The Apothecary's Daughter (26 page)

Mrs. Mimpurse looked her up and down. “You are going to
Marlow House dressed like that?”

Lilly glanced down at the plain morning dress she had put on after
church. “It isn’t a social call. I merely wish to discuss business.”

“Do you hope to sway Roderick Marlow with your words alone?”

“Well, yes.”

Mrs. Mimpurse shook her head. “Tut, tut, Miss Lilly. Has your
time in London taught you nothing?”

Two hours later, Lilly stood from her dressing table and pulled on
her gloves. She wore one of her London gowns, a walking dress ofjaconet muslin with lovely pink embroidery up the front and three flounces at
the hem. Over it, she wore a cottage mantle of grey cloth lined with pink
silk to cover the low neckline and provide some protection from the slight
chill in the air. She had hoped to take care of her errand earlier in the
day, but it had taken time to bathe and dress in her petticoat, stockings,
and boned stays. Mary had come over to help tighten the stays and then
remained to dress her hair. Now rich auburn curls showed at one temple
beneath a straw gypsy hat trimmed with ribbon. Mary had wanted her
to wear one boasting fruit or ostrich feathers, but Lilly would have felt
too self-conscious driving through the village in either of those.

“Thank you, Mary.”

“Nervous?”

“Definitely,” Lilly allowed.

“The worst he can do is say no.”

Lilly drew in a breath. “Is it?”

“And who could say no to you, looking as pretty as you do? ” Mary
hesitated, then added gently, “I know you and your father need help,
but it wouldn’t be so bad if Charlie stayed there. I think he likes it.”

“You are trying to comfort me, should I fail, I know. But I worry
for Charlie. Would worry for anyone under such masters.”

“But … Well, never mind,” Mary said and adjusted the curl
nearest Lilly’s cheek one last time.

Lilly descended the stairs and went out the back door, only to see
Charlie sitting in the slanting rays of late afternoon sunlight, much as
she had left him two hours before. She looked out into the mews but
saw no sign of the gig.

“Have you harnessed Pennywort to the gig?”

“Wheel’s broke.”

“Is it?” She bit back her frustration. “But you knew I was hoping
to take it. You might have said so before.”

“You’re only going to Marlows’. ‘Tisn’t far.”

She huffed. “Oh, very well. I shall walk.”

“Shall I come along?” He lurched to his feet. ” ‘Ere’s a pretty red-haired lady about the place now. Wouldn’t mind clapping eyes on
her again. All the lads say she’s Burt handsome. Even Francis.”

Lilly wondered if the red-haired lady was the woman she had seen
with Roderick Marlow in London. “Please stay with Father, Charlie.
If he needs anything, run over and ask Mrs. Mimpurse.”

“All right.” Still, he looked uncomfortable.

“Come on, Charlie,” Mary said, joining them outside and clearly
sensing his unease. “How about a game of draughts before I go?”

Charlie looked up eagerly at this suggestion.

Lilly smiled her gratitude at Mary, then let herself from the gate.

Charlie was correct. Marlow House was not far. She had walked,
even run that distance many times. But never in such fine dress, such
delicate slippers, nor such tight stays.

She walked rather stiffly, hoping her hair, piled high on her head
beneath her hat, would stay within its pins.

She approached Marlow House from the side and stopped abruptly.
There, on the lawn, a man stood as still as a garden statue. She hesitated, then walked a few steps closer, staring at the man whose profile
grew more familiar with each step.

No doubt hearing her footsteps on the gravel path, the man turned
to look in her direction. “I say, you gave me a start.”

Roger Bromley, here? In Bedsley Priors? Though she felt awkward
and uncertain of how he might react to her presence, she was pleased
to see him. She had always liked the man. She smiled at him, cocking
her head to one side. Feeling the weighty crown of curls shift dangerously in that direction, she quickly righted it again.

“Miss Haswell?” Roger Bromley smiled in recognition and
stepped to meet her. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“Nor I you.”

“What a pleasure.” He bowed to her and she curtsied. “I have
just come out for some air and a respite from silly females. I did not
know you were joining the house party.”

“Oh …” she faltered. “I am not. I live here in the village,
that is.”

“That’s right! I’d quite forgotten you were from the same rustic
country as Marlow.”

