The Apothecary's Daughter (19 page)

But he doesn’t know it all, Lilly thought, or he might care a great
deal.

“I like you as you are, Miss Haswell. So free from all the snobbery
and airs of my set.” He grinned. “And not a trial to look at either.”

Her heart momentarily surged, but then she thought of her unspoken secrets, and his unresolved feelings for another. She smiled gently.
“Mr. Bromley, thank you. But you said it yourself. You like me. And
certainly I like you. But there is another, I think, whom you love.”

“Miss Whittier, you mean?”

She nodded. “You cannot deny it. Your face gives you away whenever you look at her.”

He grimaced. “But she will never accept me. She has already said
as much.”

“She might. You mustn’t give up hope. She hasn’t married anyone
else, has she?”

He all but groaned, “No.”

“You are a true gentleman, Mr. Bromley. Any woman would be
blessed to own your heart.”

“Miss Whittier would not agree with you.”

“At least not yet.”

She squeezed his hand before extracting her own. “Perhaps there
is something we can do to help things along.”

The recipient paid dearly … there was a fourpenny charge
for the typical letter consisting of one large sheet of paper
folded several times and sealed with wax.

-SHARON LAUDERMILK AND TERESA HAMLIN, THE REGENCY COMPANION

er uncle came into the library the following Monday and sat in
-the chair opposite her. His shoulders were hunched, elbows on
his knees, and his face was wrinkled in deep thought.

She lowered The Family Robinson Crusoe, which she had acquired
from the nearby circulating library, and steeled herself for another
reprisal of Saturday night’s failures.

For several moments, he seemed to study his clenched hands.
“Lillian, when we spoke about the necklace, you made it clear you
would like to know everything possible about your mother, even if it
were … unpleasant?”

“Yes.” Lilly leaned forward. “Have you heard something? Did
she contact you again?”

He shook his head. “What I have to tell you happened some three
years ago now.” He held up his hand, forestalling her protest before it could form. “I know but until the business with the necklace I never
considered telling you.”

He met her eyes directly. “I told you the truth, my dear. Your
mother came to see me only that one time, but-“

“She wrote to you?”

“No, Lillian. If I had a letter from her in my possession I would
not keep it from you. She did not write to me, but I did receive a letter
concerning her. That is, concerning lodgings she was hoping to let. The
landlord required a reference, and she must have given my name.”

“Did you supply a reference?”

“I did. I made it clear I had no knowledge of her recent occupation
or conduct, but that in her younger days she was a good girl from a
respectable family.”

“And that was all? “

He shrugged. “I assume she secured the lodgings but, of course,
had no way of knowing.”

“Have you the address of these lodgings?” Lilly’s voice rose in
excitement.

“I am getting to that, my dear. Before I brought this to your attention, I thought I had better see if I still had the letter. I could not find
it, but my clerk did find, in an old ledger, a listing of the postage he
paid to receive the reference request.”

He handed her a slip of paper. “The street name and number of
the lodging house.”

Lilly stared down at the few numbers and words inked on the
page in her uncle’s small precise hand.

Her own hand trembled and her heart pounded. Could she really
go and knock on her mother’s door? Pay a call as to an old friend?
Would she even be received? Her hand began perspiring at the thought
of it, and she laid the paper on the table to keep from spoiling it.

“Will you go with me?” she asked in a voice she barely recognized-the voice of a very young girl.

The address was in a court off Fleet Street, in an area of narrow,
modest houses.

Her uncle used his umbrella handle to rap on the door, as if he
feared touching the surface would soil his gloves. Lilly held her breath.
After a few tense moments, the door opened and a woman with silverstreaked black hair answered, dressed in a gown that had once been
fine but appeared to Lilly to be nearly a decade out of fashion.

“Yes?”

“Good day, madam. We are looking for a lodger of yours, a Mrs.
Rosamond Haswell?”

“No one ‘ere by that name.”

“Perhaps she used her maiden name, Elliott?”

“Look, this ain’t no tenement slum, mind. We just has the one
lodger at a time, see, in the rooms upstairs. Helps us live comfortable,
now the children are gone.”

“I understand, but you wrote to me and asked for a reference for
Rosamond-“

“Oh, mayhap you mean Rosa? She is long gone. It’s Tommy Baker
now.

Rosa? Disappointment tinged with relief washed over Lilly. “How
long ago did she leave? “

“Must be above two years now. Maybe more. Couldn’t keep up
with the rent, see. She took in pupils while she were here merchants’
daughters and the like but the pay weren’t much. She ain’t in any
trouble, is she?”

“Not that we are aware of. Do you know where she went? “

“Heavens no.” The woman’s brow wrinkled. “She got herself
married, I believe. To some officer, I think it were.”

Married? Then it cannot be her. Can it?

“This husband of hers,” her uncle asked through gritted teeth.
“Do you recall his surname?”

“I’m lucky to recall what I ‘ad for tea, let alone something what
happened years ago.”

“Was it Quincy, perhaps?” Lilly asked, avoiding her uncle’s
startled look.

