“I think I had better discuss this with George first. We agreed to keep our courting a secret and I do not want to go against his wishes.”
“Know that your secret is safe with me, dear friend. But do whatever works for you best.”
“Thank you. I shall speak with him soon and let you know what we decide.”
“And tell him he is a rotten friend for not telling me about you two courting.”
“Oh, he has wanted to tell you so badly. He will be relieved you know now.”
The maid came into the room, exchanged a few whispered words with Willoughby then disappeared.
“Miss Jenny, your garments are dried if you wish to change,” Willoughby said.
“Thank you.” Jenny turned to Helena. “I think I should change and am ready to leave when you are.”
Thomas felt a stab of disappointment when she said that.
“I am ready. I have had my little talk with Thomas and am now anxious to meet with George as soon as possible. I shall send him a note when I get home.”
Jenny stood up, nodded to Thomas, and left the parlor to change.
Chapter 7
One of Jenny’s early morning tasks—even before she started baking—was to go to the market and hunt for fruit for her pies as the vendors arrived from the countryside to set up their stalls.
She quite enjoyed this, as the morning was fresh and the air clear. There was little activity yet in the village, and she would wander with her pushcart to where the market set up and go from farmer to farmer enquiring about what they had to offer that day. She knew all the farmers and their wives by their first names, and they bantered and joked before she finally purchased what she wanted. She was very picky about what she purchased, and the vendors always saved the very best selections for her viewing before they offered them to anyone else. She was everyone’s favorite.
One of her favorite vendors was Steven and Betsy Drake. They were playful and joked freely with Jenny—but they also had some of the finest summer berries in the market. She always made a point of stopping by where they were setting up early in her visit.
“What have you got for me today, Betsy?” Jenny asked as she approached their wagon even before they had set up their stall.
“O-o-o some lovely strawberries—and the blackberries are just coming in. I have a few pails of those. But only a few. Pricy, they are today… but I guess we could give you a break on the price,” Betsy said with a wry smile.
“You better had. I am your very favorite customer, am I not?”
“You would be if you would ever pass some of your day-old biscuits along to us.”
Jenny laughed. “I guess you do not know our bakery then… We always sell out. We have never had any day-old anything… not ever. But I might manage to save a few treats for you for tomorrow morning… if I get all the berries you can spare me this morning.”
“Oh, you drive a hard bargain,” Betsy said, already loading all her berries into the bowls on Jenny’s cart.
“Mother, you missed the gooseberries,” a young man said, coming over with a pail full of the luscious green berries.
“Oh, gooseberry pie is one of my favorites,” Jenny cooed. “I will certainly take those as well.”
The young man emptied the pale into one of Jenny’s buckets and, when he was finished, gave her a happy and welcoming smile.
“You know our boy, Evan, do you not? He’s been apprenticing in Bristol these past few years.”
Jenny was surprised at the handsome boy. He could not have been more than eighteen or so and she tried to remember if she had seen him before, then said, “Evan! Oh my, you have grown into a man. I only remember a scrawny little ragamuffin.”
“And you have grown into a fine young woman,” he replied. “If you do not mind me saying.”
They both laughed as they sized each other up.
“I mind not what you say,” she said with a grin. “As long as I get your best fruit.”
“Not for me to say,” he said. “But I would not mind a walk around the square with you some afternoon after the market. I would like to hear about these pies you make.”
