Free The Apothecary Rose by Candace Robb

into the garden, one window below, two above. A modest but comfortable house.
    Down below, Bess Merchet bellowed an order. Owen grinned. She could be useful to him. And he liked her. Sharp-witted, bold, comely for the mother of grown children - bright red hair, a round but compact body - and a nice sense of humour. Little could get past her. She must know all the gossip worth know ing.
    He put on his boots and patch and went downstairs with his salve pot and money pouch.
    'You'll be hungry,' was Bess's greeting. She motioned to him to sit down at a trestle table. 'Kit! A trencher and stew. And some of the new ale.'
    A man came through the back door, carrying a bucket. He nodded to Owen. 'Tom Merchet.' Younger than Bess by a few years, burly, with friendly eyes. 'You'll be Master Archer.'
    'Aye. Call me Owen, if you will. I trust I'll be with you awhile.'
    Tom put down the bucket and went over to fill a tankard with ale. Setting it down in front of Owen, he stood back, arms folded. 'Go on. Taste ale. See if it's not better than any in London.'
    Owen took a good long drink, then set the tankard down with a hearty thud. He nodded, smiled. 'I'd heard tales of York Tavern ale, but none did it justice.' He meant it.
    Tom nodded and went out.
    A young woman brought the food. Bess followed close behind. 'Go on now, Kit, have your meal in the back.' The girl scuttled out.
    Owen ate the stew with relish. All the while Bess hovered nearby, moving benches, fussing with cob webs. He finished, downed the rest of the ale, and pushed the bench away from the table.
    'You've made a fast friend, praising his ale so high’ Bess said.
    'I like to give praise where it's due. I've never had better inn fare. The stew was fit for a lord's table. Archers, even captains of archers, do not often partake of such fare.'
    The herbs and some of the vegetables are from the Wilton garden. Nicholas has always been generous with me.'
    'He's the apothecary?'
    'Aye. Round the corner on Davygate.'
    'A good apothecary?'
    Bess sniffed. 'The best in the North Country.'
    Owen noted the qualifier. Not the kingdom, but the North Country. Not an exaggerator. She did not claim there were none better even in London.
    'I need a salve for the eye.'
    A mischievous grin lit Bess's face. 'They'll fix you up.'
    'Why do you smile?'
    Bess shrugged. ' 'Tis nothing. I think of a dozen things at once.'
    The sly gleam in her eye made Owen uneasy. He had to be careful. 'Now let me give you the fortnight's rent before I explore the city.'
    Bess tucked the money in her apron pocket and smiled to herself. It would not be a bad thing for Lucie to encounter a charming rogue. Have an adventure while her ageing, ailing husband was abed. It would warm Lucie's blood, fortify her for the times ahead. Bess knew that Lucie Wilton would catch Owen Archer's eye. She was fair, straight-backed, slender, with clear blue eyes and an engaging smile - a smile seen too seldom these days.
    Owen reminded Bess of her first husband, Will, a clerk in Scarborough with an eye for the girls. Bess had snared Will with her coppery curls and bold tongue. It was Will had taught her to read and write. Bright Will. Handsome Will.
    Bess knew what it was like to nurse a dying husband and fear for the future. She had buried two husbands, both beloved. The fathers of her children. Poor Lucie did not even have the comfort of children.
    Owen Archer might be just the man to lift Lucie's spirits.
    But the timing of his arrival disturbed Bess. He suited the Wiltons' needs too well.
    Owen did not mean to chat with the apothecary, merely to meet him and get a sense of the man. The door of the apothecary was ajar.
    A woman stood behind the counter, measuring pow der into a pouch for a customer who paced back and forth, complaining about the weather. The customer was well dressed, though his speech had the rough edges of the North Country. Most likely a merchant. He did not seem at all put out about being helped by a young woman