“Well, then,” Mrs. Townsend finally agreed. “Come this way, Your Grace.”
Cassie glanced back at her husband with an encouraging expression. “We’ll return shortly.”
As they passed through the kitchen to the rear door, the Townsend’s maid-of-all-work stopped what she was doing and curtsied deeply. Cassie wished they hadn’t encountered any staff. Her intent was not to win notice, but to establish a mutual regard with Mrs. Townsend.
So, she listened attentively as they wandered through the tidy plots, inserting a question or two when they came upon a bed with a plant she did not immediately recognize.
While Cassie had more knowledge of the topic than some, Mrs. Townsend was, indeed, quite the accomplished herbalist. A Townsend treatise would be much more useful than Harbury’s father’s pedantic description of ornamental grasses.
“If I were to put together a journal of sorts, would you be interested in contributing a description of your methods?”
Mrs. Townsend blushed, stammered and demurred.
“You have valuable knowledge to share,” Cassie insisted.
“I will consider a contribution to the scheme if my husband agrees,” Mrs. Townsend replied carefully, referring to the same husband whose raised voice interrupted their conversation at just that moment.
Both ladies pretended not to hear. Instead, they examined plant leaves until Mr. Townsend again fell silent. Cassie strained to hear her husband’s response, but his conversational tone was so low and quiet, she couldn’t make out any words.
Well done.
She was proud of Harbury’s calm appeal to reason. Gentle ponies weren’t the only thing he didn’t feel the need to dominate. Unlike Mr. Townsend’s apparent need to dictate his wife’s actions.
“Surely,” she said, looping her arm through Mrs. Townsend’s, “your husband could have no objection.”
Mrs. Townsend chuckled. “You haven’t been married long, have you, Your Grace?” Her face softened with a smile. “My husband is no tyrant, mind you. He’s happy enough for the gifts we receive in exchange for my tinctures. But neither would he relish the idea of his wife’s name on a journal in the big house.”
“I’m sure your husband would have unique knowledge to share as well. For instance, we could ask him to contribute favored methods of, say, animal husbandry.”
“Showing us favor might cause an uproar among the other tenants.”
“I see,” Cassie murmured.
“And here we are.” Mrs. Townsend came to a stop in front of the largest bed in the garden and beamed proudly. “My fenugreek.”
The spindly plants were full of long, thin, pea-like pods. Though the plants looked healthy, many pods were already browning. Mrs. Townsend pinched one off and then carefully peeled back the stem. Small yellow seeds fell into her palm.
“The seeds,” Mrs. Townsend explained, “not the leaves, are usedto make the tincture. The pods must be carefully collected, the seeds removed just so, then left to thoroughly dry. Then, the seeds are lightly crushed with a mortar before being added to a strong spirit.”
“Sounds like a good deal of work.”
“Oh, it is. The seeds ripen during the summer months, and, as you can see, are near ready to be harvested.”
Cassie cast a critical gaze over the bed. She couldn’t imagine the length of time required to remove every pod without damaging the plant.
“I hired day help last season,” Mrs. Townsend said. “This year…” her voice trailed. “Let’s just say I hope I won’t have to let any go to waste. The priority is, of course, the grain.”
Cassie glanced up in surprise. So, despite the appearance of prosperity at the Townsend Farm, things were tighter this year than they had been the last.
“Perhaps I could be of service?”
“You?” Mrs. Townsend exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes. Unusual, I know. But my interest is a longstanding one. My mother was known for her salves. And, as my husband said, your tincture is considered the very best. I’d be very interested to see the process, and if I am to observe, I absolutely must insist on helping. I hate to be in the way.”
“You’re welcome, of course. Fair warning, the seeds won’t be properly dried for a few days, longer, perhaps, this year.”
“I will come twice, then,” Cassie replied.
