by C. J. Archer
"There's only one key. If she has it, you can't open the gate or the door." His gaze turned warm. "The cottage is for your use, Josie."
I touched the key hanging around my neck, nestled against my skin. "Balthazar won't like this."
"Balthazar owes you."
"Why?"
His gaze shifted to the activity at my house, where Mistress Ashmole snapped at one of the movers. "Be careful," he said to me. "The Deerhorns won't like that you're out of prison already."
"What more can they do to me? They've taken my home, rendered me destitute, and restricted my ability to sell medicines." All those tonics, salves and ointments in the larder, gone. They were Mistress Ashmole's to sell now. She'd got her full bottle of Mother’s Milk after all, and paid a mere quarter of its worth. A fire of anger lit inside me, replacing the hollowness.
"Before you go, will you wait while I fetch something? Something I suspect wasn't included in my personal belongings."
He nodded and informed the Ashmoles that I had an item to collect. Mistress Ashmole crossed her arms but didn't bar my entry. If she knew I was fetching the recipe book for medicines, she probably would have tried.
I found the book in the larder and tucked it under my arm, then rejoined Dane outside. I knew all the recipes inside by heart, but I wouldn't let Mistress Ashmole have it. "My private journal," I told her.
She didn't look like she believed me, but with Dane watching on, she didn't dare challenge me.
Dora and Remy returned too, their meager belongings fitting into one pack. Dane attached it to his saddle and they set off, Remy chatting excitedly about seeing the palace. Just before they left the street, Dane turned around. He lifted a hand in a wave before settling it on his thigh.
Meg sighed. "How romantic."
"It was just a wave, Meg."
"I mean giving Dora and Remy a home. He did that for you, Josie."
One of the movers dropped the end of a large dresser he was carrying and Mistress Ashmole informed him she would pay him less because of it. They would have an abundance of furniture now, between theirs and mine. They could profit from selling pieces off.
"I hope the council is charging them a fortune in rent," Meg said as we walked to her house together.
"I'm not sure it will stay in council hands for long. I suspect they'll sell it to the Deerhorns to add to their tally of properties in the village."
"Speaking of the Deerhorns, they must be held accountable for what they did to you."
"How? We can't even prove they're behind it, let alone do anything about it if they are."
I paused on the threshold and looked across the road to the house I'd been born and raised in. The house where my parents had died, where I'd learned to be as good a doctor as my father, and where Dane and I shared our first kiss. So many memories had been created there, and now two heartless wretches had taken it over.
But those memories weren't in the house, they were within me. And I would hold them close.
With only my midwifery duties to occupy me now, I visited my two patients early the following morning to reassure them nothing would change except where to find me. I then went into the village square and spoke to as many people as I could at the market, informing them I was living with the Divers.
"I'm still the midwife," I told the women.
"And your medicines?" more than one asked. "Will you still sell them?"
"Not at the moment."
I couldn't take over Mistress Diver's kitchen and larder for the purpose. She'd done so much for me already and continued to reassure me that I could stay with them until I married. I wasn't quite sure whom she expected me to marry, but I didn't ask.
I made sure I was seen by as many as possible at the market before heading to the dock. I answered more questions there from concerned villagers about my arrest. All commented on the injustice and the steepness of the fine. If nothing else, the morning proved to me that I had many friends and well-wishers in the village. It was heartening.
That wasn't my only reason for visiting the dock, however. I stopped some of the sailors and asked them if they'd been to Freedland in recent weeks but none had.
I started heading back to the village square only to be hailed by Ivor Morgrain. I groaned and considered not stopping, but I hesitated too long. He dumped the sack he was carrying and cut off my path.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Nothing I feel like discussing with you, Ivor."
"I hear you've been asking around about Freedland. Why?"
"None of your business."
"You should be careful. Talking about Freedland might make people think you're interested in revolution."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Step aside, please. I'd like to go."
"Go where? I hear you ain't got a home no more."
"My home is with the Divers now." I didn't know why I was explaining anything to him. I owed him nothing. "Good day, Ivor."
He caught my hand and stroked his thumb along mine. "Josie," he murmured, stepping closer. "You've lost your house, and you have no folk."
"I have friends."
"It ain't the same."
I withdrew my hand "What do you want, Ivor?"
He rubbed his shirt front over his heart. He reminded me of the youth he'd been before he'd fallen in with Ned Perkin and his friends. Those innocent days seemed so distant now. "I know I ain't the man you want, but I can be better. With you beside me, I know I can be better. You can guide me, help me become the sort of man you like."
This couldn't be happening. Not now, when my emotions were raw and my world was in turmoil. "Don't, Ivor. We've been through this."
"Things are different. I've got money saved. I can't buy a house, but I can rent one. For you and me, Josie. A nice home here in the village for you to call your own again. You can make it look real nice, just the way you want. Let me help you."
"In exchange for marrying you?"
He swallowed heavily. "Marry me, and I'll give you a house and let you continue with your apothecary and midwife work. You'll be happy again, and as my wife, you won't have to worry no more about going to prison. I'll protect you."
"Ivor…" I sighed. "I'm not going to marry you."
