The Lady Brewer of London

by Karen Brooks

  “I thought it was you,” hissed a voice in my ear.

  “Tobias!” I tempered my voice just in time, but my heart leapt. Spinning around at his name, the twins, who were on either side of me, squealed and were immediately hushed.

  Tobias lifted Betje into his arms, and she strangled his neck. Karel hugged his legs and if it hadn’t been for Sir Leander’s timely arrival at his back, he would have toppled.

  “God’s good day and a merry Christmas, Mistress Sheldrake,” said Sir Leander softly, sliding between Tobias and me. As he bent down to whisper, his mouth brushed my earlobe.

  A wave of heat that had nothing to do with the crush of people swept over me.

  “Merry Christmas, my lord,” I replied, my voice foreign, twisting my head slightly, only to find his lips inches from my own. My eyes dropped to that mouth, so full, so firm. Blushing, I raised my eyes to find his locked onto mine.

  Time contracted in the tiny space in which we were trapped. I was no longer aware of the crowd, of the sermon, or even of the twins or Tobias. All that existed was Sir Leander and those cerulean eyes and that mouth. Unable to move, to think, it was only another push, this time from Saskia, that brought me to my senses.

  “Thank the Lord that’s over,” said Saskia, a little too loudly. Frowns and some laughter washed over us.

  Caught in the tide of people leaving the cathedral, it wasn’t until we were outside, the cold nipping our flesh, that we were able to find one another again, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Westel since we entered.

  Just as I was about to ask Adam where he was, Westel rounded the corner of the building, his cheeks red, his cap askew. Before I could ask where he’d been, the twins tugged at my arms.

  “Come on, Anneke. Hurry up.” Karel jumped up and down.

  “I’m getting cold.” Betje’s teeth started to chatter.

  The contrast between the church and outside was harsh. Questions flew out of my mind as the twins led me away, though I did remember to introduce Westel to my brother and his master. Overwhelmed, he kept his face down, his cap low, and mumbled greetings.

  To the ringing of bells and the joyful strains of carols, we walked home quickly, the wind blowing flakes of snow into flurries around our ankles, catching our cloaks and whipping them aside, allowing the air to grip like an iron vise. Increasing our pace, we laughed at nature’s attempts to cool our excited spirits.

  If there weren’t as many calling out greetings as last year, or if those who turned aside before I could offer good cheer left me a little deflated, I chose not to dwell upon it. Not today. Tobias was here. No one and nothing could spoil Christmas. I linked arms with my brother and, with Westel leading the way, the twins skipping at our heels and Sir Leander escorting Saskia while Adam accompanied Iris and Louisa, I chose to thank the good Lord for sending me this day and everything that came with it.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” whispered Tobias. “But I told Sir Leander he was welcome to join us. His father and brother are with the king at Westminster, so . . .”

  “Of course,” I said quickly, the tinder in my heart catching fire.

  Twenty minutes later, divested of coats, hoods, and gloves, we entered Holcroft House, the servants scattering at once to their tasks. It was left to me to escort our guests inside.

  Draped with ivy and other greenery that Adam and Will had cut from the forests, the hall looked festive. A huge fire roared in the hearth with the logs we’d added before mass. Trestle tables covered with white linen ran down one side of the room, the stools and benches tucked beneath. A pearly daylight streamed through the windows, but even so, we lowered the chandelier by its rope, lit the candles and then hoisted it up again. Around the room, more candles were lit, including the large Yule one that sat in the center of the table. The scents of pine and cloves made the smoky air sharp and alive. As Sir Leander entered, Blanche clapped her hands in delight and, before I could prevent it, grabbed a stool, put it in the center of the room and urged him to stand upon it.

  “I need the tallest man here, my lord. And that’s you,” she said. “If you’re able,” she added, glancing uncertainly at his leg.

  “If I can fight for king and country and sail the oceans, I can surely attend to this.” He laughed.

