Page 12 of The Forgotten
“Things have changed somewhat since you were last here. My sons are grown men and no longer feel the need to heed a mother who’s in her dotage. Robert established a household of his own years ago, but Thomas has recently returned, having lost his wife and married off his daughter. He’s taken over the business from me, so I don’t see much of him. I am here alone most days. The only person I see is Father Avery. I have servants to do the lowly work. What I need is a companion.” Lady Blythe burst out laughing when she saw Petra’s look of shock.
“Is spending time with me more off-putting than scrubbing pots, girl?”
“No, lady. It would be my pleasure to be your companion.”
“So, you’ll do it just for the pleasure of it?” the old lady cackled.
“No, lady. I don’t have the luxury of donating my time for free. I have a family to feed,” Petra replied, angry that the old woman was goading her.
“No, you don’t the luxury. I will pay you a fair wage. In return, you will sit with me, read to me, pray with me, and eat with me. Can you read?”
“Yes, lady. I know my letters.”
“Who taught you?” Lady Blythe demanded. Most women in Dunwich were illiterate, as were the men. They had no need of reading as long as they knew how to count.
“My stepfather. He was taught his letters by his uncle, who was a priest,” Petra replied. That wasn’t strictly true. She’d been taught by her mother, who’d been taught by her own father, but it wouldn’t do to tell Lady Blythe that a woman so far beneath her own station knew how to read, when Lady Blythe probably didn’t.
“I will read any book you like,” Petra said, instantly regretting her choice of words when she saw the thunderous look that passed over Lady Blythe’s features.
“The only book Ilikeis the Bible, you dimwit. You will read the Holy Scriptures, and you will treat them with reverence. Is that understood?”
“Yes, lady.”
“You may start tomorrow. I will not expect you to live here since you have children, but you will arrive at seven and remain until I’m ready for my bed. Don’t look so horrified. I retire early these days. I will pay you once a month and include your meals in the bargain. Here,” Lady Blythe reached into the pocket of her gown and produced several coins. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t desperate. Buy food for your family, enough to tide you over until you receive your wages. Now go.”
“Thank you, lady,” Petra breathed, grateful despite her animosity toward the woman. Perhaps she’d misjudged her.
Petra fled before Lady Blythe had a change of heart and went directly to the market. She steeled her heart against the eel pie and instead bought a bag of grain, several herrings to fry fortheir supper, and a jar of lard for cooking. She also purchased several marrow bones, with bits of meat still clinging to the smooth surfaces, and a couple of onions. She would leave the rest of the money with Maude. Her mother enjoyed going to the market and would make the coins stretch further than Petra would.
Petra wished that she’d brought her basket. There was nothing to carry her purchases in, and no one was kind enough to give her a sack or a wooden crate. It was slow going and awkward, but she finally managed to get her loot home, smiling widely as she came through the door.
“Herrings for supper,” Petra announced happily as she handed the bones wrapped in flax to her mother and set down the bag of grain.
“She’s received you, then?” Maude asked.
“I start tomorrow.”
“Praise the Blessed Virgin,” Maude exclaimed, crossing herself. “Our Holy Mother is looking after us.”
TWELVE
JANUARY 2014
Near Sheffield, England
“Move over and let me drive for a while,” Quinn said when they stopped at a petrol station to fill the tank and get a snack. They were about halfway to Edinburgh, with at least another four hours ahead of them. The day was fairly mild, a hazy winter sunshine lighting their way as they sped along. The fields glistened with last night’s frost and the trees created intricate designs against the pale-blue sky.
“I’m all right,” Gabe protested as he turned toward the driver’s side.
“No, you’re not. You barely slept last night, and you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. You look like death warmed over,” Quinn said, exaggerating a bit to prove her point. “Here, I got you a ham sandwich and a cup of tea.”
Gabe smiled ruefully, knowing when he was beaten. “Yes, ma’am. I will eat the sandwich and take a nap. And if you do anything to my beloved Jaguar while I sleep, there will be hell to pay.”
“Oh, give me some credit,” Quinn protested. “I can drive in a straight line, and as long as some tree doesn’t jump out at me, I think I can manage to keep your ride safe.”
Gabe’s arched eyebrow said it all, but he obediently handed over the keys and settled into the passenger seat where heunwrapped the sandwich, made a face of distaste, but took a bite anyway, chewing obediently. For someone who could barely boil an egg, Gabe was quite a connoisseur when it came to eating out, and a sandwich from the petrol station was not up to his usual standards.
“Just eat,” Quinn said, silencing whatever he was about to say. “You don’t have to enjoy it.”
