So it is all my fault, Henrietta thought bleakly. Even her beloved friend thought so. Was that another reason Matthew had been so cold?
*
‘So you believe I am worrying unduly?’ Henrietta asked.
Widow Perrott touched her hand reassuringly with her own work-worn fingers. ‘Yes, Mistress. You are young, strong and healthy. You have a lusty bridegroom.’ She ignored Henrietta's telling blush. ‘You have not been married long. Do not be impatient and nature will take its course. Worry less, anxiety will hinder conception.’
‘That is well to say, but difficult advice to follow.’ None the less she was relieved by the wisewoman's reassurance.
‘You have lost your rosy glow, child.’ The older woman peered at her closely in the dim light filtering through the oiled parchment covering the few windows. ‘Do you sleep well in this heat? No? Well, I have a remedy for that at least.’
Henrietta sat back on the long settle by the hearth and watched Widow Perrott sort through the array of wooden boxes on a long shelf, muttering to herself as she did so.
‘Grated valerian root… not too much of that, for it is a powerful sleeping draught, dried mint, camomile. Now where did I put that lavender?’ She found a bundle and rubbed a handful of the flowers off the stems on to the other herbs on a linen cloth. She put the tied bundle on Henrietta's lap. ‘Now, infuse this mixture with boiling water for the usual time and take a small glassful an hour before you want to sleep.’
‘Does it taste bitter?’ Henrietta hated taking medicines.
‘The taste is not a pleasant one, but you could add honey. It will soothe your nerves, help you to relax. Now tell me, how is Mistress Weldon going along?’
‘Well, but tired in this heat. And she tries to do too much, despite all her husband and I advise.’
‘That will be a large child.’ The wisewoman shook her head. ‘You must persuade her to rest more, and I will walk up tomorrow to see her. Meanwhile, do not concern yourself for her. I will be with her in November when she comes to term. Here, you could take her this.’ She lifted a small phial from the shelf. ‘It will strengthen both her and the child.’
‘What is it?’ Henrietta regarded the oily yellow liquid doubtfully.
‘Raspberry leaves, yarrow and lady's mantle. She knows to add honey for taste.’
‘I must go, the household will be wondering where I have got to.’ Henrietta rose, stooping under the low lintel, and pressed a coin into the woman's palm.
‘And your fond husband too, I'll be bound.’
Henrietta smiled uncertainly. ‘Yes, he too, of course.’ If only he meant what he'd said that afternoon, if only they could regain the companionship they had begun to build.
She latched the wicket gate in the fence around Mistress Perrott's small, crowded garden to keep out any wandering livestock and stepped out on to the roadway to Winterbourne. Seconds later she collided with a man; the figure was immediately familiar.
‘Your pardon, Mistress.’ Nathaniel Cobham bowed stiffly and stepped back from her.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Oh! Cobham… it was my fault; I was not attending to where I was going.’ Henrietta forced herself to speak amiably, determined not to let the clerk see her distaste for him.
‘You mind was on other matters, no doubt.’ His eyes flicked to the low thatched cottage behind them, then to the bundle in her hand. ‘May I carry that for you?’
He put out a hand and Henrietta drew back instinctively. ‘Thank you, you are kind, but it is not heavy, a few herbs only to replenish our stillroom.’ She was doing it again, falling into the trap of justifying her actions to this man who was nothing to her, however loyal a servant to Matthew. ‘You are a long way from the house, Master Cobham.’
If she had hoped to disconcert him she had failed. ‘Yes,’ he agreed calmly.
‘Your master has sent you on some errand perhaps?’ she persisted with a touch of hauteur.
‘Sir Matthew gives me wide discretion in the exercise of my duties.’ He stood, apparently respectful, but allowing for the first time his dislike of her to colour his tone.
‘And just what might those duties be, Cobham?’ she asked, nettled.
‘I do not discuss my master's business with anyone, madam.’ He ignored the angry spots of colour staining Henrietta's cheeks. ‘Allow me to escort you home, Lady Sheridan.’ He made it quite clear he considered her part of his business and not for the first time Henrietta was convinced he was spying on her.
Stiff-backed, Henrietta stalked up the road. ‘Very well. I believe we are both going in the same direction.’
‘Mistress Perrott has some small reputation for her healing… powers.’ He managed to make the suggestion sound sinister.