Free Season of the Fox (A Servant of the Crown Mystery Book 2) by Denise Domning Page B

others of the royal court saw our work, they weren’t just from our queen. Before long, our old master owned the fields in which the flax was grown, the looms in which the threads were woven, and the pots in which the finished fabric and our threads were bleached so Stanrudde’s dyers could give them the most fashionable hues.
    “Thus did the growing and processing of flax into linen, and the preparation of linen fabric for our handiwork become the trades that the old master taught to those of his apprentices who stayed after the change. All his journeymen left to find new masters, not caring for, or perhaps not seeing the advantage for themselves in our strange new trade. Meanwhile, Mistress Elinor began training her own apprentices, including me. She liked my use of colors,” Nanette added, her gaze softening and filling with fondness for her former mistress.
    “The others call you ‘mistress,’ but if that is your proper title, why do you yet remain in the house?” Faucon asked, more from curiosity than any need to probe. Just as he had been granted the right to call himself ‘knight’ instead of ‘squire’ after his ceremony, journeymen couldn’t be called ‘master’ until they’d been judged competent in their skills by their peers.
    Nanette looked at him as if his question surprised her. “They name me so because I have earned that title. I completed my masterwork, one that fetched me a pretty penny, too.”
    “Then, why haven’t you left to form your own house?” he persisted in confusion.
    That made her laugh again. It was the sound of a woman well-pleased with her life. “Form my own house? Where would I put such a house? Nor do I have an interest in any other sort of commerce. Nay, there are only a very few who can afford to buy what I and the other women in this house have learned to make. I know well what my talents are and they don’t include dealing with the sort of fine folk who buy our wares. That was the skill the old master discovered and nurtured in Master Bernart, and why the master married him to Mistress Alina. Master Bernart knows...” she paused to sigh, her eyes suddenly glistening.
    If the manservants of the house resented their master, it seemed that wasn’t the case for the women here. She cleared her throat and began again.
    “The master always knew just what to say to please bishop and baron alike. It’s a skill that he passed on to his daughter. Although,” she paused, then sighed again.
    “Although?” Faucon asked, daring to pry where he had no right. But her tale stirred more questions than it answered.
    “Although Mistress Gisla is a woman,” Nanette finished with a shrug. “I wonder how well the high and mighty will like trading coins with her instead of the master they expect. Despite what skills we might have in our trade, men expect to deal with other men when they make a purchase, especially one as costly as those made here. What a pity none of the master’s sons survived.”
    “Such is the world in which we live,” Faucon said.
    She nodded at that. “And that is why I’m content to serve out my days here, saving what I earn for that time when my fingers are no longer nimble enough to ply my needle. Meanwhile, I happily train Mistress Alina’s apprentices so that they can do what I have–support their families as they claim a life far easier than they ever expected to own.”
    Then, restoring the cobwebs to her memories, she started past Faucon toward the door on the opposite side of the landing. Her expression remained amused, as if she yet laughed inwardly at the idea of owning her own trade. “Come with me, sir,” she said, already starting through the opening, “and ask your questions of our mistress.”
    The chamber beyond the door was the mirror image of the hall, lined with columns and bays, each bay set with a tall window, but the shutters were closed, leaving the room cloaked in shadows. Enough light streamed in through the open door