The Apothecary's Daughter

by Betts, Charlotte

  ‘Miss Leyton!’

  Taking a steadying breath, she opened her eyes and saw that it was Dr Ambrose who had come to her assistance. She struggled to stand but was firmly pushed down.

  ‘Rest still,’ he said.

  He supported her as they sat together on the floor while he pressed a cloth to her forehead.

  Susannah was strangely conscious of the doctor’s arm round her back and his warm hand on her forehead. She closed her eyes and leaned against his muscular chest. His skin smelled of shaving soap and his breath was faintly scented with peppermint. After a while, she realised that Harriet’s screams had stopped. ‘Where’s Harriet?’ she asked.

  ‘I have her.’

  The voice came from near the door and Susannah turned her head to look. A man a little older than herself, with smiling eyes set in a handsome face, held Harriet to his chest. The child was scarlet with rage as she sobbed and sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. The man dabbed gingerly at her face with a lace-trimmed handkerchief.

  The shop bell tinkled and Arabella, resplendent in buttercup-yellow silk liberally decorated with lace and rosettes of blue ribbons, saw her daughter in the arms of a stranger.

  ‘Mama!’ Harriet kicked her rescuer on the shins, wriggled to the floor and ran to hide her face in her mother’s skirt.

  If Susannah’s head hadn’t hurt so much she would have laughed at how quickly Arabella sidestepped to avoid Harriet’s runny nose being wiped on her lace underskirt.

  ‘What has happened?’ Arabella’s voice was sharp.

  ‘Do not alarm yourself, madam.’ The stranger smiled winningly. ‘There has been a slight mishap and your daughter is upset. She ran out of the door as we arrived and I snatched her up to prevent her from falling into the path of a hackney carriage.’

  ‘Oh!’ Arabella gathered Harriet to her bosom, carefully turning her daughter’s grimy face away from the precious silk. ‘I thank you, sir.’

  ‘May I introduce myself? I am Henry Savage, Dr Ambrose’s cousin.’

  ‘Arabella Leyton.’ She proffered her fingertips.

  Susannah regarded Mr Savage more closely. More unlikely cousins she couldn’t have imagined. Mr Savage’s golden hair, richly patterned waistcoat and smiling face were full of sunshine, while Doctor Ambrose’s severe but darkly handsome looks carried something of the night.

  Mr Savage bowed to Arabella. ‘I came today hoping to introduce myself to your husband on a matter of business.’

  Cautiously, Dr Ambrose lifted the cloth away from Susannah’s head and peered at the wound. He was so close she could feel his breath warm on her cheek and she looked away, suddenly discomfited by his gaze.

  ‘The bleeding has stopped,’ he said, helping her to her feet.

  Arabella shrieked. ‘Susannah, what have you done? There is blood all over your bodice.’

  ‘What have I done?’ She was indignant. ‘Harriet smashed a gallypot between my feet and I slipped in oil of turpentine.’

  Arabella wrinkled her pretty little nose. ‘And what is that terrible smell?’

  Susannah sniffed. It wasn’t only the turpentine that smelled unpleasant. Then she remembered. ‘Oh, no! The syrup!’

  The pan was burned black and its contents wasted.

  ‘Your father will be most displeased with your carelessness, Susannah,’ said Arabella, tight-lipped. ‘You know how he hates waste.’

  ‘It was hardly my fault!’

  At that moment Mathew and John, stark naked and dripping wet, arrived to see what had caused the commotion.

  ‘What in the name of heaven …? I’m only away from home for a short while and when I return it’s to Bedlam!’ scolded Arabella.

  ‘If you took the time to look after your children none of this would have happened!’ snapped Susannah. ‘I cannot be left to do everything while you go out buying new dresses. Harriet is ungovernable.’

  Mr Savage stepped forward. ‘Ladies! Come now, nothing too grave has happened. Your new dress is very handsome, madam, and may I say that only a lady of taste and discernment could have picked the blue ribbons that adorn it to so perfectly match the clear blue of your eyes. My cousin will bandage the wound on Miss Leyton’s head and so no real harm has been done. And we must all be thankful that little Harriet was saved from a terrible and untimely death.’ He pressed a hand to his chest and raised his eyes heaven-wards. ‘I thank God that I chanced to be here to save her.’

