The Apothecary's Daughter (40 page)

Read The Apothecary's Daughter Online

Authors: Julie Klassen

BOOK: The Apothecary's Daughter
11.28Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Mary shrugged and attempted a smile.

“What is it you have, Miss Mary?” Mr. Shuttleworth asked
eagerly.

Lilly sent him a warning look, but the man apparently did not
notice or understand, for his long-toothed smile did not waver. He
leaned closer. “A thimble, is it? What does it mean?”

An awkward silence filled the room.

Lilly opened her mouth but could not form the words.

Head high, Mary said briskly, “It means I shall never marry.”

Mr. Shuttleworth tucked his chin. “What nonsense. You must
have Graves’s piece.” He slapped Dr. Graves hard on the shoulder,
causing the slighter man to jerk forward.

Lilly knew most people believed epilepsy rendered a woman
ineligible for marriage and motherhood. But she did not agree. Hoping to direct the attention off her friend, Lilly asked, “And what did
you find, Mrs. Mimpurse?”

Maude Mimpurse blushed and held up a ring. “I got the piece
meant for one of you girls, no doubt.”

They all chuckled politely.

“I have a key,” Francis said. “What does it mean?”

They all looked at Mary.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Couldn’t think of anything else
to withstand the oven!”

Everyone laughed.

Everyone except Lilly, who was still forking through her piece.
And though she looked and looked, she found nothing at all.

 

I do not know of any remedy under heaven that is likely to do you
so much good as the being constantly electrified.

JOHN WESLEY, 1781

CHAPTER 33

hen Lilly came downstairs the next morning, still securing a
final pin into the plait coiled at the back of her head, she was
pleased to see her father up and about already. Perhaps Dr. Graves’s
latest treatments were helping after all.

“I’ve made tea and toast,” he announced with pride. “Had a taste
for blood sausage, as well, so I’m frying a few slices if you’d care for
any.

She shuddered. “You know I cannot abide the stuff. But tea and
toast sounds just the thing.” Watching her father potter about the
kitchen, Lilly smiled to herself. “You must be feeling some better,
Father.”

“Indeed I am. And I’ve had a look at the ledgers, Lilly. First time
I’ve had the courage to do so in months.”

Scooping his sausage onto a plate, he joined her at the table. “I cannot express how proud I am. Well done, Lillian Grace Haswell.
Well done, indeed.”

 

She ducked her head, hiding her smile of pleasure. “Thank you,
Father.”

He picked up his fork. “No, my dear. Thank you.”

“Shall we thank God, then?” she suggested. “I must say I am
feeling quite grateful for His provision of late.”

Charles Haswell paused, mouth ajar, and awkwardly lowered his
forkful of sausage back down to his plate. “As you like.”

Lilly bowed her head and offered a brief prayer of thanksgiving.

Afterward, her Father nodded and quickly moved on. “Once we’ve
eaten, I’d like you to show me everything you’ve done in the shop. Went
out there this morning and scarcely recognized the old place. Smells
like a bakery, or a flower shop. But it looks fine, Lilly. Fine.”

Lilly bit back another smile and echoed, “As you like.”

“I also wonder if it might be time to ask Mrs. Fowler back,” he
said. “You do far too much on your own.”

Lilly heard these words with great relief and pleasure. “I think
that an excellent plan. I shall ask her this afternoon.”

After they had eaten and done the washing up together, she led
him into the shop, telling him about the Lippert family in London
and pointing out the new patent medicines, the French perfumes, the
ribbons, the rouge pots and other cosmetics.

“Here’s one I used myself in London.” She picked up a jar of
Warren and Rosser’s Milk of Roses and read from its label, ” `The
most delightful cosmetic in Europe. Recommended by females of
distinction for removing freckles and rendering the complexion delicately fair.’ “

He glanced at her and coughed. “I’d request my money back,
were I you.”

“Father,” she scolded, but grinned in spite of herself.

He raised his hands in defense. “I like your freckles.” He then
paused before an unfamiliar contraption. “And what, pray, is this?”

The apparatus, standing on four glass legs, resembled a miniature
table. Two wooden uprights stood atop it, holding aloft a cylinder with a crank handle on one side and, on the other, an arm extending to a
a small metal ball.

 

“That is the latest thing in London. Supposed to be all the crack,
according to George Lippert.”

“But … what is it?”

“An electricity machine, reportedly highly effective in the treatment of paralysis, gout, and … perhaps even epilepsy.”

“Indeed?”

“John Wesley himself called it `the most efficacious medicine in
nervous disorders of every kind.’ “

“Ali, that’s right. The good reverend fancied himself a healer as
well as an evangelist.”

She searched for censure in his expression, but saw only mild
incredulity.

He asked, “How does it work?”

“The patient holds the ball and, when the arm contacts the rotating
cylinder, receives a shock the strength of which depends upon the
vigor with which the handle is turned. I have an explanatory pamphlet,
but I own I have not had the courage to try it.”

He eyed the device warily. “Let us leave it for another day, shall
we? Now, what else have you done?”

They moved on. “Charlie and I repainted the shopwindow. I
updated all the displays, as you see. I have also been offering free
samples of ready-made items. And …”

When she hesitated, he prompted, “And?”

“And I prayed. A great deal.”

