Riverbreeze: Part 2 (14 page)

Elizabeth frowned at Abigail’s condemnatory tone. “Robert isn’t brutal.” She said, gently pulling away. They had stopped in front of the table and Elizabeth could now see that there were dried herbs in one of the smaller bowls. Nothing looked familiar to her.

Abigail waved her off. “Nevertheless, I was just about to make a cordial tonic and a poultice for myself. Of course, you wouldn’t want to drink the tonic, I do not believe….” She raised her eyebrows at Elizabeth in question.

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, completely confused. “I know not what you mean.” She said.

“Oh my dear, you are an innocent, aren’t you?” Abigail put her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders again and gave her a quick hug, but Elizabeth remained stiff and distant. “The tonic is to…” Abigail hesitated, sweeping her hand in front of her stomach. “To cleanse the womb, we shall say. As much as I mourn the loss of my first child and often dream of having another, I should not want to bear a bastard.”

“Oh!” Elizabeth gasped in a whisper, her eyes wide. Now she understood and was both shocked and interested. Her governess had never mentioned anything like this, a tonic to eliminate the possibility of having a child.

Abigail continued, her voice grave. “Smell and listen, if you wish to learn.” She said, picking up the bowl of dried herbs and holding it in front of Elizabeth’s nose.

Elizabeth took a good, deep breath, her curiosity piqued. “Ooo! Mint!” She said.

“Yes.” Abigail said with a note of surprise in her voice. “Good. There is mint and more importantly, there is birthwort, willow bark and a pinch of pennyroyal. I shall drink a cup of the tonic every morning until my menses start.”

“And this works every time?” Elizabeth asked, totally fascinated. She couldn’t wait to share this information with Evelyn.

“Not every time, but then there are stronger tonics if there is the need.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth said thoughtfully, her brow pinched. What did that mean exactly? She was trying to figure that out when Abigail’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“I’ll also teach you those receipts someday, but Elizabeth, this knowledge is only for us and for your sister, if you like.”

Good, Elizabeth thought, because she was going to tell Evelyn no matter what.

Abigail continued, “You must never speak of it to anyone else outside of this house. Do you understand?”

Elizabeth nodded slowly. “I think so. But why must we not tell anyone else?”

“Because the Church frowns upon tonics like this, except in the instance of true illness and then they would rather you pray to God for a cure. Men of the Church are always quick to make women suffer in the name of God.”

Elizabeth easily accepted Abigail’s words. They were quite reminiscent of words that her governess had spoken all through her life. From the time she was small, Elizabeth, along with her twin, had been warned never to speak of their ‘gift’. And even though their governess had told them that this ability was a gift from God, they were warned that the men of the Church would not see it that way. The girls would be accused of being witches and they would be tortured and hanged or drowned. Apparently, knowledge of this tonic was equally as dangerous. “I promise I shan’t tell anyone except Evelyn.” Elizabeth said, feeling a new kinship with Abigail.

“Thank you, Elizabeth. I know you’ll keep our secret. Of course there may be a time when a woman in need will come here for the tonic and I will give it to her, but only if she makes the same promise that you just did. Word must never get out that we know what to do.”

“I understand.” Elizabeth whispered gravely, a chill running down her spine. Elizabeth knew she would keep the secret; she was good at keeping secrets, she and her sister were. They had kept secrets all their lives.

“Good.” Abigail smiled warmly at Elizabeth. “Now, for my poultice.” She said, reaching for the mortar and pestle. “I can make one for you and your sister, if you like.”

A poultice
? Elizabeth thought.
A poultice for there? I would much rather take a bath
! “Thank you, Abigail. That is very kind of you.” She stated, eyeing the hairy green plant with distaste. “But I do not think I will need a poultice.”

“’Tis very soothing to inflamed and torn flesh.” Abigail intoned. “And your virgin flesh I’m sure is quite inflamed.” She said, leaning close to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth gasped, blushing furiously, all at once very uncomfortable. Her new feelings of kinship suddenly vanished. She didn’t like Abigail talking about her intimate flesh, and she certainly didn’t want to think about Abigail’s torn and inflamed parts. She drew herself up and faced Abby eye to eye. “And I’m sure that is none of your business, madame.” She said.

