The Mistress And The Merchant. Juliet Landon
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* * *
So for the rest of that morning and well into the afternoon, Santo and Father Vickery sat with the steward with the ledgers spread out before them while they ate, drank good ale and tried to rectify the housekeeping mess. After seeing a similar kind of disorder in the steward’s cottage, Aphra got three women from the village to scrub the place out, to wash the stale bedlinen and clothes, and to replace them with some that had been used by Dr Ben’s students. The few items of furniture were polished and supplemented by others, the little cot removed, food placed in the kitchen, oil in the lamps, firewood in the hearth, and a widow found to housekeep and cook for him who needed just this kind of employment to put money into her purse. Aphra’s money.
To his credit, Father Vickery offered to double-check the accounts with Fletcher before submitting them to Aphra each week, which they all understood to be both a help and a safeguard against any back-sliding. Unintentional the deceptions might have been, but Aphra could not afford to turn a blind eye to mismanagement, as Dr Ben had apparently been doing.
* * *
‘I think,’ said Santo, sitting down to supper in Aphra’s comfortable parlour, ‘your uncle was more interested in his medicinal studies than in household management.’
‘And I,’ said Aphra, arranging her skirts as she sat opposite him, ‘failed to deal with that side of things as soon as I came to live here. Have we lost a lot?’
He liked the sound of the ‘we’ in her question. ‘That’s difficult to tell now,’ he replied, ‘but the purchases and sales have not all been recorded properly so it’s quite likely that your uncle has been cheated over the year. That will have to stop. Perhaps it’s a good thing that word is getting round about your lawyer being here to keep an eye on things.’
‘That,’ said Aphra, primly, eyeing the dishes being placed on the table, ‘is something I must discuss with you. As you say, word is getting around, and that’s what I don’t want. That’s why you should go back to Italy, signor.’
‘But now you’ve changed your mind.’
‘I have not changed my mind. I would not want you to return to Reedacre Manor in the dark, but you cannot stay more than one night. You and your men can use the rooms across there.’ She pointed through the window to the stone-built dwelling across on the other side of the square garden. ‘It was once the visiting abbots’ house. Plenty of space on both floors. I’ve given a man the task of looking after your needs. And tomorrow, you must leave Sandrock and return to my parents’ house. Your help today is appreciated, but now I shall manage on my own.’
‘But you may recall,’ Santo said, ‘that Sir George and Lady Betterton have now left Reedacre Manor for London. When we said farewell this morning, they were of the opinion that my help here would be a good thing for you.’
‘They would. It’s a big place.’
‘And you really do not need a man’s help?’ he said, persuasively.
‘Not the help of a man like you.’
‘A man like me?’
‘The brother of the man who deceived me,’ she said. ‘Did you think I’d welcome you with open arms, signor? My memory is not so short as all that.’
‘I believe that’s what the English call “tarring everyone with the same brush”, isn’t it? I am not to be confused with my brother, mistress. He was guilty of a gross misjudgement. I am a merchant and I’ve learnt not to do that. Laws are there to be kept. If I were untrustworthy, no one would do business with me. My family’s good name would suffer, which is why my father insisted on Leon keeping his word.’
‘I’m glad he did so,’ Aphra said, daintily picking up a rabbit’s roasted foreleg and deciding which bit to nibble. ‘I would not want a husband who breaks promises so easily.’ She pushed a dish towards him. ‘This is sage and onion stuffing,’ she said. ‘It goes well with rabbit. I did not mean to tar you with the same brush as your brother, Signor Datini. I am sure you are honourable in all your dealings. But I made a decision to be alone here, after what’s happened, to give me time to reflect and to carry on some of the work my uncle began with his plants. I intend to supply London doctors with the raw material, as he did. They don’t all grow the plants they use in medicines, you know, nor do they buy them from just anyone. Only from growers they can trust.’
‘That’s an excellent line to pursue, mistress. You have the gardens and the men to tend them, and your uncle’s research, too. One cannot allow years to elapse before picking up where he left off. They’re not all perennials, are they?’
Not looking at him, Aphra continued to nibble at the meat. ‘What do you know about perennials?’ she said. ‘Was that a shot in the dark?’
That smile again, diverting her thoughts, fractionally. ‘Another one,’ he said. ‘A shot in the dark. No, I know that perennials seed themselves and multiply each year, and that others are known as biennials, appearing for only two years, and that others must be re-sown every year. Annuals. My brother told me that.’
‘He was Dr Ben’s most talented student.’
‘Was he? I didn’t know that. He didn’t say. But I know he was trying to establish a system for naming plants that everyone would understand. He found all the various names very confusing, to say the least.’
‘It can be dangerous, too. Mistakes have been made because of wrong identification.’
‘Which is why apothecaries and doctors trusted your uncle and a good reason why you should follow in his footsteps, mistress. And if you could manage to keep the apothecary’s foreign imports separate from your household accounts, Fletcher would be able to give you a clearer picture of exactly what materials you’re buying and for how much. You also need records of what herbs you’re exporting, too.’
‘What do you mean?’ Aphra said, pausing in her eating. ‘That the medicinal plants are mixed up with supplies of sugar loaves and spices? And barley?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. I cannot believe that your household needs bulk supplies of alkanet and juniper berries and senna, does it? All that ought to be in a separate book kept only for the apothecary department, or the stillroom, or wherever you prepare it. Some are very expensive items. I import some of them myself.’
Wide-eyed, Aphra studied his face and knew he was not making this up. ‘I didn’t know that. You’re right, Dr Ben was perhaps not as concerned about balancing the books as he was about obtaining the very best ingredients. We have to do something about this, immediately.’
‘Would you allow me to look through Dr Ben’s records to see what he’s been ordering for his work? It could make a significant difference to costs.’
Aphra looked down at her pewter plate, realising that this was the first time she had wanted to eat everything on it. Yet she hesitated, knowing what this would mean. He would need to stay longer.
Santo saw her doubts. ‘We have to find that map, too, you know. You have to know exactly where your estate boundaries are. Did your father not go through that with you?’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Well, he might have done, I don’t remember. Those first few days here were a blur. There’s quite a