The Apothecary's Daughter

by Betts, Charlotte

  Henry’s head began to nod as the sermon went on and on. Susannah prodded him every time his breathing threatened to turn into snores and he shook himself upright again while she ran over in her mind the list of things she had to do before their guests arrived. Peg had been left in charge of the spit and she hoped that she wouldn’t let the leg of beef or the capons burn.

  At last the congregation filed outside. Already the snow was touched with black smuts from the soot-laden air. It was too cold to linger more than a few minutes to wish the other churchgoers a merry Christmas before they returned home.

  The house welcomed them with the smell of roasting beef and Susannah was relieved to find that Peg had managed to keep the meat basted and that the plum pudding was steaming merrily away.

  ‘I’ve roasted the apples in ale just like you said and the jelly is setting outside on the windowsill,’ said Peg. ‘And before you ask, I remembered to cover it against smuts.’

  ‘Well done, Peg! I can see that you have everything in hand.’

  Upstairs, the great table in the dining room had been polished to a high shine and all the carved chairs would be used for the dinner that day. Susannah had decorated the table with bunches of rosemary and berried holly and the best glasses and linen. She had fixed beeswax candles into Agnes Fygge’s candelabra and had festooned it with trailing ivy.

  She looked around her with satisfaction. Fires burned in every room in the house and a bunch of mistletoe hung in the hall. The stairs were garlanded with greenery, which perfumed the air with a pleasant resinous scent. Everything was ready. Surely Henry would be proud of her achievements? She smiled, imagining him taking her in his arms and telling her that he loved her. She wanted that more than anything. At that moment the door knocker sounded, heralding the first guests.

  After they had rolled away from the table full of plum pudding and sweetmeats, they played blind man’s buff and then Martha’s husband, Josiah, took out his fiddle and started to play a country dance tune. When Susannah’s foot began to tap Henry took her by one hand and Martha by the other, calling to William to join them. Soon everyone, except Agnes who was too crippled and Arabella who was too pregnant, had joined in. The children whooped in excitement as they became so giddy with twirling around that they fell over into a tangled, screaming heap.

  ‘There will be tears if they are allowed to run wild,’ said Susannah. ‘I shall call for Peg to take them into another room to amuse them for a little while.’

  Once the children had gone, Josiah played a slower and more refined French tune. The men faced the women in a line and each bowed, shook his dance partner by the hand and kissed her cheek before moving on to a new partner. Arabella allowed herself to be led onto the floor by Cornelius and in spite of her bulk she swept across the floor like a stately galleon. The clip and scrape of leather shoes upon the wooden floor and the swish of silk skirts was curiously soothing as the dancers concentrated upon their steps. Susannah found herself facing William Ambrose, who moved more gracefully than she would have expected, barely touching her fingertips as he shook her hand and turned her round.

  ‘I haven’t enjoyed a Christmas celebration as much as this since I was a child,’ he murmured. ‘And it was kind of you to ask Aunt Agnes. She does so love a party. There is little enough fun these days.’

  ‘I miss going to the playhouse now that all the theatres are closed. My father took me to see Ben Jonson’s Volpone at Drury Lane last year.’

  ‘I saw it too! Most amusing.’

  As he kissed her cheek before moving on Susannah noticed that he carried with him the sweet scent of rosemary and freshly ironed linen. She lost the measure of the steps for a moment and was relieved that her father was her next partner; he held her steady until she found the rhythm again.

  Darkness was falling when the sound of singing drifted up from below. The guests leaned out of the window to watch the carollers stamping their feet in the snow while they sang and when they had finished, threw down apples, nuts and coins for them. Susannah sent Peg outside to bid them come into the hall and warm themselves by the fire and take a glass of punch. Guests and carol singers sang a round of ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’ and ‘I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In’ before the carollers continued on down the street.

  ‘We must leave you too,’ said Cornelius. ‘The children are becoming fretful.’

  One by one the guests left until finally only Susannah and Henry remained.

