by Linda Finlay
He nodded and the look of admiration in his eyes made her heart flip.
‘So our little un’s growing up and thinking of others. Make sure she drinks it and I’ll be over to see her as soon as I can.’
Disappointed that he wasn’t returning to the hobble with her, she nodded.
‘Come on, I’ll carry your basket until we reach the track,’ he said, taking it from her.
Fay was asleep in the garden when Eliza returned. Her battered bonnet had slipped over her face and was rising and falling as she gently snored. However, as Eliza made her way up the path, she woke with a start.
‘Had a good day?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I bumped into Duncan. He was swimming in the river and …’ she flushed. ‘Well, anyway, he showed me where to find the prettiest marsh flowers. They smell wonderful.’
Fay stared at her knowingly. ‘And how is Duncan?’
‘He’s busy at the moment but said he’d call by to see you soon. He wanted to know if you’d distilled any essences or anything yet,’ she told Fay, looking at her hopefully.
‘Busybodying whippersnapper,’ the woman muttered, rising stiffly to her feet. ‘Can’t sit here all afternoon. I’ve got my plants to see to.’
Eliza sighed and took herself indoors. She’d have liked to ask Fay what she could use her flowers for. Carefully she placed her specimens between the pages of the flower book, then set about making an infusion with the meadowsweet. At least she knew how to do that.
‘Here you are, Fay,’ she said, when the woman came indoors.
‘What’s this?’ she asked, eyeing the steaming mug suspiciously.
‘It’s to help you feel better,’ Eliza explained.
The woman snorted but inhaled the liquid. ‘Meadowsweet, eh?’ she commented, looking at Eliza knowingly.
Eliza nodded then smiled as Fay took a sip.
‘You made this without a receipt?’
‘Yes. Why, is something wrong with it?’
‘It’s as I thought, you’ve got the nose,’ Fay grudgingly admitted. ‘Not that I needed any fancy drink, mind. Early night’s what’s called for, I think.’
Although she was far from sleepy, Eliza saw how weary the woman looked and didn’t argue.
Next morning, Eliza woke to the sound of pots and pans being banged about. Quickly dressing, she pulled back the dividing curtain to find Fay had lit the fire and was busy placing something inside a big pan.
‘Morning, Fay,’ she said. ‘You’re up early.’
‘Well, seeing how you now think yourself competent in the use of flowers, I thought I’d better demonstrate the distillation process.’
Eliza’s spirits soared. ‘So the meadowsweet worked, then?’
‘It did, as it happens. But don’t get cocky,’ she warned as Eliza grinned. ‘You’ve got much to learn so watch and observe.’ She put a heavy flat stone into the bottom of the pan, then placed a mug on top. ‘This is to collect the distillate. Pass me that pail of water.’
Eliza did as she’d been asked and watched as Fay carefully poured in the liquid until it reached the bottom of the mug. Then she tore up a handful of rosemary, placed it in the water and covered the pan with the lid upside down.
‘Oh,’ Eliza exclaimed. ‘You’ve put the lid on the wrong way up – shall I turn it over?’
Fay clicked her tongue. ‘I’m not stupid, girl.’
‘Sorry, I was only trying to help.’
‘If that’s the extent of your helping then you can go back to bed,’ the woman admonished. ‘Now, are you going to watch and learn or interrupt me with inane comments?’
‘I’ll be quiet as a mouse,’ Eliza promised.
‘Mice twitch and I can’t abide that.’
Eliza bit her lip. Really, the woman was in a contrary mood this morning.
‘Now that lid’s upside down for a reason,’ Fay continued. ‘The handle in the middle is going to act as a collector, which will drip condensed steam into the mug.’
‘Will it take long?’ Eliza asked as the woman carefully placed the pan on a stand to the side of the fire.
‘It’ll take as long as it needs,’ Fay muttered, giving her a sharp look. ‘We’ll leave this now until the steam rises and the condensate drips into the cold mug.’
‘What’s condensate?’
‘It’s the substance resulting from condensation, in this case the liquid that comes from the vapour. I’m starving, so let’s eat while this does its job,’ Fay said, taking out her frying pan and throwing fat and thick bacon rashers into it.
As they sat eating their breakfast, Eliza kept her eye on the pan at the side of the fire.
‘It’s going to take a little time,’ Fay pointed out.
‘What will you use this condensate for?’
‘As I’ve told you before, rosemary is versatile and can be used to treat many ailments. It can counteract exhaustion, fatigue, help rheumatism, lift mood,’ Fay muttered.
Eliza smiled inwardly. Perhaps Fay could use it to help her bad temper.
‘But how does it work?’
‘You need to start with the basics, Eliza. Essential oils are produced by chlorophyll-bearing plants that absorb the sun’s rays and synthesize or produce organic or natural compounds.’
Eliza smiled and nodded as if she understood. Goodness, this was far more complicated than she’d thought. Fay wasn’t fooled, though.
‘Don’t worry if you can’t remember everything. The more you practise the better you understand. Now, I think it’s time to change the mug over otherwise it will overheat and redistil.’
