Alkelda's young face had grown so hard. She had Hugh's look, with those broad Saxon cheekbones, but there was no longer any girlish bloom. She was twenty-two now, ten years a city dweller, who labored in a shop from dawn to dusk. She’d grown plump and pale, like a partridge raised in a cage.
"I have come to ask your blessing, Mother." She held her head high, and studied me as I sat, spinning before my hearth.
"You will do whatever it is with or without my blessing, but say on."
"I am to marry Robert Fuller, head clerk in the counting house Master Wilfred goes to. Robert is a widower of thirty-two with a twelve year old son just apprenticed away. Five clerks are in his charge, and he earns sufficient to keep a house on the Silversmith’s street."
I had expected some such. Horse sense was her banner.
"I have a letter from my Master Wilfred, written to you."
I conned the letter slowly. Reading was not something I often did anymore. At last, because I did not want her to see how hard it was for me, I said, "I'm certain your father would have been well-pleased, as Master Wilfred says this is good match. If you are marrying this Robert Fuller of your own free will, I freely give my blessing."
"Don’t you approve?" Her strong jaw jutted.
Ah, my Alkelda! Always looking for a fight! She was my strong-willed daughter through and through, although she'd die rather than admit it.
"Liking is for you, daughter, not for me."
"You have an opinion." She raised her voice. "Speak plain, Mother."
"An’ you wish it."
"I do."
"Then I say this is a good marriage. However, I must also say that the heart often regrets decisions made by the head alone."
She must have been waiting for this for immediately she shot back, "In this family we have a tradition of making prudent marriages, do we not, Mother?"
She was quite correct. My mother and Master Whitby, myself and Hugh, we had done what we must, what made sense, in order to live and raise children.
We gazed into each other's eyes. I tried to send my love to her. She was so hard, still young, so certain of herself and her ability to stay whatever course she set. Taking her hands between mine—hers soft and stained with ink— I declared, "I bestow a mother's blessing upon my very dear daughter Alkelda. I commend her to the care of The Blessed Queen of Heaven, to the guidance of her holy name saint and all the angels. May they always watch over you, and send you wisdom for each and every decision you make."
Alkelda lowered her capped head and closed her eyes to receive my words. When she opened them, I saw tears. Casting my arms around her, I drew her to my bosom. When she let me, I felt as if a hole in my heart closed. It is a bitter thing to be estranged from a child!
It wouldn’t last, for we lived far apart, but the closeness she had briefly permitted was sufficient for my happiness.
"Thank you for your blessing, Mother." She put on her stern face again, as if she'd gone further in reconciliation than she'd ever intended.
"Your coming here has been my blessing. If ever you need aught from your mother, you have but to ask."