  ‘I am to be congratulated on having a wife who is such an excellent hostess,’ said Henry. ‘Even dour old Will managed to smile a little and I didn’t hear any of Aunt Agnes’s sharp set-downs.’

  ‘She certainly enjoyed her dinner.’ Susannah swelled with happiness. ‘Oh, Henry, this house is made for parties, isn’t it?’

  ‘I liked hearing the sound of children’s voices.’ Suddenly Henry’s expression was almost unbearably sad.

  ‘What is it, Henry?’

  ‘I don’t suppose I will ever have a Christmas at home again.’

  She bit her lip. ‘I have tried so very hard to make everything perfect for you; to make this your home.’

  ‘I know.’ His voice was flat. ‘But this is another place entirely.’

  She swallowed, her disappointment threatening to engulf her.

  ‘I didn’t mean to make you sad,’ sighed Henry. ‘I can’t bear to have miserable faces around me. Come, give me a kiss!’

  Susannah turned her face up to his and he pecked her on the lips.

  ‘Let me look at you!’ He studied her face as if he’d never seen it before. ‘You’re very pretty tonight,’ he said.

  ‘A little gaiety puts me in better looks.’

  ‘Then we shall have more of it.’ He wound his fingers through her hair and kissed her again, more lingeringly this time.

  Susannah returned his kiss, happy that, at long last, he was taking notice of her. She had imagined so often being enfolded in his arms that now it had happened, she felt as if she were in a dream. Henry’s lips were upon her own but, although it was what she had longed for, it left her strangely unmoved.

  Soon his kisses became more urgent and his hands roved over her hips and breasts. ‘When I hold you like this I can almost imagine a happy future for us,’ he whispered. ‘I can and will bear this dismal country if you are by my side.’

  Moved by this expression of sentiment for her, Susannah barely protested when he unlaced her bodice and laid her on the Persian carpet by the drawing-room fire. She watched his face in the warm reflected glow of the flames and returned his kisses with a passion that was almost real. She dared not speak, since that had caused him such a difficulty on their wedding night.

  His mouth moved over her breasts, leaving little damp spots, which quickly turned cold. Shivering in spite of the fire, she wrapped her arms round him.

  She tensed for a moment when he reached down and slid his hand up inside her skirt, fumbling through her petticoats. He was more gentle this time and she parted her legs a little to receive him. She began to feel again the languor that had overtaken her before and she closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to drift away.

  Henry’s face was buried in her neck and his breath quickened as he moved his hips against her leg. He suddenly withdrew his hand from Susannah’s skirts and the abrupt movement caused her to open her eyes, jolting her back into the moment. Hurriedly unbuttoning his breeches, he threw her petticoats up over her waist and climbed on top of her.

  His entry made her catch her breath. As he moved within her Susannah stared up at the ceiling; it was uncomfortable but not painful and not particularly pleasurable, she decided.

  Henry pulled her arms above her head and held her wrists together as he began to thrust faster and faster. Susannah peeped at him through half closed lashes and saw that his eyes were screwed shut and his teeth clenched.

  It was all over very quickly.

  He let out his breath suddenly, arched his back and then collapsed heavily onto her.


  They lay still for a few moments, while Susannah heaved a quiet sigh of relief. Now that she was truly Henry’s wife their love would surely flower. She experienced a sudden rush of tenderness for him and tentatively stroked his hair, waiting for his words of love.

  Then Henry glanced at her.

  Susannah blinked, uncomprehending.

  He disentangled himself from the sea of her skirts, stood up and hastily buttoned his breeches. He didn’t look at her again. ‘I’m going to my study,’ he said.

  Susannah opened her mouth to speak but his grim face forbade it. He had looked at her as if she disgusted him.

  Humiliation scalded her cheeks as she watched him stride away without giving her a backward glance or a kind word. The door slammed behind him.

  Chapter 10

  It was Twelfth Night and snowflakes drifted past the window from the leaden sky above. Susannah was taking down the Christmas greenery in the hall when someone hammered on the door knocker and made her start so much that she nearly fell off the ladder.