As the heady aroma filled the room, Eliza began to see how the process worked.
Later, when Eliza had cleared away their things, Fay pulled the pan from the fire and lifted the inverted lid. Again the pungent aroma filled the room and Eliza watched as Fay carefully lifted out the mug and put it on the table.
‘There’s not much, is there?’ Eliza ventured, peering at the liquid.
‘Ah, but that liquid’s very potent and to be used sparingly. Later we’ll need to separate the oil from the distilled water, for both have their uses. Now stop standing there with arms both the same length and find something useful to occupy your time. I noticed weeds in the vegetable plot when I went out earlier. By the time you’ve done that this will have cooled and we can siphon off the oil.’
Eliza grimaced but seeing the doughty look on Fay’s face, she snatched up the receipt book and went outside.
Ignoring the weeds, she threw herself down on the grass and thumbed through the pages to see what she could use her flowers for. As the sun rose higher so did her spirits. There were so many different receipts she couldn’t wait to start. She stared around the garden, wondering what else she could use and then saw the dreaded weeds.
It didn’t take long to tidy the plot for her movements were easier now that the weather was warm and dry. Not having to wear the flannel petticoat under her cotton skirt made her feel liberated and she enjoyed the feel of fresh air on her bare arms. If only she didn’t have to wear those ugly black boots, she thought, scowling down at them.
Her musing was interrupted by Fay’s cry of dismay. Hurrying indoors, she found the woman staring at the spilled mug in disbelief while the liquid spread out over the table in ever increasing circles.
‘How could I have been so careless?’ she moaned. ‘I didn’t even see the damn mug.’
‘Shall I scoop up as much as I can and put it back?’
Fay sighed and shook her head. ‘The oil and
water have all mixed now.’
‘I’ll wipe up the mess then.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ Fay snapped.
‘Well, let me make you some tea,’ Eliza suggested, seeing how ashen the woman looked. ‘It’s not the end of the world. We can make some more for there’s plenty more of that rosema—’
‘It’s not that simple,’ Fay cut in. ‘Oh for Heaven’s sake, leave me alone. I’ve got much to think about.’
Eliza collected her basket and went back outside, hoping Fay would feel better once she’d had some time to herself. She couldn’t shake off the feeling of despondency that had descended like a cloak of doom.
As if echoing her mood, clouds covered the sun and she shivered. She wondered if she should return for her shawl but didn’t want to disturb Fay. Knowing it would be warmer in the woods, she made her way there hoping to find new flowers she could look up in the receipt book.
She found some exquisite plants nestling in the shade and was breathing in their sweet fragrance when, seemingly out of nowhere, a thick hill fog descended. It wrapped around her in strange dirty white swirls. Everywhere was still and quiet, everything cloaked in damp, desolate greyness. Strange shapes loomed, then disappeared like phantoms into the night. Shivering, she turned back and was trying to locate the path she’d taken earlier when a huge shadowy figure rose up before her, stopping her in her tracks.
‘Who are you?’ she shrieked, but there was no answer. She called out again, her voice quavering as she stared hard into the mist. ‘Who’s there?’ But the only sound was the echo of her own voice coming back to her in the eerie silence.
Hampered by her dragging foot, which felt leaden in the cold and damp, she made her way back to where she hoped the hobble was. Cursing as she stumbled on unseen roots and rocks, she urged herself on. Then she saw it, the glimmer of candlelight flickering out of the murk. Almost crying with relief, she limped up the path and threw open the door.
‘Goodness, where’s the fire?’ Fay asked, looking up from the table where she was studying her receipt book by the light from the candle.
‘A monster, huge,’ Eliza gasped, holding out her hands as far as they’d reach, then collapsing on the chair opposite. ‘It rose right up in front of me then disappeared in the mist.’
‘And did this monster say anything?’ Fay asked.
‘I called out but nobody answered. There was only the echo of my voice.’
‘Happen it was the Brocken, then.’
‘Who is this Brocken?’
‘Why, you, of course,’ Fay chuckled. Then seeing Eliza’s frown she explained, ‘That’s what they call the figure of your own self when it’s projected into the mist. There must have been some sort of light behind you for that to have happened.’
‘Oh and I’d just found some beautiful mauve flowers, too,’ Eliza muttered, feeling stupid and exhausted at the same time. She huddled nearer to the fire, wondering if she’d ever feel warm again.
‘Well, they’ll still be there tomorrow. Go and put on some dry clothes while I heat something to nourish you.’
By the time she’d dried herself and changed into the thick shirt and serge trousers, Fay had warmed some soup. As she passed over her mug, Eliza wondered what had happened to the essence they’d made earlier but knew better than to mention it. Instead she cupped her hands gratefully around the mug and sipped the tasty liquid, savouring the warmth as it thawed her both inside and out.
‘That was lovely,’ she said as she placed the empty mug on the hearth. ‘It’s so nice to be home again.’ As she gave a sigh of contentment, Fay shot her a searching look.
‘You like it here, then?’
‘Oh, yes, I love it. As I said to Duncan the other day, I’m so grateful to you for taking me in. I’d hate to live anywhere else now.’