  Arabella blanched. ‘Was she really in such danger?’

  ‘If I had not been there …’ Henry Savage shook his head sorrowfully.

  ‘Then I am greatly in your debt, sir.’

  He smiled. ‘This is true but all I ask in return is that I may be introduced to your husband.’

  ‘He is not at home just now. Perhaps you would come back later? Or …’ Arabella tapped her cheek while she thought. ‘I have a better idea. Since I have such cause to be grateful to you, will you and your cousin do us the honour of dining with us tonight?’ She smiled prettily. ‘I shall have a chance to show off my new dress and perhaps by then I may have restored some order to the household.’

  Susannah’s eyes met those of Dr Ambrose and her boiling indignation was instantly extinguished by his incredulous expression. She clasped a hand over her mouth and saw the doctor turn away to stifle his own amusement.

  Mr Savage bowed again. ‘I am sure I speak for my cousin when I say we will be delighted to dine with two such beautiful ladies. And your husband, of course.’

  The rays of the evening sun slanted through the parlour window making a golden halo of Arabella’s fair hair and touching her buttercup silk dress with shimmering radiance. She looked divine, thought Susannah, in spite of the vulgar over-embellishment of the blue ribbon rosettes.

  Perfectly aware of the effect she was having on not only her husband but also her male guests, Arabella flirted shamelessly with them all.

  Susannah had put on her green silk with her mama’s pearl pendant and carefully arranged her auburn curls as well as she could over the bandage Dr Ambrose had wound about her forehead. She knew she was not in her best looks and her head throbbed like a blacksmith’s anvil even though she had rubbed oil of lavender onto her temples. She feared she would have a black eye by the following day.

  Mr Savage had an engaging manner and, although it was obvious he had no compunction about using his charm to persuade Cornelius to place an order for sugar and rum, it was gracefully done.

  ‘I am determined to make a success of my new life here in London,’ he said.

  ‘If you can so easily bamboozle me into doing business with you, there should be no difficulty about that,’ said Cornelius, pouring him another glass of wine.

  ‘Unfortunately the plague has caused many merchants to flee to the country and it is not as easy as I hoped to sell even such good quality merchandise as I offer. But I assure you that you will be delighted with the sugar and rum you have ordered, once the Mary Jane has docked.’

  ‘And you may be assured I will come looking for you if I am not,’ said Cornelius.

  ‘Mr Leyton did not amass his fortune by allowing tricksters to cheat him,’ said Arabella. ‘He is most particularly careful with his money. As I should know.’ She smiled at her husband to sweeten the words.

  Susannah resisted the impulse to say that Arabella had caused her father to loosen his purse strings more in the past few months than at any time in the previous eleven years and concentrated instead on the way Henry Savage’s golden-brown hair curled so attractively against his shoulders.

  ‘Henry won’t be hard to find if you are disappointed with your goods,’ said Dr Ambrose, ‘since he is living with me at present at my aunt’s house in Whitefriars, Mr Leyton.’

  ‘I have met Mistress Fygge,’ said Cornelius to Susannah. ‘A formidable woman; well read and with a lively curiosity. How is your aunt, Dr Ambrose?’

  Dr Ambrose’s mouth curled into something resembling a smile. ‘Aunt Agnes is as she always is.’
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  Susannah realised that Mr Savage was looking thoughtfully at her, studying her face as if he’d only just noticed her. Discomfited, she tried to meet his gaze with equanimity. She always found it hard to think of something interesting to say to a handsome man. Hastily she remarked, ‘It must be a wonderful thing to travel the world. Tell us about—’

  ‘Is London so very different from Barbados?’ interrupted Arabella, loathe to have attention placed upon any other woman.

  Mr Savage laughed. ‘You cannot imagine how different. London is so frenetic. Life moves at a slow pace on a plantation, except in the fields, of course. My father has two hundred acres and over a hundred slaves.’

  ‘I have seen black slaves,’ said Susannah, determined not to let Arabella shove her oar in, ‘working at the docks or as menservants to the wealthy.’

