Page 42 of Bane Bloom

“I’ll need half an hour for my business here. I’ll come for you at The Mill after?”

My voice stuck in my throat, and my heart thumped. I simply nodded.

Once he’d gone and I could breathe again, my gaze found the dry goods shop across the road from The Mill. I noticed a cart parked in front, and a man loading a burlap sack into the back with some others. I fished my letters from my satchel and walked over to the shop, approaching the slotted collection box that I’d noticed on my first day here.

“You’ll want to hand those over to me, miss.” I turned and found the man with the cart eyeing me from his seat. “It’ll be the difference in your letters arriving in a couple days, with good luck and godspeed, or more than a week.”

“You’re the carrier,” I said, finally understanding him.

“Aye, miss. I only collect and deliver out here once a week.”

Though I wished I’d written a longer letter to Papa, how grateful I was that he would soon receive word of my safe arrival. I handed my letters up, and he added them to his sack.

“I’m in your debt, sir,” I said, and he tipped his hat and clucked to his horse.

As the cart pulled away, I wondered how soon I could expect an answer from Mr. Harding—or, in truth, whether he’d answer at all. It had taken them six months to send a replacement for Mr. Carroll; the work Harding had asked me to do was obviously not the Society’s highest priority.

Or maybe none of the apothecaries were willing to come here after Carroll. Then I’d arrived at their gate, all eager to please.

Though Annie had visited me just yesterday morning, that felt like a lifetime ago, and I was very much looking forward to seeing a friendly face. I walked toward the inn’s entrance, which faced a stone bridge over a pretty, chuckling stream. The water flowed frothy from a small wood that snugged its banks, then down a winding, mossy stone channel before washing over a wide granite slab beneath the bridge. I caught glints of blue-purple through the trees—a few bluebells dotting the streambanks. Closing my eyes, I listened to the rush of water for a few moments before going into the inn.

The homely aromas of bread baking and meat and vegetables stewing made my stomach growl, reminding me I’d had a meager breakfast today.

A few men sat at the bar, two of them Londoners by their look—decked out for fishing, but in a way that I couldn’t imagine a local would dress. Thomas seemed to dress the same no matter what he was doing—loose shirt and buff trousers with braces and boots, adding a well-worn waistcoat, overcoat, and cap when he came to the village.

My thoughts were drifting to the working of Thomas’s shoulders and arms as he rowed us on the lake when a door behind the bar swung open and Annie came out with a tray. She carried it to the table nearest the fire, where I’d sat on my first day, and set steaming dishes before the couple seated there.

“You let me know if you need anything else,” she told them. They thanked her, and she looked up and around to see who’d come in. A smile spread over her face, and I felt one spreading over mine, too. “Sit down anywhere,” she called. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

I went to a table in front of a window that gave a view of the valley, with its pastureland and many sheep. I’d seen plenty of sheep when Papa and I had gone on our outings across the river, but none like these Cumberland ones, with their shaggy gray wool. The lambs, which were mostly black, were putting on quite a show, leaping and chasing each other around the adults.

After a few minutes, Annie came out again from the kitchen. She stopped to pull pints for the men at the bar before bringing a dish over to my table. She placed it before me and sank down in the other chair with a huff.

“Now, everyone should be set long enough for us to have a chat,” she said. “How are you?”

“How are you, Annie?” I replied. “You look tired.”

Her hand went to her belly. “This little one is using up a lot of my strength these days, but I’m well enough.”

“I can imagine,” I said. “Well, I suppose I should say I can only imagine.”

Her brow furrowed, though her smile remained. “Do you ever think of having your own?”

Not unlike Thomas, Annie had a way of going right to the heart of things, and I suspected that dancing around sensitive topics was a citified habit. “I have at times,” I said, “but I’m not sure I’ll ever marry.”

Her hands came together on the tabletop. “You don’t want a husband? I mean, not that I’d blame you. I envy your independence.”

“It’s true, I do have more independence than most married women, and unmarried ones, honestly. But it’s not just that. Most men of my station want a wife who’ll raise their own station or fortune, and I can offer neither. Besides that, my father doesn’t have many more years at his painting, so anyone I married would be taking on responsibility for both of us.”

“Is that why you’re working for the apothecaries?”

“It is. Or rather, it’s the reason I’m seeking a position with them. This posting is a kind of audition.” Annie’s expression had sobered during this exchange, and I smiled and tried to lighten the mood. “I do enjoy the work here, though. And making new friends.”

Her smile returned, and I glanced down at the dish in front of me. Dark gravy oozed from beneath a “crust” of thinly sliced potatoes. “What have you brought me, Annie? It smells delicious.”

“It’s only cottage pie,” she said, though she looked pleased. “Tell me what has brought you to town today. Is Thomas with you?”

I cut through the potatoes and unearthed mushrooms, onions, and cubes of mutton. “Thomas had errands, and he asked if I wanted to come. I came to see you.”