She took a breath, her anxiety rising at the mention of his name.
Hoping to disguise it, she asked brightly, “Is Christina Price-Winters
here? “

“No. She is busy buying wedding clothes. Engaged herself to
Stanton. Had you not heard?”

Lilly shook her head. She had guessed Christina would not keep in
touch. Still, it hurt that she had not written with such significant news.

“But there are at least two others here of your acquaintance,” Mr.
Bromley continued. “Toby Horton and Miss Whittier.”

“How nice for you.”

Is it? “

“Oh dear. Has she thrown you over again?”

He eyed her wryly. “I would not say that, exactly, but yes, she has
reverted to being quite cold to me.”

“I am sorry to hear it. Perhaps you ought to invent another imminent engagement?” She bit back a smile. “Seemed quite effective the
last time.”

He laughed. “How deliciously forthright you are, Miss Haswell. I
have missed you, though I know I have given little evidence of that.”

“That is all right, Mr. Bromley,” she said, relieved to feel no sting
of regret. “I had no reason to expect correspondence.”

“That’s right, after throwing me over so heartlessly.” He smiled
at her, a teasing light in his eyes.

“Were you going in?” He offered her his arm.

“I do not wish to interrupt.”

“No harm. Dinner will not be served for some time.”

She had just laid her hand on his offered arm when Susan Whittier
stepped out onto the veranda.

“Roger? I wondered where you had gone. Oh. Hello.”

“You remember Miss Haswell, do you not?”

“Yes. How do you do,” the pretty blonde said. “I did not know
you would be joining us.”

“I am not-“

“Miss Haswell is neighbor to Marlow. Why do you think I was
so eager to come to … Where are we again?”

“Bedsley Priors.”

“Bedsley Priors. Charming place.” He winked at Lilly.

“Did you not find him? ” The familiar voice of Roderick Marlow
caused Lilly’s smile to fade. Her heart began to pound uncomfortably
when he strode out onto the veranda in evening dress, his cravat and
dark hair in elegant disarray.

Susan Whittier said, “I did. But he is occupied, as you see, with
your Miss Haswell.”

Marlow turned to stare at her, dark eyebrows rising before lowering
in perplexity … or was it annoyance? Lilly felt her cheeks redden.

“My Miss Haswell?” Mr. Marlow repeated.

“She is your neighbor, is she not?” Miss Whittier all but accused.

He cocked his head, considering. “Well, I suppose she is. Miss
Haswell, what a surprise.” He bowed.

“Forgive me. I did not know you had guests.”

“No matter. I did not mean it was not a pleasant surprise. You are
most welcome. I had forgotten you had friends among us.”

“We enjoy only a limited acquaintance,” Miss Whittier corrected.
“Excuse me. I shall see you at dinner.” At that, the blond woman
turned and marched away.

Laying his hand over hers, Mr. Bromley escorted Lilly onto the
veranda, where Mr. Marlow stood. There, Roger paused to beam
down at her. “Miss Haswell quite broke my heart, Marlow. Did you
not hear of it? She rejected me most cruelly.”

“Did she?” Again Mr. Marlow’s dark eyebrows rose.

Roger sighed dramatically. “Yes. But still, how pleased I am to
see her again.”

Feeling Mr. Marlow’s eyes on her, she rushed to say, “I only wanted to
speak with you for a few moments. I shall come again another time.”

“Nonsense. You must stay,” Roger insisted.

“Yes, of course,” Marlow said politely. “Come, Miss Haswell.”
He gestured toward the door. “Shall we speak in the library? Then
you may rejoin your most ardent admirer.” Marlow cast a shrewd look at Roger Bromley. “Although I had hoped to win back my ten
at whist.”

“Another time, my friend.” Roger grinned. “Who desires gaming
when such beauty is before us?”

Lilly all but rolled her eyes.

“Come, Miss Haswell.” Roderick Marlow opened the door for
her with a flourish, as though welcoming the queen herself. Was he
mocking her?

Once they were closed in the library, Lilly swallowed, wondering
if seeking privacy had been a good idea.

Mr. Marlow remained standing but leaned back, propping himself
against the edge of a massive desk, arms crossed. He dipped his chin,
indicating a chair nearby. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”

She stepped closer but remained standing. “My brother, Charlie.”
When he appeared not to apprehend her meaning, she clarified, “Your
new undergardener? “

“Ah, yes. Stedman mentioned something. In fact, he reported the
lad was working out rather well. Is there a problem?”

