to her nose and sniffed deeply.
When had Cook done this? she wondered. Or had Adam? She dismissed the thought as soon as it came to her. Don’t be daft, she scolded herself. The magistrate’s son was not likely to be making the beds of his servants. More likely, he had hired a local lass to take care of it. Still, it was kind, she thought as she gratefully snuggled in the clean sheets, exhausted after the long journey. No chance of weevils or bedbugs biting her legs, which she had feared. In her last waking thought, she blessed the small kindness.
* * *
Over the long summer of 1666, Lucy saw little of Adam or the magistrate, as they were both involved with restoring the Inns of Court to some semblance of order. On the few occasions she did see Adam, he seemed intent on ignoring her. The one or two times she directly addressed him, he answered her curtly, so, out of embarrassment and anger, she soon stopped trying. Only once did she see an expression of regret on his face, which further fueled her sense of shame.
Cook mentioned once that Master Adam spent a great deal of time at Lord Embry’s when he was not in session. “Everyone expects him and Lady Judith to be betrothed within a fortnight or two. Most likely before Master Adam sets out on the circuit.”
Lucy just nodded, trying to ignore Cook’s knowing and sympathetic gaze.
* * *
Gingerly stepping through the streets, Lucy skirted the piles of debris that still littered the walkways. Haggard men with yellow eyes, faces drawn from the miseries they had suffered, drove carts led by bony horses. As the August sun beat down, she hoped the city government would start sending the raker around again. The new mayor’s efforts to clean up the city were slow, but at least the streets were less foul than when she had first braved them upon their return.
At the market, Lucy walked listlessly among the stalls. At the butcher’s stand, she inspected the sad, stringy meat arrayed before her on a bed of straw. Everyone, whether peddling or buying, looked gaunt and beaten by the tragedy of the previous year.
The normal happy din of the marketplace had been replaced by a sense of feverish desperation that made Lucy’s stomach churn. You must buy my wares, Lucy seemed to hear. My kids are sick, and my husband, he died. The rent is due, and the master won’t keep me long if I can’t empty out my basket. And from those without coin, eying the straggly baskets of others, Feed me! Clothe me! Why should you have what I need? Give me! Give me!
Looking away from the misery surrounding her, Lucy noticed a flash of blue. A woman, her back to Lucy, was wearing a blue cloak that looked exactly the same as one Bessie had once loved. As the butcher handed Lucy a cut of meat tied in string, she idly watched the girl walk through the stalls. Her hood slipped, revealing an abundance of tousled blond curls.
Lucy stopped short, her mouth open. “Bessie!” she whispered.
Knowing she was being foolish, Lucy began to move after the girl, who weaved easily through the market stalls. Intent on her, Lucy did not see a man pushing a cart of half-rotting vegetables. She tripped, falling against a few women gossiping together. They glared at her. Lucy stumbled about, picking up the packages she had knocked over.
“Watch where you’re going, then!” one of the women called, only slightly mollified.
Lucy peered through the crowd. She did not see the woman. She shook her head, wondering what had possessed her. “I must be mad.”
* * *
That night, Lucy dreamed of Bessie again. As before, Bessie was disfigured and still, lying on the cold ground. Her golden curls were a dirty mop around her head. She was wearing her green dress. In the dream, Lucy felt herself move closer and closer to the body that looked frozen to the earth. Lucy sniffed. The cloying scent of lavender assaulted her nose.
Against her will, she moved closer and closer to Bessie’s still form. She gawked at Bessie’s face, pale and lovely, her rosebud lips tinged in blue. She looked like one of the tiny alabaster statues that the mistress had once kept on her dresser.
Then her eyes opened and stared straight into Lucy’s own.
She stretched a gaunt arm toward Lucy, the tattered remains of her precious green dress fluttering. Her mouth began to