Lilly and Mary sat on a bench in front of the coffeehouse, halfheartedly watching a group of young men play a scrappy game of
football on the village green, Francis among them.

Enjoying the fading afternoon sun, as well as the cheers and shouts
of male camaraderie, Lilly and Mary discussed their plans for the
coming Sunday.

 

Across the green, the door to the Hare and Hounds opened and
a beefy young man wobbled out.

“There’s Nick Clark,” Lilly said quietly. “Still won’t speak to
me.

“No wonder,” Mary said, giving a little snort. “He’s not likely to
forget how you laid him flat before the entire cricket team.”

“It was only that once.”

“Twice.”

“Well, he should have learned the first time.”

Lilly had first slugged the loud-mouthed lad for saying Mary’s
fits meant she was a witch. The second time occurred when they were
girls of fifteen, and Nick Clark had said Lilly’s mother was a doxy who
had run off with the gypsies.

A few minutes after Nick Clark had gone, Roderick Marlow
stepped out of the Hare and Hounds. Lilly knew villagers were shaking their heads, agreeing that the baronet’s son had been spending too
much time in that establishment since his father’s marriage.

Lilly was relieved to see him walk quite steadily across the green,
adroitly skirting a near collision with ball and player.

“Hello, Mr. Marlow! ” Mary called before Lilly could silence her
with an elbow in her side.

He crossed the High Street and bowed before them. “Miss
Haswell. Miss…”

“Mimpurse.”

“Of course. How fares your mother?”

“She is well, sir. I thank you,” Mary said.

“Gentler on you than she was on me, I hope.”

Mary bit back a grin. “I am sure my mother meted out whatever
each of us deserved, sir.”

“Ah, Miss Mimpurse, you wound me,” he teased. “You are your
mother’s daughter.”

Mary smiled, then turned to Lilly. “Perhaps Mr. Marlow would
like to go along with us?”

Lilly gave a start. “Oh…. um. Well … yes,” she faltered. “That
is an … excellent … idea, Mary.”

 

He raised his brows in mild expectation.

“We are to have a picnic, Mr. Marlow,” Mary supplied, elbowing Lilly.

Lilly hastened to say, “I doubt it will be of a fashion you are used
to, but you would be most welcome to join us.” She stopped, but he
still looked at her expectantly. “So … ?

“When is it to be?” he asked.

“Oh.” How foolish of her to leave out that detail. “Sunday afternoon. We are to climb Walker’s Hill.”

Mary added warmly, “And Mr. Shuttleworth is to bring his
telescope, so we may determine if one can truly see the spire of the
Salisbury Cathedral from there.”

“And Mary is bringing along her famous cakes and sweets,” Lilly
said.

“Plenty for another,” Mary assured him.

Mr. Marlow addressed Mary, “If I were sure Miss Haswell wished
me to attend …”

They both turned toward her. Lilly swallowed. “Well, I … of
course would be pleased. After all, you showed such kindness in inviting me to join your guests not long ago.”

“True. And so I shall return the favor and accept, though clearly
not your original intention nor, I daresay, preference.”

“Well, I “

“In fact, I shall bring a hamper,” he interrupted. “I am sure it has
been far too long since Mrs. Tobias has had the pleasure of preparing a proper picnic. What shall it be? Cold chicken? Roast of beef?
Lobster salad?”

“All of the above!” Mary clapped her hands like a delighted
child.

Mr. Marlow laughed. “All of the above, it is. How many shall I
ask her to prepare for?”

Lilly answered, “We will be a party of seven or eight, I suppose.
Mr. Shuttleworth, of course. And Francis Baylor.”

“And Dr. Graves, I presume? ” he added in exaggerated
nonchalance.

 

She paused. Why did she feel awkward at his mention of Adam
Graves? She lifted her chin. “If he is free.” Lilly hurried to add, “And
you are welcome to bring someone along if you like.”

Charlie suddenly appeared in the open coffeehouse window behind
them. “Bring Miss Powell, do. She is ever so nice to look at.”

“Charlie,” Lilly gently scolded. She had not even realized he was
near. “She is Lady Marlow now, remember.”

Marlow’s jaw worked a few seconds and she feared Charlie had
angered him. “Perhaps I shall,” he said pleasantly enough. “I shall
also bring round the landau and the gill for the hampers and lads.
Just name the time.”

They settled the arrangements, and when he had left them, Mary
snorted back a giggle.

“Mary Helen Mimpurse!” Lilly reprimanded.

Mary burst into laughter.

Lilly shook her head, biting back a grin of her own. “You are too
bad.”

A few minutes later, as Lilly knew he would, Mr. Shuttleworth
came along after closing up the surgery for the day. Francis had the
afternoon off, but he left the game and jogged over to join them as
well, clad in grass-stained trousers and shirt-sleeves.

“We’ve invited Mr. Marlow to join us on Sunday,” Mary
announced.

“Roderick Marlow? ” Francis was incredulous. He was still breathing hard from the game, and his damp white shirt outlined a wellformed chest.

“Take heart,” Lilly said. “He may bring the new Lady Marlow
you are always gaping at.”

Other books

Baghdad Fixer by Prusher, Ilene
Singed by Holt, Desiree, Standifer, Allie
Emperors of Time by Penn, James Wilson
An Accidental Seduction by Lois Greiman
Lucky Bastard by S. G. Browne
Glenn Gould by Mark Kingwell