Bathsheba Spooner: a Novel by Deborah Navas

Author:Deborah Navas [Navas, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626757370
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2013-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Aqua Fortis

Bathsheba awakens startled to see the sky growing luminous through the hayloft’s small window and shakes his shoulder urgently. “Quick. Go get up the fire and say I went to the backhouse if he’s in the kitchen.”

“Who?” He asks as he rubs his eyes.

Her clothing is covered in hay that won’t brush off. “Look at the time.” She points to the window. “If he or Mrs. Stratton are in the kitchen, just say you overslept. “Hurry!”

A sullen expression flits over his face and is gone. He says nothing but climbs down the ladder as she folds and hides the blankets.

“Please, please forgive my rudeness in the barn,” she whispers to him as he carries a load of wood toward the kitchen door. She hurries past him to open it.

“Nothing to forgive.” He says. Cummings and Mrs. Stratton stare at them as they enter the kitchen.

“I thought I heard something bothering the horses,” she says, and hurries up the back stairway to change her clothes. Mrs. Stratton and Alex know.

She tears her bed apart to make it look slept in, and shucks off her serge bodice and skirt, stuffing them beneath the tick. Her face in the looking glass is lined and pale. Stripped naked. Back flayed raw. An old woman stares back at her with the eyes of a cornered animal. She must calm herself before her husband smells the fear on her. She brushes bits of straw from her hair and gathers it beneath a decent cap and ties her dressing gown.

In the kitchen Mrs. Stratton is busy spreading butter on several sweet-smelling little cakes. Alex Cummings sits by the fire, doing nothing, as usual.

“Where are Mr. Spooner and Mr. Ross?” From the corner of her eye she sees Alex looking her over, top to toes. She reminds herself to ask her husband to dismiss him.

“They’re sitting at breakfast, Missus, waiting on you.” Mrs. Stratton’s face appears flushed, and she refuses to look at her. Mrs. Stratton and Alex know.

“But where are Elizabeth and the baby?” Her heart races—threatening panic, and she can’t remember when she last laid eyes on either of the girls.

“They’re both fine. Mrs. Tufts came for Elizabeth yesterday. Don’t you remember? The baby is still asleep in my bed yet, poor little mite.”

“Of course.” Her color rises at the slip. She’d entirely forgotten that Martha took Elizabeth so the child wouldn’t have to walk all the way to school in the frigid weather. Something Elizabeth’s own mother should have thought of when the weather turned so cold, Martha said.

“Would you bring some peppermint tea to the sitting room? My stomach is bad,” she says, turning with her hand on the sitting room door latch. Mrs. Stratton’s glance falls to her waist and then quickly away.

She braces herself for her husband’s eyes but he doesn’t look up, busy talking to Ross as she sits down at the far end of the table. Ezra passes the bowl of brown pudding to her, but she shakes her head no.

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