Abigail let out a gay laugh, not offended at all. “Oh dearie, I like your spirit.” She suddenly swept past Elizabeth, running her hand down Elizabeth’s arm, moving to the fireplace again. She started adding more wood to the fire, first kindling, then larger logs until the fire was blazing.

Elizabeth rubbed her arm where Abigail had touched her, as if she could erase the feel of her hand. She stared at the crackling fire, trying to understand this enigmatic woman.

“Did you have a mother growing up, Elizabeth?” Abigail asked out of the blue. She stayed by the fireplace, pulling the crane with the brass kettle hanging from it over the fire.

Elizabeth looked up, startled. Without thinking she answered, “Our mother died when we were three years old.”

“I am sorry to hear that.” Abigail picked up a brass dipper and started filling the kettle with water from the water barrel. “Did you not have any other women in your life?”

For some reason that question annoyed Elizabeth. “We had a governess and she was like a mother to us.” She said defensively, but then her voice softened. “Unfortunately, she died on the ship coming over here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that also. Did she ever speak to you about the evils of men?”

Elizabeth frowned, watching Abigail continue to fill the big kettle.
What was she talking
about
? “She told us that men have their needs if that is what you mean by evils of men.”

“Needs!” Abigail scoffed, throwing the dipper down. It clanged and bounced on the wooden floor, causing Elizabeth to nearly jump out of her skin. “They’re boars, all of them rutting boars!”

Elizabeth stood there with her mouth hanging open. Abigail continued, looking directly at her. “But
you
are very lucky, Elizabeth, because I believe you when you say that Robert isn’t brutal. Some men are kind…” She seemed to calm down and she gazed out the window for a moment as if remembering something. “My late husband was kind; he understood.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Understood what?”

Abigail shook her head. “Did your governess ever tell you about the joys of female companionship?”

Elizabeth’s face twisted in confusion. “I do not understand. Our governess never needed to tell us. Evelyn and I have always known the joy of each other’s company.” She said innocently.

Abigail let out a small cry, covered her mouth with her hands and turned quickly away. Elizabeth watched her, utterly bewildered. The woman appeared to be very upset or weeping even. Elizabeth wondered if she should leave her be or if she should offer some comfort.
But what do you say to someone who is acting so strangely?

Finally, Elizabeth did go up to Abby and tentatively touched her shoulder. “Abigail?” She said. “Have I said something to upset you?”

The woman took a deep breath. Slowly she turned back around and faced Elizabeth. “No.” She said, wiping her hands on her apron. She fussed needlessly with her clothing and hair, pushing strands back into her coif that didn’t need pushing and straightening her bodice which didn’t need straightening. She forced a smile. “No.” She repeated, cupping Elizabeth’s face for a brief moment. “You have not upset me. I was being…” She hesitated, gazing at Elizabeth’s face as if she would weep, then finished by saying, “…foolish. Come.” She put her arm around Elizabeth again, but only to turn her so that they were facing the table. “I want to show you how to make this poultice. And once the water is boiling, I shall make my tonic.”

“All right.” Elizabeth agreed dumbly. She had no idea what had just happened. She had been here in this room, had heard every word that Abigail had said, had answered all of Abigail’s questions, but she felt like she had missed something. And now Abigail had assumed this formal persona.

“This is a comfrey plant.” Abigail said, picking up the wilting plant by the root, being very careful not to allow the leaves to touch her skin. “You recognize it by its long broad leaves—which you should never touch if at all possible—its stout, bristly stem and the black, turnip-like roots. Mashed and heated and mixed with flour or cornmeal, ‘tis very soothing for cuts, burns and inflamed skin.”