“Not a problem, exactly. But while I appreciate the offer of employment for him, Charlie is needed at home at present. Having both of
us gone has left my father shorthanded, and there is much work to
be done.”

“Yes, I had heard something about Haswell’s falling into
disrepair.”

She bit back a defensive rebuttal. He was right, after all, but it hurt
her pride to hear him say it so matter-of-factly. “Yes, well. I understand
you waived an apprenticeship fee, but my brother is very conscientious
and doesn’t want to break his contract, nor hinder his opportunities
for future employment.” She was relieved when he didn’t ask why she
was negotiating on her brother’s behalf. Was he aware of Charlie’s
limitations?

He straightened to his full height and waved her concerns away as
though a midge before his face. “Think no more of it, Miss Haswell.
I understand. I will speak to Stedman and to Timms. Your brother
may return to your father’s shop without worry. He may even have a reference, if you like. And he will be welcomed back here, should the
situation change and he is no longer needed at home.”

She was stunned at how easily it was done. Was he really so kind,
or simply eager to return to his guests? She had certainly asked at an
opportune time.

“Thank you, sir. That is most magnanimous.”

He stepped to the door, opened it, and looked back at her. Her
invitation to leave.

She walked toward him but was surprised when he held out his
arm. She looked up at him in question.

“May I escort you to the dining room?” he asked.

“But I … No. I did not intend nor presume …”

He looked at her closely. “Did you really refuse Roger Bromley?”

She took a deep breath. “I suppose I did. But only because I knew
he loved another.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And you believe people should marry
for love, Miss Haswell? “

“I do not know about all people, but I should.”

“Shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

“Go in to dinner.”

“Oh, of course.” Of course he’d meant dinner, not of course she
would stay for it.

Roger Bromley appeared in the corridor. “Enough village business.
I’d hoped to escort Miss Haswell to the dining room.”

“Too late, Bromley.” Marlow actually took her hand and laid it
on his arm. “I am afraid you shall have to escort Miss Whittier and
her chaperone instead.”

Across the hall, Susan Whittier stood with a faded, weary-faced
woman of fifty or so years. Susan looked rather vexed. “Has everyone
forgotten me? “

“There, there,” Roger soothed, striding across the room and offering his arm. She actually smiled and laid her hand on his sleeve. Roger
looked at Lilly over his shoulder and winked again.

Before she could protest further, Marlow was leading Lilly across
the grand hall.

From above, a flash of green caught her eye. She looked up and
saw a woman gliding down the staircase in gleaming layers of emerald
silk. Her bearing was elegant, her crown of red hair regal, her porcelain
features flawless. Yes, this was the woman she had seen on Roderick
Marlow’s arm at a London ball. How beautiful she was. Lilly felt horribly underdressed in her walking frock and straw bonnet.

The butler, Mr. Withers, appeared and offered to take her wrap.
She swallowed. Should she stay? She wasn’t properly dressed for dinner. Nor invited. Nervously, she removed her hat and handed it to
Mr. Withers. Then she untied the bow that released the mantle from
her neck and shoulders, and the butler took that from her as well.
Roderick’s gaze surveyed her throat and neckline before returning
to her overheated face. Why did he want her to stay? Was not this
woman, now pausing before them, his intended?

“Miss Lillian Haswell, Miss Cassandra Powell.”

Miss Powell dipped her head politely but reservedly. Lilly returned
the gesture. Closer now, Lilly realized that Miss Powell was older
than she appeared from a distance. Perhaps a few years older than
Roderick Marlow himself.

“I believe I saw the two of you in London together.” Lilly meant it
as an indication that she understood they were a couple and she posed
no threat. But neither reacted as she’d expected.

Roderick cleared his throat, and Miss Powell looked away. “I do
not recall such an occasion.” She flipped open her lacquered fan. “Well,
I shall just see myself in.”

“Nonsense, Cass Miss Powell.” He offered her his left arm,
his right still trapping Lilly’s hand to his side. Miss Powell coolly
accepted. And Lilly was taken in to dinner, feeling very much like
the proverbial lamb being led to slaughter.