“What am I to do?” Alys asked.
“Well, I suggest ye talk to the man who’s responsible for yer swelling belly. Hopefully, he’ll have ye up before the priest before too long, and all will be well.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Alys asked weakly, knowing that could never happen.
“If he doesn’t, then ye have yerself a problem, my girl. Ye can have yer baby and face the consequences, or ye can get rid of it.”
“Get rid of it?” Alys whispered, staring at the old woman.
“Oh, aye,” Maude said. “There are ways.”
“What ways?”
“An infusion of pennyroyal usually does the trick. It won’t be pleasant, but it’ll do the job. Do ye have coin?” Maud asked.
“Yes,” Alys muttered.
“Ye can buy the pennyroyal now, or ye can talk to yer man. Maybe he’ll feel sorry for the little bastard and save its life.” Maude sounded so matter-of-fact, it was as if she wasn’t talking about taking a human life but about catching a fish and throwing it back in the river to let it live another day. “What will it be, pet?”
Alys tried to hold back her tears as she extracted a coin from the leather pouch where she kept her few pennies. Maud took two and handed her a tiny linen sachet.
“Steep this in hot water for at least five minutes, then drink it. It’ll work within an hour or two, so make sure ye can get away when ye need to. Best if ye go in the woods, somewhere near a creek. Ye’ll need to clean yourself up after, and ye don’t want anyone hearing ye scream.”
“Will it hurt that much?” Alys asked.
Maude nodded. “Aye, it will hurt something awful, but not as much as childbirth, and it’s quicker. ’Tis a woman’s lot in life to bear pain,” Maude said thoughtfully. “Now go. I’d like to have me dinner.”
Alys staggered toward the road. She was grateful she wasn’t walking back with anyone from the manor, since she couldn’t have managed to hide her devastation. Jeremy’s child. A baby created in love that would now have to die because Jeremy was already married to a woman he despised. Alys could almost feel the weight of the little pouch she’d hidden in her bodice. She’d have to take the potion and then go into the woods, like an animal, to hide her pain and wash away her shame. Animals would devour what was left of her baby, their teeth stained red with its blood. Tears welled in her eyes and she allowed them to fall, her despair concealed by the darkness of the winter night.
She barely felt the cold or noticed the snow falling. All she could think of was holding a baby at her breast, a little dark-haired boy that was healthy and strong and resembled his father. Alys collapsed onto her truckle bed when she got back, unable to face the rest of the servants as they gathered in the kitchen for supper before serving supper upstairs. One benefit to being stuck in the sickroom was that at least she could grieve in private. Alys wept into her pillow as she clutched the pouch of dried pennyroyal in her hand, acutely conscious of its deadly power. Tomorrow, she would use it.
Chapter 52
Alys was still clutching the pouch when she woke, the pillow damp beneath her cheek.
“Ye’re a sight,” Millie said when she came in to bring Mistress Ashcombe’s morning broth and Alys’s bread and butter. “What’s amiss?”
“Nothing,” Alys mumbled, pushing the pouch under the pillow.
“Well, come on, then. Time for work. I’ll have Stephen bring hot water,” Millie said, wrinkling her nose meaningfully as she approached the bed and set down the tray. “I really think ye need to air out this bedchamber, Alys.”
“Dr. Williams forbids it,” Alys replied.
“Dr. Williams is not here,” Millie said. “The stink in here could make a healthy person ill. Just look at ye. Ye look like a three-day-old corpse.” Millie marched toward the window and pushed it open a crack. “There. No need to thank me. Just close it before Stephen comes up.”
“Thank ye,” Alys said, and meant it. Millie was the only person among the staff who looked out for her. Everyone else was only too happy to leave her to her task, thankful it wasn’t assigned to them.
Alys waited for Millie to leave the room before getting dressed. There was nothing to see, but Alys worried that somehow Millie would notice the barely perceptible changes in her body. She hid the pouch in her bodice, afraid to leave it unattended, not that anyone bothered to change the linens on her bed. She couldn’t afford to purchase another one, and even if she did, she might not have the nerve. She went about her duties as if in a fog, her stomach clenching with fear every time she allowed her thoughts to stray to what she must do. There was no perfect time, so she’d have to sneak out during the night and wait in the woods until the potion took effect.
The thought of being alone in the frigid darkness at her most vulnerable nearly made her cry again. She was terrified, not only of the pain but of the sin she’d be committing. It was bad enough that she had given herself to a man who was not her husband, but to murder a child in cold blood had to earn her a place in Hell even if she’d been a veritable saint until now.
Just before noon, Alys saw Jeremy through the window. He’d been out on the estate, and his cloak was dusted with snow, his hat pulled low over his eyes. Alys slipped out of the room and stood in the gallery, peering down into the foyer and waiting for him