“I did not know that.” Elizabeth murmured, feigning interest. Truthfully, she had only been listening with half an ear. In her mind she was still going over that conversation she had just had with Abigail. She had looked at the plant though, noting the long bristly leaves and odd roots, but then she would find her attention straying to Abigail’s profile. Our of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth watched Abigail’s mouth moving, saw the slightly turned-up nose, her high clear forehead, her mostly unblemished fair skin with only a few brown spots close to her temple and her thick brown eyelashes. She is pretty enough, Elizabeth thought.
Why hadn’t she gotten married again after her husband had died
? Elizabeth was more puzzled than ever.

Abigail took the cloth and used it to cover her hand while she stuffed the whole plant into the mortar. She started mashing it with the pestle, saying, “Normally you would put the poultice directly on the wound or the skin and then cover it with a cloth, but in my case I’ll be placing the mash between two pieces of linen.” Abigail continued matter-of-factly. Her voice softened. “My good friend, Beatrice Warren, God rest her soul, taught me all I know about herbs. She taught Robert a few things too, as a matter of fact…” She added, glancing up at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had to quickly rearrange her face from puzzlement to rapt attention. “Indeed.” She said, her voice a little too high.

Abigail’s eyebrows went up, but she let it go. She resumed her mashing. “Yes. She also saved Robert’s life. Did you know that?”

Elizabeth did know that but before she could answer, they heard the doorknob on the side door being turned. Abigail reacted instantly, letting out a frightened gasp and whirling around to face whatever was coming. Her hands came up to her chest also and Elizabeth noticed that she was clutching them so tightly they were turning all sorts of colors.
The poor woman,
she thought.

The door was pushed open and the two beagles rushed in and went directly to a large bowl of water that had been placed in the corner for them. They started lapping the liquid noisily while Robert, Nathan and Dolnick, who was carrying the pail of goat’s milk, filed into the kitchen. Nathan had his shirt folded up and was cradling something very fragile in the makeshift pouch. “Morning, Mistress.” The two servants immediately said, nodding respectfully at Elizabeth and then at Abigail.

“Good morning.” Elizabeth responded in kind, noticing that both men were dressed plainly as they had been yesterday and each of them had slicked back their hair with water. Their faces were freshly scrubbed, but not freshly shaved.

Abigail’s murmured greeting was barely audible. She was too busy wrapping the bowl of herbs in the linen cloth. “I’m going back to my bed, Elizabeth.” She said quickly in a low voice. “Please bring me a cup of water when it has boiled, will you?”

“I will.” Elizabeth promised automatically, too stunned to argue; and Abigail rushed out without a look back, the bowl of herbs clutched against her stomach.

“What’s wrong with Abby?” Robert frowned, watching her leave. “Oh, do put the pail right here, Nick.” Robert said, remembering the servants. He pointed to a space beside the fireplace. “And Nate…” Robert spied a bowl on the table. “Put the eggs in that bowl, then close the door.”

The men were quick to obey, which pleased Elizabeth. She had noted that Robert had addressed the servants using their nicknames and she thought that inappropriate. She would have to talk to Robert about that but not in front of the servants.

Nathan sidled past Robert to approach the table and then nodded deferentially to Elizabeth as she moved aside. She watched him for a moment while he carefully started to unload his shirt of perhaps a dozen eggs. She tried to remember if she had seen chickens anywhere when Robert surprised her with a warm, intimate kiss on her lips.

“What’s wrong with Abby?” He asked again when they parted.

“Oh.” Elizabeth stammered a little, still recovering from that kiss. She could smell the fresh air on him and the underlying aroma of his buckskins which she now associated with him. It appeared that he had also washed up, probably at the well; there were a few droplets of water on his eyelashes and at the ends of his hair dripping onto his shoulders. The sight—and now the feel—of him never failed to entrance her.

“Oh, she wasn’t feeling well.” Elizabeth said vaguely, waving her hand as if it wasn’t important. She remembered her promise to Abigail and thought it a good idea to distract Robert from the subject of her. “How were the dogs? Were they good for you?” She glanced over to the corner of the room where the dogs were now sprawled on the floor.