He pressed his lips together. "You don't have to answer now. Think about it. You have to get married, Josie, and I'm offering you a good life. A safe life." He pecked my forehead. I was too stunned to pull away in time. "I'll call on you."
"My answer will be the same," I said. "I won't marry you. You can't make me happy, and I can't make you happy."
"That ain't true."
There was no arguing with him. He saw himself as my rescuer, and nothing I could say would convince him otherwise. Not yet. In time, it would sink in. I just had to avoid further encounters with him until then.
News of a brawl in The Row spread quickly the following morning. The two factions were at war again, and it had taken more palace guards than last time to stop them. It was Lyle who alerted us to the trouble. He'd seen four guards leave my old house sporting bandages and had made inquiries.
"One of them asked after you," he said to his sister.
"Me?" Meg sucked on the inside of her cheek and frowned. "Oh no."
We raced outside but the guards had left.
"Was he a square-set fellow?" I asked Lyle.
He nodded.
"I told you Max liked you," I whispered to Meg.
"There's more," Lyle said. "The guard told me one of the sheriff's men, Uther Lessing, was stabbed. He lost a lot of blood and Doctor Ashmole couldn't save him. He died in there early this morning." He nodded at my old house.
"How awful," Meg murmured.
When would it end? How many more lives would be lost before the two factions stopped their senseless war?
We decided to head to the market even though we had no intention of purchasing anything. Gossip was free in Mull and plentiful today.
The strange looks began immediately. Sometime
s they were furtive, embarrassed almost, but others scowled at me.
"Don't listen to them," said Sara Cotter, her baby wrapped in a sling tucked against her chest. "They're just malicious tattlers with nothing better to do.”
She went to walk off, but Meg called her back. "What's everyone saying? Why are they looking at Josie like that?"
Sara frowned. "You don't know?"
"Would we be asking if we did?"
Sara glanced around. Two women I knew, a mother and her adult daughter, pretended not to see me, but I noticed their sly looks, their mutterings to one another out of the corners of their mouths. This was different to yesterday's reaction after my release from prison. Something had happened.
"They say the trouble in The Row is your fault, Josie," Sara said.
"Me?" I cried.
"They say Uther Lessing would still be alive if you hadn't interfered."
"Why do they say that?"
"Because you patched up the thugs in there so they could fight again."
"I did not! I attended a woman, not men. No one else, just her."
"Honestly!" Meg said, hands on hips. "Everyone believes whatever absurd stories are passed around without checking the facts first. For Hailia's sake! How can they believe such nonsense when they've known Josie her whole life?"
"That's the problem," Sara said. "We know Josie would help anyone, no matter who they were, no matter what their circumstances. Some don't think she ought to help the whore masters and gang members. Some say she should just let them die."
It was a heartless view, but it was impossible to argue against it after the death of one of Mull's own. I'd grown up with Uther Lessing's daughters. He'd been a good man. "Who is spreading these rumors?" I asked.
"Everyone. I don't believe them." Sara raised her chin and her voice. "If you tell me you didn't help the gangs then I believe you, Josie."
"Thank you," I said, pressing my fingers to my aching forehead. "I would appreciate it if you continued to tell those who think otherwise."
She gave me a pitying smile and went on her way.
Meg sidled closer to me and lowered her voice. "We should go. I don't like the way some are looking at you."
We edged away from the market, but we didn't get far before Arrabette Fydler intercepted us. "You should be ashamed of yourself," she said, loudly enough for those nearby to hear. "If it weren't for your meddling, Josie Cully, Uther would still be alive."
"His death has nothing to do with me," I said. "You're believing stories that aren't true."
Arrabette clicked her tongue. "Lower your voice. You're making a scene."
"I have a right to defend myself," I said, not lowering my voice one bit. "Listen. All of you!" I scanned the faces, gratified that I had the attention of most. "I stitched up the wound of a woman, not a man. She was destitute, dressed in rags, and living in a filthy room no bigger than a larder. If I didn't suture her wound, she would have died, leaving her simpleton sister to fend for herself. I am not ashamed that I helped her when the village doctor would not, and I am certainly not responsible for last night's riot or Uther's death."
It was a relief to see some nods of agreement and to receive smiles of encouragement. But not everyone nodded or smiled. Some walked past, their faces averted.
Arrabette sniffed. "You've changed since you've been going to the palace, Josie. You used to be full of youthful innocence and sweetness. Now you're…different."
"I grew up," I said.
"She lost her father!" Meg spat. "She's had to fend for herself since his death."
"And whose fault is that? You should have been married, Josie. None of this would have happened if you had a husband to advise you."
I couldn't stand listening to any more of her drivel. I marched off, Meg by my side, and tried to look as composed as possible. But inside, my blood boiled and my heart raged.
Chapter 14
A message from Dane was a welcome distraction from my aggravating morning. It was just a single line, asking me to meet him late in the afternoon at Half Moon Cove.
I told Meg where I was going but asked her not to inform her mother. Mistress Diver wouldn't approve, and I'd become used to doing as I pleased without censure.
