Page 48 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

Mother Ames was scrutinizing Oswald, who was now leant against the house and who looked like he had broken into a light sweat. She disappeared back into the cottage for a moment and then reappeared with a cup in her hand which she handed wordlessly to him. She turned back towards Linnet and her page, who were watching with interest. “You stay out here with this young man, Cuthbert. Make sure he drinks his draught down.” She nodded at Linnet. “You may come in, milady and welcome.”

Linnet slid off the stone wall and approached the cottage. “You have a pretty garden, Mother Ames,” she said, admiring the way the flowers were sown in among the vegetables in a huge jumble.

“Lots of useful herbs,” nodded the older woman. “’Tis my livelihood.” She held the door open for Linnet who entered and looked about her with curiosity. Indeed, she had never been in a cottage before and Mother Ames’s cottage had so much to look at.

Every surface was covered in bunches of flowers and drying herbs. There was a fireplace with a hearth but this was not the focal point of the room. That was a large square table in the center of the room that was overlarge for the proportions of the room and covered in implements and apparatus. There were also little bowls full of seeds and mirrors, a mortar and pestle, and a whole array of candles. There was a large book on the table with yellowing pages, but even as Linnet marveled that Mother Ames could read, she noticed that the script was not anything that she herself could read. They looked like small pictorial symbols rather than letters.

Mother Ames cleared her throat, drawing Linnet’s attention. “You are looking well, milady.” She said approvingly. “Married life clearly agrees with you.”

“Yes, I believe so,” agreed Linnet, taking a seat on a wooden stool as her hostess bade her.

The older woman sat down beside her, drawing a jug and a cup towards her. She poured Linnet a cup of pale-green liquid. “You have broken your fast?”

“Oh yes, at least an hour ago. I have done my exercises too as you prescribed.”

Mother Ames nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that,” she said. “Ye have a good color.” She reached for Linnet’s wrist and placed her fingers there a moment before nodding again.

Linnet took a cautious sip of her drink and found it pleasant enough, though it looked a bit like pond water!

“’Tis nutritious juice of plants,” said Mother Ames.

“Is this what you gave my brother-in-law?”

She gave a cackle of laughter. “His had a few added ingredients,” she admitted and tapped her nose. “My secret recipe.”

Linnet smiled.

“You’re here about your freckles, I suppose,” sighed Mother Ames. “The amethyst did not work?”

“Not ostensibly,” admitted Linnet, looking down at her freckled wrists. “However, I thought I’d try it a few more times in case it had a cumulative effect?”

Mother Ames looked intrigued. “Oho! So not the freckles for once?” she said. “Ye want your fortune told?”

“Not precisely,” Linnet colored up. “I was wondering . . . It was something else this time.” She fidgeted on her seat a moment.

Mother Ames narrowed her eyes. “A love philtre?” she hazarded. “To inflame your husband between the sheets?”

Linnet choked on her plant juice. “No, no,” she assured her hurriedly. “’Tis nothing to do with Mason, but rather my own shortcomings . . . I was wondering,” she looked down fleetingly at her slight figure. “Is there not some way to encourage my own comeliness? I am not very . . . womanly.”

Mother Ames eyebrows shot into her grey hair. “The obvious way to ripen curves is to get with child,” she pointed out drily.

“Well, I do want that of course,” agreed Linnet earnestly. “But is there not some salve you could give me in the meantime?”

“Salve?” Mother Ames appeared taken aback.

“To . . . to encourage buxomness,” said Linnet, taking the plunge.

The other woman blinked. Then she stood up and swished across the room in her purple woolen dress. “Hmmm. Let me think . . . ” she muttered. She glanced back at Linnet a moment. “But he is performing satisfactorily?” she asked.

Linnet gazed blankly back at her. “Er, yes?”

“As a husband?” elaborated Mother Ames cautiously.

“Oh yes! I am very happy with him as a husband,” nodded Linnet enthusiastically. “It is only that I worry about myself . . . ”

The other woman looked as if she would say more for a moment but then seemed to stop herself. “Mayhap if ’twould give you more confidence,” she murmured almost to herself. She looked at Linnet again uncertainly and then, as if coming to a quick decision, made for a cupboard on the wall. She opened the door quickly and then banged it shut before Linnet could get a good look. It had looked like a normal kitchen cupboard from what she could see. Mother Ames had a jar in her hand, which she brought back to the table. “This must be used very sparingly,” she cautioned. “It is sticky and you only need to apply a very small amount.”

Linnet clapped her hands together. “Is it an ointment?” she asked.