The Painter's Apprentice by Charlotte Betts Page A

Morley.’
    Mistress Morley watched the Bishop leave, her plump chin trembling a little.
    The others at the table dispersed to follow their various pursuits, leaving Beth to entertain the new guest.
    ‘Shall I take you on a tour of Merryfields, Mistress Morley?’
    Anne Morley bit her lip. ‘Perhaps later.’
    ‘Or would you like to retire to your bedchamber to rest a little?’
    A shake of the head.
    Beth gave her a friendly smile, wondering how she was going to manage time spent in the other woman’s company if she rarely
     spoke. ‘We have prepared a private sitting room for you. Of course, you are welcome to mingle with the other guests if you
     prefer but Bishop Compton thought you would like to be secluded.’
    ‘I should like to sit quietly for a while.’
    Groaning to herself, Beth kept up a flow of bright but unanswered conversation while they walked to the little parlour. The
     manservant followed at a discreet distance.
    ‘Here we are!’ Beth said. She opened the door to a pretty room lined with oak panelling and a cheerful blaze dancing in the
     grate. A cushioned seat built beneath the window overlooked the knot garden. Mistress Morley looked around her. ‘It will do
     very well.’
    Beth stood awkwardly in the doorway. ‘Is there something I can bring you? We have a good library or perhaps you would like
     to play a hand of cards?’
    ‘No, thank you.’ Mistress Morley sat down in front of the fire and folded her hands in her lap.
    ‘Shall I leave you or—’
    ‘No!’ Mistress Morley looked up quickly, her expression anxious. ‘Don’t go!’
    ‘Of course I’ll stay, if you wish it.’ Beth sat down on the edge of the other chair. This was going to be much harder than
     she had expected.
    The silence stretched into minutes while Beth struggled to find something to say.
    ‘My mother has put some lavender oil in your bedchamber for you,’ she said at last, in some desperation. ‘It’s made to her
     own recipe and is very good for headaches if you suffer in that way.’
    ‘Yes, she told me.’ Mistress Morley pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
    ‘I’m chattering too much. I can see that you’re unhappy and I don’t know what to say to help.’
    ‘No one can help.’
    Beth chose her words carefully. ‘We have had a great number of guests here at Merryfields over the years. Almost all of them,
     in time, do recover their spirits.’
    ‘It is true that I have been in low spirits lately.’ Her voice quavered and her hands restlessly pleated the handkerchief
     on her lap.
    ‘Would it help to talk about your troubles?’
    Mistress Morley shrugged. ‘Nothing can change how things are.’
    ‘I know that you have suffered terrible losses,’ prompted Beth.
    ‘Do you have children?’
    Beth shook her head.
    ‘Then you cannot know how sharp is the pain I carry in my heart. Mary and Sophia were everything to me. And I lost all the
     others even before they took their first breaths.’
    ‘Every child is irreplaceable but perhaps, in time, another little one would help to assuage your grief?’
    ‘If I am ever able to give birth to another baby. I begin to doubt myself.’ She broke off, her face twisting in anguish and
     great tears rolling in fat drops down her cheeks.
    ‘Oh, please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to distress you!’ Beth leaned forward to clasp the poor girl’s hands.
    Anne Morley collapsed into racking sobs.
    Helplessly, Beth rocked her against her shoulder.
    When at last the storm of weeping subsided Beth stroked the dark hair off Mistress Morley’s forehead and proffered her handkerchief.
    ‘Forgive me,’ the guest sniffed.
    ‘There is nothing to forgive. You have a great deal to be sad about. Tell me about your husband. Is he a comfort to you?’
    ‘George?’ Mistress Morley’s lips hovered on the brink of a smile. ‘George is a kind husband and has never blamed me for not
     providing him with an heir.’
    ‘I should think not,