I passed some older children with damp hair on my way to the cove. They must have gone for a swim in the shallows. I also passed a man bent under the weight of a large pack he carried on his back. He looked like he'd been walking all day and was grateful when I informed him the village wasn't far. I hoped Mull didn't disappoint, but I suspected he'd not find it the sanctuary he was expecting.
Dane's horse wasn't at the top of the cliff above the cove so I was surprised to see him on the beach. He couldn't have walked with his injury. Indeed, he shouldn't have even descended the steep steps.
"How did you get here?" I asked, striding up to him. He stood in the shallows, his pants legs rolled up to his knees, the water lapping at his bare ankles. His doublet, boots and the bandage were nowhere in sight. He'd stroked his wet hair back from his face, and his shirt clung to his frame in a way that made me hot all over.
"Good afternoon to you too," he said.
"If I find out you've walked all the way from the village, I'll unstitch every one of your sutures myself. You don't deserve medical attention if you're going to be so careless after all the work I put in."
He pressed his lips together, suppressing a smile. A smile! The man was infuriating. I was in no mood for this today. "Before you yell at me again," he said, "I'd like to point out that I didn't walk here. I swam."
My mouth dropped open. I looked out to sea as the waves rolled through the cove's narrow mouth to lap at his ankles, completely covering his wounds. "From where?"
"From the prison. It's only one beach over. The cliffs surrounding it aren't as high as these. I left Lightning there and swam around the heads."
"You could have been smashed against the rocks!"
"It's calm today."
"It's a foolish thing to do. Don't do it again."
"Midwife's orders?"
"Don't test me, Dane. I've had a trying day."
His face turned grim. "I heard. But it sounds like your friends believed your explanation."
"Not everyone did."
"They don't matter." He lifted a hand, hesitated, and rubbed my shoulder. "They don't matter, Josie."
I blew out a breath and relaxed into the soothing touch. Just as I was beginning to enjoy it, however, he withdrew. He looked out to sea, his gaze distant, as if he were searching for his past in the horizon. Unless he was from Zemaya, he wouldn't find it in that direction.
It was difficult for me to see that look in his eyes. He was a strong, proud man, yet in unguarded moments like this, he was immeasurably sad. I couldn't begin to fathom what it must be like for him.
I lowered my gaze, but that didn't help me set aside my feelings for him. The damp shirt only made the ridges of muscle, flat stomach, and broad shoulders more obvious and more enticing. My throat felt dry, and swallowing didn't help. As a medically minded woman, I shouldn't be distracted by the human body, but I suddenly found him the most fascinating subject in my lifelong studies.
"It stings," he said.
"Pardon?" I shook my head and focused on his eyes again, now watching me. Their color matched the deeper waters, and were no less distracting than the rest of him.
He lifted his injured leg out of the water. The stitches looked as they should, and the skin surrounding them wasn't red or inflamed. "It stings but Quentin told me the salt water would be good for it."
"Quentin said that?"
"He read it in your book." He nodded at my feet. "Your dress is wet."
I stepped back onto the beach and shook the droplets off my dress. "See what you did?" I teased. "You distracted me."
"Sorry." He joined me on the sand. "I have no other clothes to put over my shirt. I left my doublet with the jailor for safekeeping."
I laughed. "I meant news of your swim aroun
d the heads distracted me. Don't worry about your lack of clothes. I'll try not to swoon."
"You? Swoon? You're the most pragmatic and resilient woman I know." He indicated I should sit on a rock with as much formality as if he were offering me a seat at his dining table.
"I'm not always resilient," I said, looking at the wounds on his lower leg. "If I were, this morning's rumor mongering wouldn't have bothered me."
"How are you?" he asked.
"Fine."
He touched my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "How are you really?"
His gentle voice, insistent touch and earnest eyes all conspired to undo me. My lower lip wobbled and a tear slipped down my cheek.
He let my chin go and wiped the tear away with his thumb. He didn't speak, and that made my heart ache even more. I wanted him to fill the silence, to say something silly to break the tension, to tease me or scold me or something.
This tender gravity shredded me. Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. He joined me on my rock and scooped me into his arms, tucking my head beneath his chin. His strength and the steady throb of his pulse surrounded me, making my problems seems smaller. I felt like I could overcome any obstacle with him by my side.
My tears dried, but I did not move away. Why would I want to? The sun warmed my back, and Dane warmed everything else. I could stay with him forever like that, or leave Mull altogether if he promised to hold me every day of our lives.
I pushed aside the voice of reason telling me it couldn't happen. I didn't want to hear reason, right now. I just wanted this moment to last a little longer.
But he withdrew all too soon, putting inches of distance between us. He settled his elbows on his knees and stared down at the sand at his feet. His hair had dried at the ends and hung over his forehead, obscuring his eyes. His whole body moved with his deep breath.
"I made your shirt damper," I said pathetically. "Sorry."
He straightened and swept the hair off his face. "You don't have to pretend to be brave for me, Josie."
My lip wobbled again, but I managed to keep my emotions in check. I blinked up at the sky to ensure his beautiful, caring eyes didn't undo me again. "It's been an overwhelming few days," I said. "But this has helped."