  With goodwill, he mounted carefully, handing his walking stick to Saskia as Blanche passed him the mistletoe. The twins chased the hounds around the table, testing Will, who was trying to place the goblets, mazers, and spoons. Iris and Louisa narrowly avoided Karel as they carried in trays replete with trenchers of bread, tureens of rich gravy, and bowls of hot fruity sauces, while Blanche followed with a plate upon which reclined a huge steamed sturgeon. When Iris and Blanche returned with a large bowl brimming with wassail, cups were quickly found and the rich, heated spiced wine was passed around. With a heave-ho, Westel and Adam added another huge log to the fire, sending sparks flying up the chimney and into the room as they leaped out of the way, laughing and brushing their hands together. The dogs began barking at Westel, Achilles’s teeth bared. Westel froze while Adam tried to restrain them. Father Clement chose that moment to arrive, beaming at us all and bestowing blessings upon the house. A cheer was raised, and, Westel forgotten, the dogs raced toward the good father, Adam capturing them before they could pounce. Dragging them outside, he tossed them a bone and shut the door.

  The bell to the shop rang loudly and Will darted down the corridor, reappearing with Captain Stoyan, who clutched two large jugs of what I guessed was beer and a flagon of Gascony wine. More greetings were given and happy chatter flowed.

  Tobias took my fingers in his and called everyone to the table. Seating me in the center, he sat to my right and invited Sir Leander to sit on my left, Captain Stoyan beside him and Father Clement next to Tobias. Delighted that Tobias surrendered his rightful position to me, in what I recognized was both an apology and affirmation, I beamed at everyone, conscious mainly of Sir Leander and the way his shoulder kept brushing against mine. Once Will and Blanche ensured everyone had a fresh drink, the twins included, Tobias struck his knife against the side of a gilt bowl, calling for silence. Holding his vessel aloft, he offered the first of what would be many wassails.

  We drank and, taking our seats, clapped as Blanche brought in the goose. Steam wafted from its golden skin and the smell of its tender flesh made my mouth water. A suckling pig, basted in spiced apple and wine sauce was followed by mortrews—crumbed chicken and pork dusted with saffron, sugar, and salt. There was roasted venison, salted herring, baked mackerel, and so many other delicious dishes of meat, fish, and sauces, I lost count and instead unlatched my eating knife and prepared to feast.

  The sadness that had hung like a pall over our house ever since Mother died, and which was renewed with Father’s passing, was finally lifting. Studying the faces of those who sat at the table as they filled their trenchers, first offering their neighbor the finest cuts of meat or fish, wiping their shared goblets with such consideration, I felt a sense of contentment, of being among family and friends, and satisfaction with what we’d achieved thus far washed over me.

  Hours passed as we ate, laughed, and drank, and shadows grew. The bells for vespers tolled and yet none made any effort to move, choosing to nurse our drinks and pick at the remaining food. Outside, the snow fell, cocooning us within the hall. When the little rectangular mince or humble pies, made from the innards of game, were passed around, there was hesitation as everyone considered what they would wish for before they took the first bite. Having prepared my wish some days ago, I was about to sink my teeth into the tawny crust when I caught Sir Leander staring at me with the most peculiar expression on his face. Pausing, I tipped my head toward him. What was he thinking to regard me so?

  “I know what I’m wishing for,” announced Karel, kneeling on the bench, trying to shove the entire pie into his mouth.

  “Karel!” squealed Betje. “You’ll spoil it that way.” She tried to prevent him, tugging at his arm so only a por
tion went into his mouth. The remainder of the pie fell on the floor and, with a hoarse bark, Patroclus, who’d been readmitted some time ago, fell upon it, Achilles being too slow. A squabble broke out and I was forced to set my pie down, rise to my feet, and separate the twins. Adam jumped up and ordered the dogs back to their place by the fire. Will and Iris laughed while Blanche took it as a cue to start collecting empty platters.

  The threat of missing the dancing was enough to quieten the twins. While Blanche and Westel cleared the tables and organized what leftovers would provide alms for the poor who would gather soon at the church door, Will and Adam took up their instruments—this time, a gittern and flute. Tobias led Betje into the center of the room, while Sir Leander, leaving his cane, took Louisa’s hand. Saskia grabbed Father Clement; Iris, Captain Stoyan. Sitting on a stool, with Karel upon my lap, we clapped in time, watching them spin, stamp their heels, and weave around each other. The pace slowly increased, until they were a whir of color, hair, wool, linens, and boots. Testimony to tiredness, Betje was unable to maintain the pace and tripped. Tobias fell over. He landed on his rump next to the hounds, who promptly jumped upon his chest, forcing him to the floor and licking his face. Betje also climbed atop her brother. Karel as well.

