'What is that?'
'A pretty mosaic of meat, fish and salad.'
Slices of cooked chicken had been laid around the outer perimeter of the platter, alternating neatly with a trimmed green bean between each. More beans made a second circle, then Juliana placed a third ring, this time pieces of boned anchovy mixed with nuts and silver onions. She painted salad oil on the pudding basin, a device of her own to help create a centrepiece by sticking on finely trimmed celery, transparent cut radishes, leaves of sorrel, berries and spinach. In a clean bowl she prepared chopped egg yolks, the diced leg-meat of the roasted chickens, capers, almonds and parsley, bonded with a salad dressing which she mixed up fresh. The whole grand display was decorated with nasturtium flowers and, on the top of the central bowl, a turnip cut into the shape of a flower, which Gideon Jukes knew of old must be his sister-in-law's handiwork.
Valentine lost interest and scampered outside. Juliana followed him to the door and called, 'Val — tell Thomas not to spy on people!' When she turned back to the kitchen, there was no choice but to speak.
'Anne Jukes and her husband are walking in the orchard, while they try to come to terms,' stated Juliana.
'I shall not disturb them.' Gideon reflected that this was the closest he had ever come to one of the enemy, except when he was killing them. It did kindle a frisson of excitement. The young woman had used an extremely sharp knife to slice the radishes. She had chopped those egg yolks, Gideon thought, as if she was imagining they were Roundheads' livers… Possibly he fantasised.
'So you are…?' she asked pointedly. A woman had the right to know who was sitting in her kitchen, picking Shrewsbury cake off his doublet.
'Gideon Jukes.' He ate the crumbs. Orlando Lovell would have brushed them away. That was when Juliana spotted the missing ends to several of his fingertips.
He must be thirty; fair-skinned; boyish features. Although he and Lambert were of different builds, and must have many years between them, Juliana could now see a likeness. She noticed that Gideon Jukes did not use the title of Captain which she knew he had. When he said his name, with an effort she managed not to exclaim Ah! to let him know she had heard of him. Men should not be encouraged to think themselves famous, Grand-mere once said.
He was not what she had expected. Well, that was interesting.
For his part, Gideon identified from her manner and the shape of her face that this was definitely the boys' mother, though the children shared distinct looks from another source. He knew from Lambert that her absent husband, the Delinquent, was a Colonel Orlando Lovell. He knew something else too, which the woman might not herself have heard: Robert — who had met Mistress Lovell when she brought Lambert home ill — had noticed in the Westminster reports that Colonel Lovell had levied war against Parliament last year, for which he had been labelled dangerous and voted unfit for pardon. Presumably the man was abroad. Presumably he would have to stay there.
Gideon Jukes felt curious. Mistress Juliana Lovell was not widowed, yet seemed condemned to a lonely life. Judging by her bare house, she lived close to poverty. How did she survive? Why did she not join her absent husband? She seemed too self-assured to be afraid of exile; besides, Anne Jukes had said Mistress Lovell was half- French.
Clearing his throat, he embarked on polite conversation, relating what Lambert had brought for Anne. 'It took us — two plain men, though with honest hearts — much ingenuity to find a suitable gift for a woman who believes that God made the world a treasury for the common man and woman, and that all wealth should be redistributed equally'
'Since Mistress Jukes does not care for outward show, there was no point in a rushed trip to the nearest jewellers,' Juliana agreed. For some reason she thought of the great pearl necklace Lovell once brought her. It lay in its velvet-lined box, at the bottom of her linen chest. She could have worn it today, in honour of Anne.
She was wearing, however, beneath a long apron, the gown that had been her wedding dress. Its once-bright silk had faded until only the deepest gathers of the skirt still showed their original colour. It had a significantly low neckline, but she wore a decent linen gorget to cover her bosom. It seemed to her that Lambert Jukes's pious brother was concentrating too hard on the glimpses of flesh where the circular collar's vandyked lace edge did not altogether meet the top of her silk bodice…
Gideon would say his interest was purely mathematical. Being particularly observant, a fact he was proud of, he had also noted that when Mistress Juliana Lovell bent forwards — for instance, to place the glowing nasturtium flowers on her decorative solomongundi (as his mother had called them) — a narrow triangle of pale bare skin revealed itself intriguingly between the two fronts of the gorget, which was pinned at the neck with a pearl brooch and a bunch of blue ribbons. The ends of the ribbons spoiled the view sometimes — though that added to the challenge.
'Goldsmiths were barred to us,' he replied in a glum tone.
'I would have bought her a new Dutch hoe!' Juliana declared. The tall man eyed her in careful silence. This was hard work. 'So what did the pair of you settle on?' she asked, enticing the story from him as if he were one of her sons.
'Velvet house slippers.'
'With a fur trimming?'
'We did not think of that.' Gideon looked wistful about the lost opportunity. Still wearing that earnest expression, he appealed to Juliana for approval: 'The reasoning was thus: a frivolity — yet useful. Sufficiently expensive to indicate my brother's true repentance of his deficiencies as a husband — which are so many — yet soft on the feet after a hard day labouring in cold fields… In case our dear Anne was still partaking of the agricultural life.'
'Gracious heavens,' exploded Juliana. 'I hope you ninnies bought the right size!'
He shot her a look of reproof. 'This was not overlooked! An old shoe was found at the back of a cupboard, madam, and taken to be measured.'
You thought of that, thought Juliana, for some reason quite certain of it.
Then Gideon Jukes abruptly opened his true blue eyes wider and flashed a conspiratorial gleam. He knew Juliana realised how hard he had worked to bring Lambert here in a conciliatory frame of mind. Too late, she understood just how much mischief and amusement was being concealed. The man had been acting all along.
And what,' asked Juliana, a little more coolly than she had intended, 'if Mistress Anne Jukes declines to be won over? If a bought gift will not do?'
'Horrors!' Lambert's brother propelled himself more upright. 'But in the failing of the first clause, the second clause at once comes into effect.'
'Which is?' Juliana fought off a smile.
'This, madam: my brother will tell his wife, Anne, of his unfailing devotion to her. His constancy and care of her. He will applaud her fine temperament and talents. Her personable features. Her devotion to God and to her meagre husband. Her gentleness, tolerance, honesty, good faith and bravery. Her wit, her skills, her conversation, her kindness. He may — though of course I must blush to say this to a stranger — have some praising words for their pleasures in bed.' He did not blush, though Juliana felt somewhat heated. Above all,' Gideon went on, ticking off points on his damaged fingers, 'he will not forget to dwell avidly upon the splendour of her manchet rolls and how wondrously she can cut a turnip into the form of a delicate flower.'
'You are a wag, Captain Jukes. Do you also juggle with feather mops?'
'I am a true man. He will unburden his heart.'
It will work, thought Juliana. She felt wooed herself. That was dangerous.
Captain Jukes lowered his eyes. His voice was stripped of all comedy. 'Is it your opinion my poor brother will persuade his wife to return?'
'Will he live in the home, share her labours in their business, avoid the company of old soldiers, cease drinking in low taverns — and be grateful that he has a wife?'
'I can suggest this,' offered Gideon.
'Anne will suggest it!' returned Juliana fiercely. 'Well, sir; she must have told him her feelings by now, and they have not come in from the orchard, bitterly arguing. She has not called me out to help her bury his cadaver… Since you ask, I believe she will go back. She grew tired of the community at Cobham. The hard struggles and frequent danger. Tired of the cold fields, but also tired, she says, of people who were neither hers by blood nor
