Chapter 15: The Cell

The Treasury gaol smelled of damp straw and cold tallow.

Roland sat on a plank bed in the last cell, with his coat gone and a week of beard on his face.

He stood up when he saw me, and for a moment he looked glad.

"Lydia. You came."

"I came to ask you one thing."

The gaoler stood at the end of the passage with his keys in his hand.

He was an old man with a lantern, and he made no pretence of not listening.

I took the letter from my sleeve and held it up to the bars.

Roland read the first line, and the color left his face.

"Where did you get that?"

"Pellin Row. Under the drawer, tied in green ribbon."

"Lydia, I can explain."

"Then explain it to him." I tilted my head at the gaoler. "He is a King's officer, and he is standing there."

Roland looked at the old man, then at me.

His hands opened and closed on the bars.

"She picked you," he said, in a low voice. "That is all. She told me what sort of woman to look for, and I looked."

"For what sort?"

"One who made her own medicine. One whose father had ships and no sense of a ledger." He swallowed. "I did not ask her why."

"You did not ask why a viscount's wife wanted you married to a woman who mixed her own bottles."

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