At the Sign of the Star by Katherine Sturtevant Read Free Book Online

kept his pens, and inkpots, and the tray of sand he used to blot his words when they were written. A great clutter of objects lay about: a paper knife, an empty tankard, several of my father’s pipes. Dust lay upon everything, for Jane and Hester were forbidden to come in with their rags. My father did not like things disturbed.
    There were two chairs there. My father by custom sat always in one, and I in the other. Mine was cane. My father’s had an embroidered cushion with small blue flowers, done by my mother years ago. Now it was grimy with soot, and worn away in places from my father’s sitting. Sometimes, when he was not in the house, I sat upon his chair and read his papers. It was not my job to do so, but he never minded, and I was curious to read the things he would not publish as well as the things he would.
    â€œMargaret,” my stepmother said. I looked up at her, but for a moment she said no more. She looked around the untidy room and then cast her eyes heavenward. “Something must be done about this room!” she said, and smiled at me as though she thought I would agree.
    â€œFather likes it this way,” I answered.
    Her smile faded. She regarded me with a grave and kindly air. At last she said, “You have been long without a mother, but that is past. You are my daughter now, and I am your mother.”
    â€œI do not need a mother,” I said. “I have Hester.”
    â€œHester has not taught you all that you must know.”
    I looked down at my page, but she put her hand across it, so that I found myself staring at the jeweled ring on her left hand instead of the close handwriting I had been squinting at the moment before.
    â€œI have been discussing your education with your father. How he made me laugh! What a sorry wife you would make if you were to marry now. Fortunately, you need not think of that. We have time enough to teach you all you must learn. More time in the kitchen, that is what you need, and let the apprentices take care of the shop.”
    â€œI do not want to be taken from the shop.”
    â€œYou need not fear, Margaret. I am not sending you to drudge in the kitchen. Hester, Jane, and Cook will do our bidding, and you will learn to make plague-waters and healing teas and to order a grand dinner and how to write out an invitation and what to say to the Lord Mayor, if he should come here. We will have great fun.”
    â€œThe Lord Mayor has been here,” I said.
    She lifted her hand at last, and I bent my head to read again.
    â€œPut that aside, Margaret.”
    I paid her no heed.
    â€œYour father bade me take your education in hand, Meg. I am your mother now, and this is my household. Do you think I will fail of my duty to you?”
    I looked up at her then, and saw that the kindness she began with had gone. There were spots of red in her pale cheeks, and her little eyes were nearly closed. I could see that she meant to have her way.
    â€œCome with me, now,” she said.
    â€œYes, Mother,” I said. I stood swiftly and laid the sheaf of papers upon the table.
    It surprised her, I saw, but she did not hesitate. She led the way to the stillroom. This was a small room near to the kitchen, where all manner of medicines were prepared for the household. The shelves were filled with dark bottles, some with stoppers and others covered with cloth. Bundles of herbs were pinned to the wall to dry, shedding their sharp scents into the air we inhaled. The room was not strange to me; I don’t know how many times I had interrupted Hester there over the years. But as I stood there with my father’s new wife it was not Hester I thought of, but my own mother. I remembered her there when Louis was dying, how she worked with grim face, and snapped at me when I tried to speak my fear. The memory was so strong and bitter I almost turned and ran. But I looked at my new mother and knew that hope did not lie in flight.
    â€œToday I will