Fay stared intently into the fire but didn’t answer.
17
It was some weeks before Duncan called on them again and, to Eliza’s surprise, no sooner had he sat down than Fay sent her outside.
‘We need vegetables for supper, Eliza, and when you’ve dug some please tidy the herb garden.’
‘Can’t I do that later? Duncan’s only just got here and I’ve so much to tell him.’
‘Now, please, Eliza. I have something important I need to discuss. You can chat with him later.’
‘But I …’
‘Now, if you would be so kind,’ Fay insisted firmly, and Eliza knew it would be useless to argue.
‘I’ll be out for a chat soon,’ Duncan assured her.
It seemed ages before he appeared and then he was looking grave.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.
‘I’m sorry but I can’t stop now. There’s an errand Fay’s asked me to do.’
‘Oh, Duncan, I haven’t seen you for weeks. Can’t you stay for just a little while?’
‘Sorry, little un. This is important.’
She opened her mouth to ask what could be more important than spending time sharing their news but he was already striding down the path. Picking up her fork, she stabbed it into the ground with frustration.
‘Don’t blame Duncan. He’s running an errand for me,’ Fay said, coming out to join her. ‘Now, I’ve something to show you.’
Eliza followed her over to the flower garden and gasped in surprise. The rose bush, which had been showing tight buds the previous day, was now a mass of red blooms. Bending her head, Eliza inhaled the intoxicating fragrance.
‘Don’t you just wish you could bottle this wonderful smell?’ she cried in delight.
Fay smiled. ‘You can, Eliza.’
Eliza stared at the woman, her thoughts running as fast as the stream. ‘You mean we can use flowers in the same way as the rosemary?’
‘With luck, without spilling it everywhere,’ Fay grinned.
‘Can we do it now?’ Eliza asked, hopping up and down excitedly.
Fay smiled indulgently. ‘You can, certainly.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, Eliza. I’d like to see how you get on. Collect the petals while I prepare the equipment. The fire should be just about right for heating the pan.’
Eliza ran inside to collect her basket and by the time she’d picked the flowers the woman had laid out everything ready.
‘The first thing you need to do is tear the petals into strips,’ Fay told her. Eliza carefully followed the woman’s instructions but her insides were bubbling with excitement. When at last the pan was heating gently over the fire she stood watching it, impatient to see the steam gently rising.
‘A watched pot never works, Eliza,’ Fay chuckled. ‘Instead of just standing there, why don’t you get the bottles out ready? Don’t forget you’ll need to change the mug to avoid it overheating,’ she reminded her, then sat promptly in her chair and fell asleep.
Having set the bottles on the table and swapped the mug, Eliza looked at the sleeping figure and frowned. Why, she hadn’t even consulted the receipt. Quickly she thumbed through the book until she came to the page on roses.
‘Know that one by heart,’ Fay muttered, opening one eye. ‘Smells like it’s ready now anyway,’ she added, rising to her feet and lifting the lid.
Eliza hurried over to the fire and gasped at the fragrant aroma rising from the pot. Carefully she took the drying cloth and lifted the mug over to the table.
Later, she sat staring in wonderment at the little row of bottles she’d filled and neatly labelled, hardly daring to believe she’d made the perfume herself. Then she unscrewed one, inhaled
the heady aroma and gave a sigh of pleasure.
‘Well done, Eliza. Did you enjoy that?’ Fay asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ Eliza exclaimed. ‘It’s a wonderful feeling to have created something so fragrant and uplifting.’
‘It will certainly be a testament to what you can achieve,’ Fay agreed, but Eliza was too preoccupied to take in her words.
When Duncan popped his head around the door a week or so later, Eliza could hardly contain her excitement. ‘Duncan, I’ve made my very own rose scent,’ she burst out, snatching up a bottle to show him. To her surprise, though, he frowned and turned to Fay.
‘You didn’t waste any time, then?’ he said, his voice tight as he handed her a letter.
‘What do you mean?’ Eliza asked, staring from one to the other but neither answered.
While Fay hurriedly tore at the seal, Duncan stared down at the floor. Then as she scrutinized the sheet of paper, a heavy hush descended.
‘Farrant’s agreed,’ she finally announced.
Duncan’s head snapped up and he turned to Eliza. When she saw the look in his eyes, she felt fear flame in her breast yet didn’t understand why.
‘Who’s agreed to what?’ she asked. ‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’
‘Sit down, Eliza. We have something to discuss,’ Fay ordered. Eliza glanced at Duncan, who nodded. Fay waited until she’d perched on the edge of her chair. ‘Eliza, you have a talent for aromas that I feel should be encouraged. The son of an old friend of mine is a Master Perfumer in Devonshire and he has agreed to train you in the business. Now, is that not a wonderful opportunity?’
‘Devonshire? But that’s miles away from here. I couldn’t possibly travel there and back each day,’ she exclaimed. Then she saw the look on the woman’s face. ‘You want to get rid of me, don’t you?’
‘No, I don’t, as it happens. However, circumstances change, and this is a wonderful opportunity for you to make something of your life.’