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 lot to be done. Yes, I suppose we’d better take a look, but you see...’ Spreading her hands, she sighed and shook her head. Her hair was dressed loosely in a thick plait with wisps floating over her neck as if she cared nothing for how she looked in his company. She had not expected him to be here. As for the next day, and the one after that, she was sure he would make out a good case why she needed him around. ‘You see, I don’t want people, anyone, looking through my uncle’s things. It’s too soon. They’re too precious. Sacred, almost. Do you understand what I mean?’
‘Of course I understand. But think. Dr Ben would not have wanted to make it easy for other landowners to take advantage of you, like Pearce, for instance. He left his estate to you, presumably, so that you could support yourself and not be reliant on a husband. That means you must know all about it. Nor need you do it alone. If the villagers think I’m a lawyer as well as a merchant, well then, let them. Many households have their own lawyer.’
‘Does yours, signor? In Italy?’
‘Indeed it does. A company lawyer for my father’s glassworks on Murano.’
‘And what about your work? Do you not have business in Padua to attend to?’
‘You asked me that before and I told you. I have managers, couriers and captains. They are in constant contact with me.’
It was dark by this time and, looking out of the window before answering him, she saw only their reflections in the glass, the cluster of candles casting a brilliant glow between them. She saw how he watched her and once again knew that this was not only about assisting her on the estate, but something else that required him to stay at Sandrock until his mission was completed. She wished she knew what it was. His eyes were dark, admiring and perceptive, and she knew that he found her attractive. She had learned to detect that look in men, though it made no difference to her unreceptiveness. Never again would she allow herself to fall in love. Never again would she be so generous, or so foolish. Perhaps she would allow him to stay for another day or two—after all, her heart was still hard and cold, and not for sharing.
‘Then I shall let you know tomorrow, signor. That will give me time to sleep on it. Now, will you try one of these desserts? Last year’s plums, I believe.’
* * *
The rooms allocated to Santo, opposite Aphra’s, were comfortable enough to encourage any visiting abbot to overstay his welcome, which he also had in mind to do. Reasonably sure of the lady’s decision and of his own ability to make himself indispensable, he had his two men, Enrico and Dante, arrange his belongings around the room while he stood to one side of the window to watch the lights being extinguished in the rooms across the garden. His brother had known this place well. His foolish brother. Now, however, it was becoming easier for Santo to understand what had possessed him to behave so badly, to give his heart when he had already pledged it. Their father had been adamant and Leon ought to have known better than to expect any flexibility. Certainly marriage to the niece of the famous Dr Spenney would have boosted his career, but not at any price.
Her anger was understandable, he thought, watching the two men place things exactly as he liked them. He supposed he would feel the same way about having a man’s company imposed upon him when all he’d wanted was to be alone. But that was not all, was it? His presence reminded her of Leon, the terrible bitterness of rejection and the foolishness she now felt after love had blinded her to common sense. No woman would be unaffected by that blow to her pride and to have him there, even as an aide, would keep those wounds open longer than need be.
The thought of finding an acceptable way to comfort her was not new to him. It had kept him awake for hours last night. But she had given him not the slightest indication that she might accept any comfort he could offer. Prickly, resentful and defensive, and certainly under no obligation to charm him, not even for the sake of courtesy. He would have to tread very carefully if he wished to stay long enough to find what he was looking for, for if he asked her outright, she would most certainly refuse to help. So would he, in the same circumstances.
* * *
It began to look as if Aphra’s faith in Master Fletcher, her steward, had paid off when, early next morning, she passed his cottage on her way to the kitchen gardens and heard him whistling. He came to the door as she drew near, presenting his new morning face, shaved and bright-eyed, his hair washed and combed. ‘Morning to you, mistress,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’m about to take a look at the gardens over there. I’ve got three men and two lads on my payroll, but now there seems to be eight of them. We’ll be having half the lads in the village there, if we don’t watch out.’
‘Before you send them off, Master Fletcher, find out exactly who they’re related to, then see if the head gardener actually needs the extra help. It may be that he needs them, with things starting to grow.’
‘Right, mistress, I’ll do as you say. Then I’ll go and—’
‘Ah! There you are!’ Santo’s deep voice reached them from across the courtyard just as the steward turned to walk away. ‘Don’t go, Fletcher. You’re the one who’ll know exactly where the estate boundaries are. Yes? Good morning to you, mistress. Would you give me leave to take Master Fletcher and the bailiff off to ride round the Sandrock lands this morning? It’s a matter of some urgency, you’ll agree, if we’re to understand exactly what belongs to you.’
‘Well,