  ‘I should not care to have one in the house,’ said Arabella, making a face.

  ‘I hear they can be schooled,’ said Cornelius.

  ‘Indeed they can!’

  Arabella sniffed. ‘We shall have to take your word for that, Mr Savage. My brother has trained his parrot to speak but it has no real intelligence. I suppose it may be the same.’

  Henry Savage’s lips tightened momentarily and Susannah was surprised to see he shot Arabella a glance that almost looked like distaste.

  ‘And what other impressions have you of London?’ asked Susannah.

  ‘The constant noise and the ever-present black smoke; my face is covered in smuts all the time! The streets are so narrow and dark after the wide-open and sunny space of Barbados. And the drains carry such a stench that I cannot get it out of my nostrils.’

  ‘You will become used to it in time and hardly notice it, unless the weather is hot.’

  ‘I find it strange that such a fine city as this, with the most handsome buildings everywhere, allows the tanning and smoking industries to found their businesses within the city to foul the air and make the inhabitants cough. But on the other hand, there are so many ways to find amusement here. I like the hustle and bustle of a thousand people going about their business and already I have made many new friends in the coffee houses.’

  ‘I should very much like to hear more about your home in Barbados,’ Susannah said.

  ‘The sun always shines and the plantation house has high ceilings and tall windows to welcome the breeze. The slaves have their own accommodation and in the evenings after the day’s work is done you can hear them singing. It’s a haunting sound and I miss it.’ His expression was wistful. ‘And, of course, there were the house slaves to tend to my every need. Here I have to manage for myself.’

  ‘I wonder that you left this paradise behind and came to noisome, turbulent London, Mr Savage,’ Susannah said, thinking that his eyes were as blue as a summer sky.

  Mr Savage drank deeply and it was a moment before he replied. ‘My cousin will tell you that there is always a serpent in paradise.’

  ‘A serpent?’ Arabella’s eyes opened very wide. ‘How very exciting! As you know, my husband has a dried alligator in the shop but I have never seen a serpent.’

  ‘I think my cousin is teasing you, just a little, Mistress Leyton,’ said Dr Ambrose. ‘He means that life is not always as perfect as it seems. Indeed, I found that to be true during my sojourn on my uncle’s plantation.’

  ‘You have travelled there?’ Susannah asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

  ‘Some six years ago my uncle needed a doctor to tend his slaves. I stayed for a year.’

  ‘He must be a good master to take such care of his slaves.’

  Dr Ambrose shrugged. ‘As my uncle said to me, they are a valuable commodity and it does not pay to allow them to sicken and die.’

  ‘Enough talk of slaves,’ said Cornelius. ‘My wife shall entertain us on the virginals.’

  They withdrew to the parlour where Arabella played for them.

  It didn’t take a great deal of persuasion to encourage Mr Savage to accompany her. He had a fine tenor voice and Susannah couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  The following day, Ned poked his head into the dispensary, where Susannah was labelling pots of salve. ‘There’s a gentleman to see you.’

  She peeped through the curtain and saw Mr Savage talking to her father. She withdrew hastily, a strange fluttering in the pit of her stomach. As she had predicted, the bruise around her eye was a glorious shade of purple and she didn’t want Mr Savage to see her looking less than her best.

  Cornelius called out. ‘Susannah! Mr Savage has called to see if you are recovered from your fall.’

  It would have been ill-mannered to hide and all she could do was to brazen it out. She drew back the curtain. ‘How kind of you, Mr Savage. As you can see, although quite well in myself, I have a black eye.’

  He winced. ‘Poor lady! I have brought you these.’ He handed her a bouquet of pink roses. ‘Fresh from the country this morning! I came to ask your father if you would like to accompany me on an excursion to Hyde Park. I have hired a coach, which was no mean feat as there are few horses to be had in London any more.’

  ‘I hardly think I’m fit to be seen in public.’

  He hesitated. ‘Please, do not disappoint me. It would be a change of scene to distract you from your pain and I should so enjoy your company.’

  ‘As long as Arabella is free to chaperone you, a little jaunt would do you good, Susannah,’ said Cornelius. ‘You are far too pale.’