  The laughter was loud and contagious, and it was a while before we recovered.

  Even then, amongst all the gaiety, I noted the way the hounds slinked around Westel, their hackles raised; how they maintained a distance from him and he them.

  Later, another, slower tune was played and I forgot about the hounds, Westel, the way the people in the church had snubbed me, I forgot about everything . . . Saskia and Tobias swayed in time with the music, as did Westel, holding a blushing Iris. Solemnly, Karel led Louisa to the floor. I was astonished to find Sir Leander standing in front of my stool, his hand held out.

  “Go on, Anneke,” said Betje, nudging me. Captain Stoyan and Father Clement added their entreaties.

  Staring into those sapphire eyes, I wanted to refuse, but didn’t want to appear churlish. It was Christmas. What would one dance matter? Anyhow, I had offered him a chance. My cheeks pinked as thoughts of what happened in church took off in a series of complicated steps.

  In less time than it took to say “Ave Maria,” my hand was clasped in his. As our fingers touched, my heart became a juggler’s ball and heat traveled from my center to, God forgive me, lower regions, causing my mind to reel.

  Drawing me to my feet, Sir Leander moved me into position. The dance required us to come together and then part. Whereas a civil distance was generally maintained, Sir Leander abided by no such rules, pulling me so close to him, I could smell the sweet scent of cloves on his breath, catch that musky, warm smell that was his own. Refusing to meet his eyes, I was all too aware that his never left my face. His palm was warm, hard, his long fingers twined possessively through mine. As we stepped toward each other, his hip brushed against me and a violent jolt ran through my body, causing me to gasp. Spinning me around so my hair, already tumbling from its bindings, flew out, he grinned. With a gentle tug, he drew me back toward him, remaining still while I whirled around him, a star locked in his orbit. Refusing to release me to my next partner, Sir Leander laughed. Westel, understanding that my lord had no intention of surrendering me, took Iris back with a frown.

  Thinking this was a game, the twins giggled and clapped their hands in appreciation. Saskia called encouragement.

  “You can’t follow the rules, can you, my lord?” I said as we came together.

  He smiled. His teeth were so white. His skin, even in the dead of winter, darker than most, especially against the creamy collar of his shirt, carried lines of experience and laughter. I could see some bristles where Tobias’s razor had missed.

  “I find that amusing, coming from a woman who creates her own.”

  I shook my head, glancing down at my feet so I didn’t have to look at him any longer. The warmth that suffused my body was fast becoming a furnace and I felt everyone watching us. I wanted to escape his hold, return to the safety of my stool, but I let the music and Sir Leander carry me forward toward the center of the room.

  “Mistress Sheldrake,” he said softly. “Anneke . . .”

  My head shot up. Not so much at the use of my name, but at the tenderness in his tone.

  “There’s something I’ve not told y—”

  “Look where you are!” Betje leapt to her feet, pointing.

  “You have to kiss her!” shouted Karel.

  I glanced toward the twins to see what Betje was madly indicating when a pair of lips captured my own.

  It was as if a thousand butterflies were released inside me. My heart hammered, my head spun. Tingling sensations that began where his mouth held mine escaped to travel to every single part of my body, suffusing it with white-hot heat.

  His kiss deepened as the roaring in my ears, in my chest, in my heart, grew. An ache such as I’d never known rose from deep within me to radiate out to the tips of my fingers, to the ends of my feet. God forgive me, I groaned into his mouth as our tongues twined. I so desperately wanted to draw him closer, feel the entire length of his firm body against mine. My hands explored his back, inching upward and longing to coil his silky black locks around my fingers. The hand that held me tight crept lower until it rested against the curve at the base of my spine, his fingers burning through the wool of my tunic . . .

  The surging in my ears increased, warning me.

  My eyes fluttered open and with all my strength, I shoved Sir Leander away. He staggered back a step or two, tossed that dark head, and laughed. Without his stick, he almost lost his footing.

