again, wondering whether or not to postpone their plans.
Giles came striding around the side of the house, wearing his best cloak and leather boots.
Thomasin looked at him approvingly, noticing that he was wearing his gold chains underneath. “You look very smart.”
“Thank you. I thought I would ride over to Manningtree, as Sir Erasmus Paston is staying in the town.”
Paston came originally from a Norfolk family, but was the MP for nearby Orford, a useful man to know.
“Oh,” he added, looking at the skies, “it looks like rain, though.”
