The Apothecary's Daughter (25 page)

He looked at her sharply.

“The bottles. I am ashamed to admit, but I at first believed you
were foxed. And I doubt I am the only person in the village to think
so.

“When have you ever known me to drink more than an occasional
glass of port?”

“Never before. But a great deal has changed since I’ve been
away.

He looked away from her, shaking his head despondently.

“What is it, Father? Do you know?”

“No. Some days I am nearly myself, and others I can barely rise.
The latter have become frightfully frequent. But I know I have only
to come up with the correct combination of herbs and elixirs, and I
shall conquer this thing.”

“Without a diagnosis? When have you ever been successful treating an illness that way?”

“Rarely, but it does happen. Sometimes we are not sure what the
underlying problem is, but we stumble upon a remedy after much
trial and error.”

“But this is foolishness! When you have not even consulted with
another medical man. Let me send for Dr. Foster.”

“That man! He would be the last I would crawl to for advice. He
would waste no time advertising my weakness and failure that I
can tell you.”

She knew old Dr. Foster had often resented her father for visiting
and treating his patients. But bad blood notwithstanding, he was a
professional, was he not?

“Mr. Shuttleworth, then.”

“My new competitor? Shall I help him drive me from business
once and for all? Shall I hand him the shovel to bury me?”

“I have met the man. He seems very decent. Besides, he is a fellow
apothecary. He spent several months with the Worshipful Society,
just as you did.”

“I spent nearly two years there, between my time with the society
and my summer working in the apothecaries’ garden. Several months
indeed.”

“Father, please. I insist you see a doctor. If you refuse the two at
hand, then I shall … I shall write to my uncle and ask him to bring
a man from London.”

“Your uncle? Who already believes me a useless failure? I’ll not
prove him right.”

“You are not useless. Merely ill.”

“Same thing.”

“It isn’t! Now, Father, I insist “

He pinned her with an ice-blue gaze. “I am afraid, lass, that you
have no right to insist upon anything.”

“Do I not?” she asked, refusing to be cowed. “Is my father not
acting irrationally? Damaging himself and his beloved shop, passed down from father and grandfather before him? A shop he would once
have done anything to protect?”

“I am trying to protect it!”

“No, you are trying to protect your pride. And it is too late for
that. I am calling for Dr. Foster or Mr. Shuttleworth-you have your
choice.”

“Just … just give me a little more time. I know I can get back on
my feet. Just another month. By then I shall figure out what treatment
I’ve overlooked…”

“Two days.”

“A fortnight.”

“A week and no longer.”

He sighed. “Very well.”

“Good,” she said briskly. But she wondered if they had that
long.

J. @ A. PEPLER, beg respectfully to inform the Ladies of DEVIZES
and its vicinity that J.P. is returned from London,
where she has selected a choice assortment of
MILLINERY DRESSES, Straws, @ Fancy Bonnets.

DEVIZES @ WILTSHIRE GAZETTE, 1833

n the morning, Lilly was just making up a breakfast tray for her
.-father when a rap on the shop door startled her, causing her to spill
hot tea on her hand. Blowing on the scorched skin, she walked from the
laboratory-kitchen through the shop. She was surprised to see Francis at
the door. She opened it and saw that he carried a crate in his hands.

“This is heavy. Might I … ?

“Of course. Come in.”

He carried the crate back and settled it gently on the counter.

“What is this?” she asked, eyeing the array of jars and packets.

“Bare basics. Hopefully enough to keep you going here until you
can place and receive an order.”

“But … how?”

“I made a second list for myself when I completed that inventory
for you. I pulled this from Mr. Shuttleworth’s stock.”

“But we cannot accept this.”

“This is not charity, Miss Haswell. It has all been accounted for.
You will pay it back as you can.”

“But I won’t …” Why could she not finish the sentence, I won’t
be here? Dread and cold realization sifted through her. Orders to
place, debts to pay, a shop to repair … but what of her plans for a
stay of only a fortnight?

“Of course I shall see you are repaid,” she said officiously. “Thank
you.” She turned abruptly and retreated to the laboratory-kitchen so
he would not see her brave face fall.

The next day, Lilly and Charlie attended services together. How
inviting the church looked that bright morning, sunshine streaming
through colorful stained-glass windows, candles lit, happy voices filling the chapel. It felt good to be there, sitting in her old place, listening
to the fine Kentish voice of Mr. Baisley.

During the singing of a hymn, Lilly was distracted by a deep male
voice coming from somewhere nearby. The pleasing baritone filled
in the reedy melody carried by so many women and old men. Lilly
glanced discreetly over her shoulder and was surprised to see Francis
Baylor two rows behind her, eyes on the vicar, singing intently and
with feeling. His voice has changed as well.

After the service, many villagers made a point of coming over to
greet Lilly and to welcome her home.

