A Spy for the Redeemer Read Free Page B

more. Then fast for two days, drinking only water, eating nothing. After that, eat moderately and take no medicines.’
    ‘You have found no counterpoison.’ A statement, made an accusation by her tone.
    ‘That regimen is the remedy. I believe you mixed valerian with skullcap.’
    ‘Have a care, Lucie Wilton. I could ruin you.’
    Ungrateful wretch, Lucie thought. But she merely said, ‘I cannot believe you wish to do that, Alice.’
    Lucie glanced up at the sound of a door opening and shutting across the street.
    ‘May God go with you, Mistress Baker, Mistress Wilton.’ Roger Moreton smiled as he crossed the street from his house. Another man followed in his wake. Lucie mirrored Roger’s smile – how did he manage to be there when she needed him?
    ‘Master Moreton.’ Alice Baker simpered, then remembered herself and turned so that her jaundiced face was in shadow.
    Roger was a handsome man, clear-featured and solidly built. He always seemed delighted with life, his eyes twinkling, his colour high.
    ‘Can you believe it?’ said Roger rather breathlessly. ‘Just as I mentioned your name, I turned, and there you were. Is it not so, Harold?’
    ‘Quite so.’
    ‘God go with you, gentlemen, Mistress Wilton.’ Alice hurried off.
    Lucie had paid no attention to Roger’s companion. Now she looked up into the stranger’s eyes. Sweet heaven but they were remarkably blue. He gave her an oddly formal bow.
    ‘You spoke of me?’ she asked Roger.
    ‘I lied. But that terrible woman. She will insist on blaming you for her foolishness.’
    ‘It is difficult to accept that one is a fool,’ Lucie said. ‘But I thank you. And you,’ she said to the stranger.
    He in turn glanced uncertainly at Roger.
    ‘Forgive my discourtesy,’ Roger said hurriedly. ‘Mistress Wilton, this is Harold Galfrey. He is to be my household steward when I move to St Saviour.’ Although he lived alone, Roger had recently purchased a large house in another parish in the city. It had increased the frenzy of the rumours regarding his choice for the next Mistress Moreton.
    Lucie would not have guessed the man to be a steward. With his tanned skin and sun-bleached hair he did not seem one who spent his days inside, organising a household. Neither was his physique that of such a man. However, his attire was appropriate for a household steward. His clothes had been chosen with an eye to cut and fabric, and yet in such muted colours they would offend no one or call attention to him. ‘You are fortunate to find yourself in Master Moreton’s household,’ she said.
    ‘I am indeed, Mistress Wilton,’ said Harold.
    ‘I must be going now. I have much to do before I leave for the country.’ She needed time to talk to Brother Michaelo as well as arrange for a Requiem Mass for her father. And though she had shut the shop, she hoped Jasper might catch up with replenishing the stores – so there was much to discuss. ‘Thank you for rescuing me. God’s blessing on your day.’
    ‘Leave for the country?’ said Roger. ‘What takes you to the country?’
    Lucie had no one to blame but herself for mentioning the journey, for knowing Roger, he would wish to hear everything and then offer assistance. ‘I received word yesterday of my father’s death, while on pilgrimage in Wales. I must go to Freythorpe Hadden to tell my aunt.’
    ‘God rest his soul,’ Roger said. ‘I must do something. I shall accompany you.’
    ‘You are kind. But I shall stay several days. You cannot leave your business so long.’
    He nodded, frowning. ‘But you need an escort.’ He brightened. ‘Harold is idle until I am in the new house. He shall escort you.’ Roger looked pleased with his inspiration.
    Harold looked perplexed.
    Lucie had no time to argue. ‘Thank you, Master Moreton. I shall consider your offer.’

Two
    PRAYERS UNANSWERED
     
    H igh on a cliff that hung over the white-capped sea, threading along a path through a bowl-shaped meadow ringed by low,