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“It’s what I did in New England, sir,” Ned confirmed. “I would go out all spring and summer into the forests, and send home what I found. Sometimes I dried it, sometimes I sent seeds or roots. I packed them in sand in barrels to keep them dry. I could do the same at Barbados.”
“Yes, yes. Ever find any treasure? Ever any word of any treasure?”
“No, sir, I’ve never found treasure.” Ned gritted his teeth on his distaste. “We don’t all have your skill, sir.”
Christopher Monck beamed and took a glass of brandy by way of celebration of his skill at treasure hunting. “Here,” he said, suddenly troubled, blinking at Ned. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere? What’s your name?”
“Edward Stoney, sir.” Ned gambled on a drunkard’s unreliable memory. “I was in your troop when you marched out against Monmouth.”
“Ha! He was sorry he came against me!” Monck had forgotten that he played no part in the royalist victory. “But what were you doing in Somerset and so on?”
“I landed in Plymouth from New England and volunteered at once,” Ned said.
“Good man.”
“And so on,” Ned prompted.
“Yes. Yes. Well, we sail from Portsmouth on the tenth?”
“The twelfth, I think, my lord.”
“Exactly so. Make sure you have the right day. I brook no delay! On a frigate and so on.”
“Yes, sir,” Ned said politely.
WHITE HART INN, LONDON, AUTUMN 1687
Ned, loading bags on the roof of the passenger coach drawn up in the courtyard of the White Hart Inn, looked down to see Alys with her two granddaughters, Gabrielle and Mia, beside her. She was holding a covered basket. He climbed down. “It’s good of you to come to see me off,” he said.
“Ma would never’ve let you go without this.” Alys pressed the basket into his hands. He peeped under the linen cover and saw a box of fever tea, comfrey salve for his old wound, tisanes against quatrain fever, and sachets of herbs. There were seeds for planting in labeled purses. Some of the labels were written in Alinor’s careful hand.
“Those were collected by Bisnonna herself,” Gabrielle told him. “And I made the fever tea according to her receipt, just as she would have made it.”
“You have her receipt book?” Ned asked.
“She gave it to me,” Gabrielle said. “Is that all right, Uncle Ned?”
He nodded. “I’m glad we have another healer in the family. You use it, Gabrielle.” He turned to Alys. “I’m sorry to be leaving you so soon after the loss of her, Niece.”
“Aye, I miss her, but I don’t grieve. Once she was back on the tidelands she was happy. And she said good-bye to the love of her life.”
“I’ve got the love of my life to find again,” he said, smiling at the two girls. “I owe someone my life. I’ll settle my debt to her before I come home again.”
“God bless and keep you,” Alys said. Ned eased himself down from the coach step and took her in his arms, widening his embrace to include the girls.
“And give my love to Johnnie,” Alys reminded him. “There’s goods loaded for him on the next ship to Barbados and a letter for him in the basket. Tell him that we miss him and we’re looking for him.”
“I will.” Ned climbed the steps to the coach. He had an inside seat by the window.
“Look after yourself!” Alys said. “Come home safe!”
He smiled and waved as the other passengers got in. Alys and her two granddaughters stood, arms around one another, as the last passenger climbed inside. The door was slammed shut, the coachman took up the reins, shouted at the horses to be ready, and then the coach rocked and moved off.
BATH, SOMERSET, AUTUMN 1687
The post from London brought a letter for Livia as she sipped tea and ate cakes in the queen’s drawing room at Bath.
Dear Signora Madre,
