Easton's Gold Read Online Free PDF

seen Maria talk more than a few words to Jacques, although she always laughs at his jokes, even the ones that aren’t at all funny. Maria’s potential as an audience is not lost upon Jacques; he always catches her eye whenever he says anything that he imagines is witty. But whether he has any idea of the single-minded energy of Maria’s devotion, Gabrielle has no idea.
    Today Jacques is in no mood for joking. He sees Philippa nudge Maria under the table and Maria blush. He makes a grunting sound and mutters something which includes: “silly women…haven’t got enough work to do…” before clearing his own place from the table and leaving the room. Philippa and Maria start giggling again. Hearing this, Jacques pokes his head around the door and snaps, “Maria, you need to get to the butcher right away. We are out of pork.”
    Maria scuttles out of the room, as happy as if this were a declaration of undying love.
    Gabrielle and Philippa are left on their own. Philippa stares at the unfinished bread on Maria’s plate as though willing her friend’s return. Gabrielle thinks of clearing her place straightaway but knows it will seem too pointed. Both of them remain seated and very still. Finally Gabrielle can bear it no longer.
    â€œPhilippa,” she says suddenly, startling herself as well as Philippa. It could well be the first time she has ever used her fellow servant’s name. “I’m sorry I pulled your hair so hard last night.”
    The air feels like shattered glass, the silence astounding. Philippa doesn’t say anything, but Gabrielle can hear her breathing. She watches while Philippa, still staring at the table, turns beet red. In another moment, her gaze flickers toward Gabrielle. There are tears in her eyes.
    Gabrielle feels utterly bewildered.
How did I reach such a state of intimacy with this strange person?
    Philippa looks down at the table again. “It doesn’t matter,” she says quietly. Then, slowly, she stands, takes her breakfast plate over to the kitchen stand and starts wiping it clean.
    The city is alive with constant motion when Gabrielle steps into the street. Everything is in transit: tradesmen, carts, barrels and boxes, donkeys and full-size workhorses, their iron shoes clanking hard on the cobbles. There is a chill in the air, but the sky is clear. Gabrielle feels the kiss of the sun on her forehead as she skips past the reaching hand of an urchin. She dodges in and out of the crowd as she turns into the apothecary’s lane. Was it really him she saw last night, she wonders, thinking of the lone man in a punt, staring at the house at sunset. She would never have put money on his identity, yet she is not mistaken that the man, whoever it was, ducked under the rim of his boat very suddenly and, it seemed, in reaction to her own appearance at the window.
    Gabrielle comes to the door, smiling to herself. She hesitates, then she pushes it open. A small bell rings as she does so. The place is empty and dim, but in a moment Fleet emerges from a shadowy staircase descending into the shop. Peering toward the entrance, he seems to brighten when he sees her. Gabrielle notices that tucked under his arm is the skull she examined yesterday. Fleet strides toward the shelf, giving Gabrielle a tight, embarrassed smile as he lays the skull in its former place.
    â€œHow was it?” he asks gently, turning to her again. There is a warmth in his voice that catches Gabrielle by surprise. It is as though their conversation has not left off from the previous day.
    â€œHe is much improved, but I would like some more.”
    Before she has finished speaking, Fleet has gone behind the counter and is pulling out the drawer.
    â€œWell, now we know it agrees with him,” he says, taking a larger cloth than last time and laying it on the counter, “we’ll give him a higher dose.”
    Gabrielle nods agreement, but he isn’t looking.