Free Conceit by Mary Novik Page A

sizzle. Often Pegge’s father would be drawn in from the library to inspect the joint. If things were behindhand, he would bluster about, saying he had half a mind to hire a proper cook, but one scowl from Bess would silence him and he would go off with a slice in his hand to tide him over until the meal was ready.
    Pegge knelt beside Bess and snugged up the damp bandage for her. “What was my mother like when she was my age?”
    “More womanly than you.” Bess snorted. “More like Constance and just as useless in the kitchen. At least peel that garlic while you’re talking. Not with that,” she said, as Pegge reached for the straight-blade. “Just crack it with your hands or it’ll take all day. Put some muscle behind it.”
    Sadie came to the doorway, settling down on her paws to watch the joint turning on the spit.
    “You’re an outside dog,” Bess warned, as Sadie crept forward. “You’ll get no food from this kitchen.” Bess snappedher apron to drive the dog back over the threshold, then heaved her feet off the stool. Lifting the carp by its tail, she looked it up and down. “Your mother once saw the Queen in a gown sewn all with mirrors. But she wasn’t full of eggs like this, for she never had a man.” The carp dripped all the way to the table.
    The row of mirrors was now flying off the fish towards Pegge. It was too late to explain how well the scales would have looked on a platter in front of her father. Bess cut off one red fin, then flipped the fish and cut off another, flipping and cutting from belly to back, back to belly until, pinning the head and cutting towards her injured hand in one final, brutal whack , she took off the last fin and the head together, barely missing her thumb. With a chop, the tail flew off, the trimmings fell onto the floor, and the carp lay mirrored in a pool of its own blood.
    The next Pegge knew, Bess was spooning out the roe and the head was trotting out the door in Sadie’s jaws. Sensing something amiss, the dog dropped it in the courtyard and backed away, trying to stare down the bulging eyes. The mouth made a plaintive puk , then the head tipped over and Sadie ran whining to the flower bed.
    Bess stabbed her knife into the table. “I was just a servant, and before I knew a thing, your mother had thrown away her dowry and was no better than a servant herself. That’s love for you, better left to dogs.” She wiped her forehead with a rag. “Stay away from it, Pegge. Let your father find you a husband, like he did for Constance. But first you have to get your monthlies. If you don’t hop to it, little Betty will get them before you.”
    “I wish you wouldn’t talk about it, Bess.” The kitchen was far too hot. The rope of hair was heavy on Pegge’s neck and the smell of the joint was turning her stomach. She shoved the heap of peeled garlic towards Bess and stood up.
    “That’ll never do,” Bess said, pushing her back down. “I’ll need four times that.”
    Pegge went over to the shaving mirror to remove the fish scales that had landed on her face, but one of them began to bleed. “The scales won’t come off.”
    “Come into the light.” Bess pulled Pegge over to the door and tugged her hair to tilt her head back.
    “What is it, Bess?”
    “As if I didn’t have enough trouble. Now you’ve come all over with a blistering rash.” Bess rubbed at Pegge’s cheek with her finger. “It’s your skin itself that’s scaling. Bless you, Pegge Donne, you’ve got the pox. I hope you didn’t catch this from that fisherman of yours.”

    Pegge smelt the carp all through the house, but tasted none of it, for Doctor Foxe forbade strong foods and salt foods and sugary foods and solid foods, confining Pegge to her room so her sisters would not risk disfigurement. Allowed only bread soaked in milk, she concluded that his treatment for every illness was to deprive his patients of all comforts.
    On his way back from a sermon, her father was intercepted by a