The woman’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Don’t ring no bells, no.”

“Here is my card,” Uncle Elliott said. “Should something come
to you, please send word. I shall reimburse you for your trouble.”

Lilly thought the woman’s murmur of agreement lacked
conviction.

As they walked away, Lilly’s mind was reeling. Her mother,
“married” to another man? She could not credit it. Her uncle strode
stiffly at her side, face grim. If this was difficult for her to believe,
what a blow it must be for a man such as he to learn that his sister
may have sunk so low.

“Perhaps the woman had it wrong,” Lilly began. “She said it herself, she has a poor memory. Perhaps `Rosa’ wasn’t Mother at all.”

He shook his head. “Do you now see why I was reluctant to come?
Why I have avoided involving your aunt in these affairs?”

“I do see. Still, I am thankful to you. Painful as it was.”

“Shall we speak of it no further?”

“Very well.”

His eyes fixed on a shop across the street. “I know. Let us stop in
that library there. I think you’ve read every novel in the one near us. A
new book might be just the diversion we need after today’s errand.”

Lilly nodded her agreement. She already had a new book but could
always use another. She gathered her uncle needed this diversion as
much as she did.

He opened the door for her and she stepped inside. The lofty room
was filled floor to ceiling with books. This library was not as elegant
as the one they frequented, but it certainly held a wide selection.

In her peripheral vision, she saw a clerk hail her. “Mrs. Wells!
How good to- Oh, forgive me.” The thin young man faltered. “I
thought you were someone else.”

Lilly was instantly alert. “Who? ” she prompted. “A Mrs. Wells,
I believe you said?” Who was Wells?

He shook his head, bemused. “You do look a great deal like her.
Henry?” he called to an associate who stood on a rolling ladder, replacing a book on a high shelf. “Come here, man.”

The second clerk, somewhat older and rounder, clambered down
and joined them.

“Does this lady not look a great deal like our friend Mrs. Wells? ”
the first asked.

“Indeed she does. Though younger to be sure.”

Lilly met her uncle’s gaze.

“Haven’t seen that lady in some time, though,” Henry said. “Have
you?”

“No. Must be above a half year since I saw her. Thank you,
Henry.”

The second clerk returned to the shelves, and her uncle excused
himself to peruse the history section.

“Now.” The first clerk rubbed his palms together. “Is there something I can help you find, miss?”

Curious, Lilly asked, “What would your Mrs. Wells want?”

The young clerk thought. “Fanny Burney is a favorite of hers.
Though she has also borrowed every volume of Scott and Coleridge
we’ve had in. Never knew a keener reader. I believe she is a schoolmistress of some sort.”

“And have you records of what she last read?”

He looked at her, clearly perplexed. “We have records, of course,
but-“

Embarrassed, Lilly said quickly, “Never mind. I only thought
that since I favoured her in appearance, I might enjoy reading what
she did. That is all.” She laughed sheepishly.

“Well, normally our records are private. But I do not see any
harm in this case.” He crooked a finger, and she followed him to the
center desk. There he opened a wooden file box and walked his fingers
through the cards inside. “Here she is. Last borrowed Fanny Burney’s
The Wanderer.”

How apt, Lilly thought. “Well then, I shall have the same if I
might.”

The clerk was still skimming the card. “Oh dear, an outstanding
balance of two p-“

Lilly lifted her reticule. “Allow me.”

“No, miss, there’s no need.”

“Yes there is. It is the least I can do for her excellent book recommendation.”

He dipped his chin in acquiescence. “That is very kind. When I
see Mrs. Wells, whom shall I name as her benefactor?”

Lilly paused. It seemed unlikely Mrs. Wells, her mother or not,
would return here, but even so, she hesitated. “You needn’t say at
all.”

Her uncle reappeared beside her. “There you are, Lillian. Are
you ready?”

The clerk grinned and made a note on the card.

“Actually, I have thought of one more thing,” Lilly said. “Have
you Steele’s Navy Lists?”

The clerk’s eyes widened. “Why, yes. The new one for this quarter
has just arrived. Do you know, Mrs. Wells often had a look at those
as well.”

“Did she indeed?” Lilly was struck by the coincidence, if
coincidence it was. “Do you keep older editions as well? From five or
so years past?”

“I am afraid not. Only the most current editions. And here it is.”
He handed her the slim volume.

“Thank you. I shall borrow that as well.”

Her uncle’s eyebrows rose, but Lilly did not explain.

Men have the sword, women have the fan,
and the fan is probably as effective a weapon!

JOSEPH ADDISON, EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLISH WRITER

illy was surprised when Dr. Graves paid a call a few days later.
~ I She had not expected him after their less-than-cordial parting.
Her aunt was breakfasting in her own room, so Lilly was alone in the
sitting room when Fletcher announced that a Dr. Graves was at the
door. She was tempted to utter the socially acceptable prevarication
“I am not at home at present” but could not bring herself to do so.
While she dreaded seeing him again, she had lied more than enough
to the man, even if in omission.