  Half an hour later they were bowling along in the hired coach. They left the leather blinds lowered and the breeze whipped Susannah’s curls against her cheek.

  ‘This was a good idea of yours,’ she said to Henry Savage, whose own hair was also escaping from its confining ribbon and blowing into attractive disarray. Her fingers curled over her palm as she resisted the impulse to brush a loose strand off his cheek. She laughed as Arabella grabbed at her hat when a sudden gust threatened to snatch it away. ‘It has been so hot and still of late that it’s marvellous to feel the wind on my face.’

  ‘Hot?’ laughed Mr Savage. ‘Until you have felt the weight of the Barbadian sun on your skin you cannot know how hot the sun can be.’

  ‘And until you have experienced an English winter you cannot imagine how cold that can be,’ said Susannah. ‘Sometimes the Thames freezes over and we skate on it.’

  ‘Perhaps I shall see the frozen Thames this winter. I can tell you, I wished the sea had been frozen over when I came to England; then I could have walked here instead of rolling backwards and forwards in my bunk.’

  ‘Was the journey very bad?’ asked Arabella.

  ‘Torture! I was confined to my cabin for several weeks in the certain knowledge that I would die.’

  ‘But you arrived safely in the end,’ Susannah said.

  ‘By God’s will! But after twelve weeks at sea I thought the ground was still rocking under my feet once we docked in London.’

  ‘Then you will not be in a hurry to return to Barbados?’ said Arabella.

  Mr Savage looked out of the window. When he turned to face them again Susannah could have sworn he had tears in his eyes, but perhaps it was just the wind. ‘I shall never return,’ he said. ‘London is now my home.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Arabella, ‘you’ll be wanting a wife.’

  Blushing at her forthright comment, it was Susannah’s turn to look out of the window.

  Chapter 4

  Susannah calculated that Martha’s baby would come very soon and she was overcome with remorse. It had been two months since she and her friend had parted with the air as cool as frost between them. Supposing all did not go well with her? She would never forgive herself if Martha didn’t survive the birth and they had not made their peace. She would go this very day to visit her friend.

  She spent the morning baking biscuits and then put them in her basket with a bottle of Leyton’s Cordial for Martha’s children. As an afterthought she went into the yard and picked a handful of thyme from the pot by the door, d
usted off the soot and tied it up in a thread. She wished that she could make a proper herb garden but nothing thrived in the sour earth of the yard. Returning to the kitchen she found Harriet rooting through her basket.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Nothing!’ Harriet stared at her defiantly.

  ‘You’ve been eating my biscuits!’

  ‘Haven’t!’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Harriet! There are crumbs all around your mouth.’ Susannah was beginning to dislike the child for her mean and petty ways.

  Harriet stuck out her tongue and flounced out of the kitchen.

  Susannah sighed. At least she wouldn’t be burdened with her presence while she visited her friend. She let herself out of the shop door and set off down Fleet Street with all haste before Arabella caught her and insisted she take the boys.

  The streets were strangely quiet. Each time she went out Susannah noticed that there were fewer and fewer people. Far from being jostled and harried by the press of the crowd as she had been used to all her life, it was possible to walk along with space and air around her. Strangers took care to cross the street when they saw each other coming and each day she saw carriages and cartloads of furniture trundling away towards the west, journeying to the country. In the past month it had become almost impossible to hire a horse since so many had been bought by the wealthy, desperate to escape from a city where plague haunted the streets.

  Near St Bride’s Susannah passed two houses which had been shut up, red crosses painted on their doors above the words Lord Have Mercy Upon Us. The red paint dripped down from the crudely painted letters just as if it were blood. One house was silent but in the other a woman screamed; a high thin wail of terror that went on and on. The sound bored into Susannah’s ears like a spike and she began to run as fast as she could to escape from her own fear. Her family had been lucky so far but who could tell who would be the next to sicken?

  She reached Martha’s familiar door and hammered on the knocker. After what seemed like a long time she heard the bolts scrape back and Martha’s servant let her in. She followed the girl to the parlour, where Martha was teaching three of her children their catechism. She looked up and Susannah’s heart froze for a second when she thought she hadn’t been forgiven but then Martha smiled.