  Peg opened the door and Ned stood there, heaving for breath. ‘Miss Susannah, you must come at once!’

  ‘What has happened?’

  ‘It’s the mistress.’

  ‘The baby?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I knew it! It’s early. Is all going well?’

  Ned shrugged. ‘She’s screaming enough to turn your blood to ice. The children were so frightened Jennet’s had to take them out, in spite of the snow.’

  Susannah snatched up her cloak. ‘I’ll come straight away.’

  Cornelius, unshaven and without his wig, was waiting on the doorstep of the apothecary shop for her.

  ‘How is she?’ Susannah asked, shaking snowflakes off her hair.

  ‘I can hardly bear it! She won’t let me see her and I’m mad with worry. Arabella is such a delicate little thing but her belly is huge. How will she ever give birth to such a big baby? She’s been labouring all night and she’s crying out so much it frightens me. I’ve sent up raspberry leaf tea but nothing seems to ease her pains.’

  A series of blood-curdling yells came from upstairs, arresting her father’s torrent of words.

  ‘She’s strong enough to shout, at least,’ said Susannah, her anxiety abating a little.

  ‘But how long can she go on like this?’ Cornelius drew a shuddering breath. ‘What if it’s like your mama? What if—’

  ‘Don’t!’ Susannah said, more sharply than she meant. ‘I’m sure all will be well. Have you tried dog mercury?’

  He looked thoughtful. ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Then I suggest you make yourself busy in the dispensary while I go up and see her.’

  Arabella lay back flat on her back, red-faced and with her hair damp and tangled upon the pillow. Her hands clutched convulsively over the mound of her belly. ‘What do you want?’ she asked. ‘Come to gloat? Does it please you to see me in my death spasms?’

  ‘I came to see if I can fetch you anything. Father is making you an infusion of dog mercury to ease the passage.’

  ‘Another of his foul-tasting concoctions! This is all his fault. If he didn’t keep pestering me for his conjugal rights I wouldn’t be close to death now. Nevermore! If I survive this I shall never allow him into my bedchamber again. Now go away and leave me to die in peace!’

  Susannah’s old fears made her hands shake and she clasped them tightly together.

  The midwife came forward with a basin of water to wipe Arabella’s face and Susannah was relieved to recognise Goody Joan.

  ‘Now then, Mistress Leyton, your friend is only trying to help you,’ she soothed.

  ‘She’s not my friend; she’s my husband’s daughter and I don’t want her here. Ooooh! Another one! Get her out!’ Arabella screwed her face up tight and groaned.

  ‘Wait outside,’ whispered Goody Joan to Susannah. ‘I’ll come and speak to you after this pain passes.’

  Susannah waited on the landing, pleating the curtain with restless fingers and staring out of the window at Fleet Street to take her mind off what was happening.

  The cry of the knife-grinder drifted up to her and she saw a chimney sweep with his bundle of rods and brushes carving his way through the passers-by, leaving sooty footsteps behind him in the snow.

  Another high-pitched scream came from the bedchamber and Susannah’s heart began to race again. What if Arabella did die? Perhaps then she would be able to return to her beloved home and resume her work in the dispensary. Everything could be just as it was and she would be happy again. Of course, there would be Arabella’s children but without their mother’s interference she was sure she could discipline them into becoming respectful little citizens. Her mind ran on in this way before coming to a sudden stop. Ashamed at her train of thought, she had entirely forgotten for a moment that she was married to Henry now. She could never return to her childhood home.

  A noise behind her caused her to turn and she saw Goody Joan closing the bedchamber door behind her.

  ‘I am concerned about Mistress Leyton,’ she said, anxiety wrinkling her pink cheeks so that she resembled a rosy apple stored too long. ‘The baby is coming feet first.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Susannah bit her lip as guilt overwhelmed her. Much as she wished Arabella had never come into her life she didn’t want any harm to come to her; her father would be devastated. ‘Is she going to die?’

