Salt & Broom by Sharon Lynn Fisher EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:Sharon Lynn Fisher
- Language: English
- Genre:Historical Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The Letter
Lowood School, North of England—October 11, 1847
“Miss Aire.”
It was a fine October day, the sun bright and warm, sky crisply blue,
and a snap in the air that roused both mind and body. For this reason, the
door to my apothecary stood half-open, letting in the fresh breeze off the
herb garden—and also allowing Mr. Brocklehurst to steal in among us.
Slowly, I let my hand fall to my side, hoping the poppet I held would
be concealed by my skirts.
“Sir?” I replied faintly.
Lowood School’s trustee and superintendent, a fingernail-thin shade of
a man, moved fully into the room. My six students also held poppets, all in
various stages of completion—some armless or eyeless, others naked or
bald. The girls stared at him wide-eyed, needles held aloft.
I cringed. As Lowood’s mistress of cures, I was tasked with teaching
herb healing and no more. The making of poppets, even if only to be used
for healing spells, would certainly fall into Mr. Brocklehurst’s category of
“infernal witchery.” It was a familiar old hypocrisy. In the burning times,
folk were eager enough to be healed by cunning women, yet sometimes just
as eager to cry “witch” when they needed someone to blame for their
troubles. We thankfully lived in more enlightened times, but those fears still
echoed.
“Come to the house when you’ve finished your lessons,” said
Mr. Brocklehurst.
I swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
He left us, and I let out a breath. The girls eyed each other nervously. I
smiled to reassure them, though my heart was beating fast.
Was this to be my last act of defiance? Was I finally getting the sack?
I moved distractedly through the rest of the class, until finally the girls
collected their things to go. When my younger students arrived for their
instruction, I set them to quizzing each other on the healthful effects of
various kitchen herbs and went to find my mentor, retired Mistress of Cures
Maria Temple.
I didn’t have to go far. She sat on a bench in the herb garden just
outside the old potting shed that served as my home, classroom, and
apothecary, her eyes softly closed and sunlight washing over her face and
neck. Even in this restful pose, she smiled, and it crinkled the corners of her
eyes. Her thick brown hair, streaked with silver, had been pinned back
neatly, but as usual, a few unruly curls had sprung free to frame her cheeks.
Maria was close to Mr. Brocklehurst’s age and still a beauty.
Her smile deepened as I approached. “What a glorious day, Jane.” Her
fingers gently brushed the purple-and-gold blossoms of a bunch of wild
aster that had sprung up next to the bench. I’d been intending to collect and
dry it for salve, but it was so lovely that I kept putting it off.
“Indeed.”
Up to now, she hadn’t opened her eyes, but the hesitation in my voice
drew her gaze. “What has happened?”
I shook my head and moved to sit beside her. “Mr. B walked in on
poppet-making earlier. I’ve been summoned to his lair.”
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