The Witch of Eye by Mari Griffith Read Free Book Online Page B

you?’
    ‘No, sir. I have only recently met Robin. So you must take my word for it,’ she said quietly. ‘And I’m jonnack.’
    ‘I thought you said your name was Jenna?’
    ‘It is, sir. I’m sorry. I meant I’m jonnack, I speak the truth.’
    He looked down at her again from under his eyebrows, his dark hair falling forward, blue eyes sizing her up. He was amused, but he had no wish to embarrass her.
    ‘No,’ he said, ‘you don’t look like a liar. But I have only your word about your experience. What do you know of milk tallies? Could you keep account?’
    ‘Oh, yes, sir. I was nearly always the one who did that. And I was responsible for the cheese and butter, depending on the tally of milk.’
    ‘Didn’t your stepfather keep account?’
    ‘Yes, sir, to start with. But not after the parson in our village had taught some of us to reckon up numbers and to read a few words.’
    ‘You’ll be telling me next that you looked after the hens as well!’
    ‘I did, sir, geese too. The eggs fetched a good price.’
    ‘Then why, in Heaven’s name, did you leave? Seems to me you had good employment.’
    ‘I did, sir.’
    William didn’t quite know what to make of this girl – this woman, rather. Her gaze was disarmingly steady, as though she was challenging him to ask her what had brought her here to Eye-next-Westminster. Perhaps she was one of the drover’s women? His friend Robin been known to boast of his conquests after a few tankards of ale; perhaps he wanted to keep this one here in Westminster, away from his respectable family in Devon. But, even if she wasn’t the drover’s woman, no doubt it was all to do with some man. It usually was, especially with the pretty ones, and this one’s eyes were as sweet and brown as chestnuts under her linen coif. And she had an appealing little way of cocking her head to one side when he questioned her, as though anxious not to miss anything he might say, eager to please. She was clearly intelligent and she looked strong, too, as though she wasn’t afraid of hard work. If she was telling the truth – and he had a shrewd idea she was – then she’d be an asset to the dairy at Eybury Farm.
    But the dairy was rightly Margery’s responsibility. As his wife, her place was at his side, helping him to run the farm, not putting him in the position of having to do any of the milking himself. That was women’s work. If Margery did run the dairy, as she was supposed to, then he wouldn’t need to employ anyone like this woman. Nor have to pay for the privilege.
    ‘Well,’ he said, ‘we sometimes have a vacancy for a dairymaid, but the running of the dairy is my wife’s responsibility, so I’ll speak to her first. Come back tomorrow.’
    ‘Thank you, Master Jourdemayne,’ said Jenna, disappointed. ‘I’ll be here at first light. Do you think your wife might...’
    ‘I said I’d speak to her. If she wants to take you on, I’ll let you know tomorrow.’
    ‘Thank you, sir,’ Jenna said again. She was about to drop a curtsey when she remembered Robin saying that William Jourdemayne was no more than a tenant farmer, for all that he had complete responsibility for managing Eybury as a stock farm. So she simply took her leave of him and had turned to walk away when he called after her.
    ‘Have you somewhere to sleep tonight?’
    She hesitated, unsure of his meaning, buying time. ‘I beg your pardon, sir?’
    ‘I said have you somewhere to sleep tonight? The drovers always sleep in the big barn, but there’s plenty of room in the hay loft. Make up a pallet for yourself and sleep up there if you want. At least you’ll have a roof over your head. Don’t worry, two or three of the younger girls sleep up there, too. You won’t be on your own, so the stable lads won’t trouble you. They’ll feel my belt on their backsides if they do.’
    He smiled at her and she smiled shyly in return. He seemed a decent man and he did offer the realistic prospect of good,