Still, I was going home. I was glad enough to see Hawkswood again. Harry came running to greet me: Hawthorn prepared an elaborate supper in welcome, Adam Wilder was eager to give an account of events in the household while I was away.
And the morning after we reached home, I awoke with a migraine.
‘I knew it,’ said Gladys, stirring a freshly made potion and handing it to me. ‘I knew you were going to find trouble. You always do. I told you so.’
‘Don’t croak, Gladys. What’s in this drink you’re giving me? It tastes even worse than usual. Have you thought of trying lemons and a little salt?’
‘What’s lemons?’ said Gladys. ‘Never heard of them!’
Her potion worked, anyway. I was recovered by midday, though I still wanted to rest. Dale and Brockley came to see me, and brought the tabby kitten with them.
‘Hawthorn made her a bed in the kitchen but the poor little thing was crying all night,’ Dale said. ‘Missing her mother, I expect. Here.’
She put the kitten down beside me. It at once curled into the crook of my right arm, glad, it seemed, to be close to something warm and living and protective.
I had not come home with Master Spelton’s betrothal ring on my finger. But I had not come empty handed. Soon, when the kitten had grown a little, we would have a new kitchen cat to keep the mice in order. I supposed it had its funny side. I hadn’t got Christopher Spelton; instead, I had a little tabby kitten with a white front and four white paws. She was sleeping now, trustfully settled at my side.
Well, widowed ladies past their youth often found solace in the company of pets. The kitten, I thought wryly, was my consolation prize.
The Heretic’s Creed Page 24