  The twins were crying out in glee; the servants were openmouthed, laughing and cheering. Father Clement crossed himself; the captain clapped. Tobias shook his head, what I thought was an uncertain smile hovering on his lips. Only Westel, who’d abandoned Iris to watch, was grim-faced. I stared at them all and then Sir Leander, chagrined, perplexed. I pressed my fingers to my swollen mouth and then swiped the back of my hand across it. My cheeks were flaming, my eyes glassy.

  It was not that he’d kissed me that distressed me so much as how I’d responded. Oh, sweet Mother Mary, with every fiber of my being I’d answered his Christmas kiss with a wantonness that shocked me.

  Frozen in the moment, the movement around me didn’t register until the swirl of skirts and flicker of hands could no longer be ignored. Already the kiss was forgotten and the dance had resumed. After all, what else did one do beneath mistletoe? It was custom. First Saskia and Captain Stoyan, then Iris and Blanche, Tobias and Louisa also kissed, cheeks, mouths, fingers, as they moved around and beneath the greenery.

  I wandered unsteadily back to my stool, to the twins who both sought my lap as soon as I sat down, Karel winning, Betje taking second place by my side.

  In a daze, my thoughts and flesh afire, I watched the dancing, refusing to look at Sir Leander, even though I knew exactly where he was in the hall and with whom he chose to dance and for how long.

  Tobias staggered over, looking as if he wished to say something, but, as he drew closer, he changed his mind and led the twins away instead.

  “Last dance before bed,” I called, grateful for the distraction.

  “Not till we’ve had frumenty!” cried Karel as Tobias swept him into his arms and spun him around. Finding his feet again, Karel planted his hands on his hips and stared at me, waiting for a reply, determined not to miss any of the fruity pudding he loved.

  “Very well,” I agreed, “but then straight to the nursery.”

  Leaning back against the wall, I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. It had come completely loose and fell over my shoulders, forming tangled tendrils around my face. I tried to make it neater. It was a lost cause. Addle-headed, I left my hair undone and sighed again.

  “Are you all right, Mistress Sheldrake?”

  It was Westel. Standing next to me, on the other side of Betje, who’d fled the dance, he passed me a fre
sh cup of wassail. I blinked and gratefully took it, swallowing it too quickly. I spluttered and wiped my mouth, aware again of my lips, of Sir Leander’s. I saw the flash of his dark green doublet out of the corner of my eye.

  “Shall I get you some water?” Westel pushed Betje aside gently and knelt down. Our eyes were level. He had such a sweet face. No wrong could come from someone who looked like that, could it? He didn’t steal kisses, call me whore, retract it, and then confuse me with his ways.

  “I’m fine,” I said slowly. “Just very warm.” I fanned myself with my hand. “Thank you for the drink.”

  “Thank you, Mistress Sheldrake.”

  Betje tried to grab my attention. Karel ran over, a bowl of frumenty in his hand.

  “Are you all right, Anneke?” he said between swallows.

  “I think it’s time for you two to go to bed,” I said.

  They began to argue, but hearing me, Louisa came at once. “Come on,” she said softly. “It’s well past bedtime. Bring the frumenty with you. Tomorrow’s St. Stephen’s Day and you want to be awake early to receive your gifts, don’t you?”

  The reminder of the presents we would exchange was enough to still any arguments the twins were ready to muster. With hugs and kisses, bows and goodbyes, they bid us all good night.

  Once they’d left the hall and the dancing resumed, I turned my attention to Westel again.

  “For what do you thank me, Westel? The way I see it, I owe you a great deal. Life has been very different since you arrived at Holcroft House. The success of the ale, the quantity we produce, is in large part due to your hard work.”

  Squatting, his elbows on his thighs, his fingers pointing toward the floor, Westel considered his response. For all that he appeared open, Westel was a closed book to me. Aware of my thoughts, he flashed a grin. “Aye, and for that I’ll reap my own rewards. But you’ve been so kind to me. You’ve not only given me a job, but you’ve welcomed me into your family and given me a home.” He looked around the room. “I don’t recall ever experiencing merrymaking like this. Christmas past was spent in prayer, in cloisters, and then tending the poor.”