  ‘I certainly hope not,’ said Goody Joan briskly. ‘However, I’m not too proud to accept a physician’s assistance and I’d like you to send for Dr Ambrose. I trust him and we have worked together before in instances like this.’

  ‘I know Dr Ambrose.’

  ‘Send for him straight away, then. And tell him I said he was to bring his special instruments.’

  Susannah gripped the windowsill, suddenly faint. ‘You’re not going to cut the baby out?’

  Goody Joan shook her head. ‘I’m not expecting to take such desperate measures. But Dr Ambrose has devised an instrument to pull the baby out of the birth passage if it’s necessary. Then, will you go to the kitchen and heat some goose grease? Pour it through a clean muslin cloth, cool it in a basin and bring it to me. I’ll use it to ease the passage.’

  Dr Ambrose arrived in a flurry of snow.

  ‘Thank you for coming so quickly,’ said Cornelius. ‘I’m half dead with worry.’

  ‘Did you bring your instruments?’ asked Susannah.

  Ambrose nodded. ‘Take me to your stepmother, if you will.’ He briefly rested a hand on Cornelius’s shoulder. ‘I’ll do my best for her.’

  They followed the sounds of screeching and yelling up the stairs and Susannah stood in the doorway, dry-mouthed with fear. Dr Ambrose washed his hands in a basin before gently palpating Arabella’s abdomen, all the while speaking calming words to her.

  Susannah had never noticed his hands before. His fingers were long and his nails well shaped with paler half moons. He had rolled up his shirtsleeves and she observed the light covering of dark hair on his forearms. How gently he touched Arabella’s pale skin and how very different it had been for poor mama with Dr Ogilby.

  Dr Ambrose took the midwife aside for a whispered consultation. Then from his bag he took out an instrument shaped like two large skimming spoons with long handles. ‘When you feel the next pain, Mistress Leyton, push down.’

  Arabella groaned.

  Susannah couldn’t bear to watch. She put her hands over her ears to shut out the screams and went to look out of the landing window again.

  A short while later she heard a baby’s high-pitched wail and let out a whimper of relief. She ran to the bedchamber, where Goody Joan was wiping the infant’s face while he protested vigorously.

  ‘But he’s so tiny!’ said Susannah. ‘I thought the trouble was caused by a big baby?’

  ‘Mistress Leyton hasn’t finished yet. Here,’ she held the baby out to Susannah, ‘you wrap him up nice and warm while I assist Dr Ambrose. There’s another one.’

&nb
sp; ‘Twins?’

  ‘I couldn’t be sure but I did wonder. That’s why I sent for the physician.’

  Susannah stroked the baby’s cheek, marvelling at his tiny perfection, and he turned towards her finger, seeking her with his mouth. She swaddled him in a cloth and held him to her chest, his little head nodding against her neck, while she blinked back tears of relief and envy. Would she ever live through childbirth to hold a babe of her own in her arms?

  Soon the cry of the second baby wavered in the air and Cornelius stood in the doorway, stunned. Wordlessly, he handed a beaker of liquid to the midwife.

  ‘An infusion of dog mercury,’ said Susannah. ‘It will release the afterbirth.’

  Goody Joan nodded and supported Arabella while she drank it.

  Susannah put more coal on the fire, closed the shutters against the darkness and lit the candles.

  A short while later Arabella, her hair combed and wearing a clean nightshift, sat up against the pillows with her husband at her side and a swaddled baby on each arm.

  ‘Two sons!’ said Cornelius, shaking his head. ‘These are God’s riches indeed. But most of all you are safe, my sweet Arabella. I don’t know what I would have done—’

  ‘Shhh! All is well, Cornelius.’ Arabella glowed with maternal pride. ‘I shall need special care for some time after my ordeal, of course. And another nursemaid will be essential now.’

  ‘Anything you say, my dear. Anything at all.’ Cornelius shook his head again. ‘Two sons!’

  Downstairs a door slammed. Thunderous footsteps clattered up the wooden stairs and Arabella’s three older children burst into the room.