Undeniably handsome in his Sunday coat, Francis bowed briefly
to her. “Miss Haswell. Charlie.” He would have turned away without
lingering had Charlie not called after him.

“I saw her again today, Francis.”

Francis paused. “Who the red-haired angel?”

My hair is not red, Lilly thought automatically. Russet brown or
even ginger the tawny brown spice but not red. A moment later
her cheeks were no doubt the very color she despised, for they were
not speaking of her at all.

Charlie nodded. “Up early she were. I hoped maybe she were
coming here.”

“Ah well. Plenty of other angels about the place, Charlie.”

Francis did not walk out with them but instead turned to greet
Miss Robbins and her parents.

Once outside, Charlie put on a dingy hat. “I’d better to get back
to Marlow House.”

“Charlie, wait. Sit for a minute, will you?”

He hesitated but allowed her to lead him to a bench in the churchyard and sat down beside her.

She asked, “Do you not wish to return home and help Father
and me? “

He shrugged.

“What is it, Charlie? Are you afraid? Has someone at Marlow House
frightened you?” She resisted the urge to put her arms around him, to
protect him from would-be bullies, as she had when he was a child.

“No. I like it ‘ere, I do. Mr. Timms is a bit gruff, but I am learning
ever so much from him.”

“But Father needs you. You do want to help Father, don’t you?”

“I do. But-” Charlie lowered his head. His wrists protruded from
the sleeves of his old Sunday coat. Just as his ankles showed between
trousers and boots. An overgrown little boy. But this streak of stubbornness was something new.

She forced a gentle tone. “I shall speak to Sir Henry, shall I? And
explain?”

Again he shrugged. “He won’t like it. And I don’t like to break
my word.”

She hesitated. “You’ve an official agreement, then? A contract of
some sort?”

“I’m an apprentice now, I am. Like Francis were.” He sat up a
little straighter, clearly proud of the fact.

Oh dear. That did complicate things.

She asked Charlie to come home for tea at least. He agreed, but
as soon as they entered through the garden gate, he was distracted by a new hornets’ nest hanging from the eaves near the back door. And
there he sat. Lilly knew better than to try to cajole him while he was
counting, especially objects in flight. She sighed. Maybe it was just
as well. She could speak to Father alone first.

Over tea, she asked her father about Charlie’s position.

Her father nodded. “I’d heard they were looking for a lad. Told
Charlie he might try for it.”

“But why? “

“I haven’t been able to look after him properly, Lilly. Shames me
to say it, but there it is.” He rubbed a hand over his whiskered cheeks.
“At least there I knew he’d not be wandering about the county, getting
himself in some scrape or other with his strange ways and spying and
I know not what.”

“He does not mean to spy.”

He waved her words away. “I know, but it does look it. Bedsley
Priors has changed, Lilly. Lots of new people have moved here, some
of them quite rough. Most don’t know how harmless Charlie is. He
might be caught eavesdropping on some shady affair and pay a high
price for it. I don’t so much mind if they say he’s off in his attic, but I
could not bear to see any harm come to the boy.”

“Of course not.”

“At least at Marlow House he’s kept busy. And has regular meals,
which is more than I can say here.”

She pushed his plate of bread and jam nearer to him. “Go on.”

He bit off a small morsel. “Mr. Timms took him on as an apprentice of sorts. Marlow waived the apprenticeship fee, in lieu of wages.
Though he’ll start earning after six months’ time, and it’s been nearly
three already.”

“But surely now-“

“I’d hate for him to break the contract. No telling what young
Marlow might say to that. Might demand the forfeited apprenticeship fee since Charlie didn’t earn out his service, at least some settling
up for room and board. It isn’t done, Lilly. It would look very bad if
Charlie quit, especially without proper notice.”

“But, perhaps if I talked with him.”

“You are going to talk sense to Roderick Marlow?”

“I meant Sir Henry.”

“He leaves all of that to his son.” He lifted his cup with a shaky
hand. “Sir Henry is in better health than I am at present. But during
his last illness he gave up the running of things. Roderick Marlow is
master of the estate for all intents and purposes.”

“Well, even he can’t be devoid of all natural feeling. Once I explain
the situation.”

“And exactly how will you explain the situation?”

“With great tact and discretion you may depend upon it.”

He shook his head. “I have no doubt you learned a fair dose of
that in London, my dear. Go on then, but don’t take it to heart if he
isn’t swayed.”

She found Charlie still sitting beside the back door. “Charlie, I am
going to see Mr. Marlow in a few minutes. See if we cannot work out some
arrangement for a leave for you. Can you harness the gig, please?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “All right.”

She stepped quickly across the mews to the coffeehouse. Mrs.
Mimpurse and Mary were at the small kitchen table, enjoying a rare
time of idle talk over tea.

“Mrs. Mimpurse, I’m riding out to Marlow House to see about
getting Charlie released from his contract. Can you stop by and check
on Father in the next hour or so? I shouldn’t be gone long.”