The Apothecary's Daughter

by Betts, Charlotte

  ‘Get out of my kitchen, you useless lump!’ shouted Mistress Oliver. ‘Go and scrub the cellar floor; the drain’s overflowed again.’

  Phoebe cast a resentful glance at Susannah and fled.

  ‘Is Peg here?’ asked Susannah.

  ‘No, she isn’t!’ Mistress Oliver wiped steam off her scarlet face with the back of her hand. ‘She’s only done a runner, hasn’t she? No good will come of it, I can tell you.’

  ‘But where would she go?’

  ‘If I knew that I’d drag her back, kicking and screaming. For all her faults she’s the best kitchen maid I’ve had in years. Ungrateful little madam! After all I’ve done for her …’

  Susannah hurried upstairs to Peg’s attic room under the eaves. What if she had taken off and thrown herself in the river? Heart thudding, she flung open the door. The bed had been stripped bare and the worn blanket folded. The hook on the back of the door was empty and there was nothing at all on the chair or under the bed. It was as if Peg had never existed.

  Susannah slumped down on the thin mattress, her knees weak with relief. Peg wouldn’t have bothered to leave everything neat and tidy if she was going to drown herself. Silly, silly Peg! Why had she run away without even saying goodbye? But where could she have gone?

  During the afternoon, as she settled Agnes for an afternoon doze, she gasped as the answer to that question popped into her head. Instead of retiring to her own bedchamber for an hour or two she picked a bunch of rosemary and sweet herbs from the garden and twisted them into a nosegay. Holding this to her nose to ward off evil humours, she slipped out of the street door and set off. Walking was becoming increasingly tiring for her and it was impossible to see all the potholes in the road due to the bulge of her stomach. After she’d slipped twice, she hailed a hansom cab. ‘Cock Alley in Moor Fields,’ she said, ignoring the driver’s raised eyebrows.

  The driver stopped at the end of Cock Alley, it being too narrow for the cab to enter. She paid him off and lifted her skirts out of the dust. Two men lounging in an alehouse doorway whistled at her and then nudged each other, laughing coarsely as she drew closer and they noticed the swell of her belly. ‘Someone got there first by the look of it!’

  She put her nose in the air and stepped carefully around a dog scavenging amongst potato peelings.

  A girl sat on the sill of an open window, listlessly swinging her bare legs. A sailor walking from the other end of the alley stopped to talk to her and she nodded at the open door of the house and he disappeared inside.

  Susannah stopped and looked about her. Which house? There was no help for it; she’d have to ask for directions. She banged her fist on the nearest door and waited.

  After a few moments it opened a crack and a pair of eyes peered at her from the shadows. ‘What d’you want?’

  ‘Please will you direct me to Mistress McGregor’s house?’

  The door opened a little more to reveal a woman of uncertain age dressed in a loose wrap, in spite of the time of day. ‘Mistress McGregor? Not looking for a job, are you?’ The woman burst into gales of laughter, exposing a mouthful of bad teeth. ‘Bit late for that, dearie, if you don’t mind my saying so. You look as if you’re fit to drop it any day.’

  ‘Please tell me, which is Mistress McGregor’s house?’ Susannah persisted.

  ‘Up the other end of the alley, dearie. The house with the red door.’

  Susannah picked her way along the alley until she found a scarlet door with a brass knocker in the shape of a heart. She banged it down a couple of times. The door opened almost immediately.

  A strikingly handsome girl with black hair and her breasts almost exposed by her low-cut bodice stood in the doorway. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m looking for Mistress McGregor,’ said Susannah.

  ‘Not at home.’

  ‘May I come in?’

  ‘Not sure about that …’

  ‘Please?’ Susannah rested her hand on her stomach. ‘I need to rest for a moment.’

  ‘Suppose it can’t do no harm.’

  Susannah followed the girl into the parlour and sat down on a comfortably padded sofa piled with plump cushions.

  ‘What’s your business with Mistress McGregor?’

  ‘I wanted to ask her if she has seen Peg, my serving girl, today.’

  ‘Peg? There’s no Peg here.’

  ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘I’ve only just risen from my bed but there’s been no one here today.’

  ‘Have you lived here long?’

  ‘Six months, near enough.’

  Susannah’s hopes were dashed. ‘Then you won’t remember Peg. She came here last September.’

  ‘Peg? Not little Peg?’ The girl put her hand over her mouth, her eyes alive with mirth. ‘I’ve heard about her! She bashed a customer over the head with a candlestick and legged it out the window. Mother McGregor was that angry! She’d been paid a hefty fee to find a young maid for the customer and instead she had to pay him to keep his mouth shut. Cracking bruise he had.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t here then?’

  ‘Topaz told me.’ The girl called out of the door. ‘Tope! Tope, come on down. There’s a lady looking for that Peg.’

  Topaz had black skin, handsomely set off by her ochre silk wrap. Her hair was wrapped in an exotic gold turban and she carried with her a heavy, spicy perfume.

  ‘You lookin’ for Peg?’ Her voice was rich and melodious.

  ‘She’s my serving maid. I wondered if she might have come here.’

  Topaz shook her head, the pearl drops she wore quivering from the lobes of her ears. ‘Are you Mistress Savage?’

  Astonished, Susannah said, ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Henry spoke about you. He took Peg home with him after she ran away from Mother McGregor. Said you’d grown fond of her.’

  ‘Henry? I don’t understand.’

  ‘I was with him when he died. Thought I was for the pit, too, thanks to him! And then his cousin, the doctor, came and told the authorities there’d been a death in the house and we were all shut up. Cost Dorcas and Abigail their lives. Cost us all a month’s wages.’

  Susannah’s face flamed. ‘Henry was one of your clients?’

  ‘Certainly he was. Became uncommon fond of me.’

  Susannah swallowed down the bitter bile that rose in her throat but before she could speak the front door slammed and footsteps clattered down the hall.

  ‘Girls! Mother’s home!’

  Mistress McGregor’s plump body was stuffed into a crimson taffeta dress with a great deal of black lace and knots of silk ribbons. Her elaborately curled hair was an unlikely shade of red and matched her improbably rouged cheeks. ‘And who have we here?’ she asked.

  ‘This is Henry’s missus,’ said Topaz. ‘Come to see if Peg has been back to visit us.’

  Susannah stood up. ‘Have you seen her, madam?’

  ‘Peg? Why, that conniving little piece of dirt! Cost me a fortune, she did. If she had been here I’d have whipped her to the other end of the city.’ Mistress McGregor looked more closely at Susannah. ‘Henry Savage’s wife? You’re better-looking than I’d have expected. Is that his brat you’re carrying? Henry brought nothing but trouble on us, even though we was so accommodating. Topaz never had no time for other clients while Henry were around. Couldn’t get enough of her.’

  Topaz laughed. ‘That’s the truth! If the plague hadn’t carried him off I’d have been worn out by now.’

  Susannah couldn’t stop herself. ‘I don’t want to hear it!’

  ‘If a wife doesn’t do her duty by her husband, she’s only herself to blame when he looks elsewhere for his comforts,’ Mistress McGregor cackled.

  Gripping her hands together to stop herself from slapping the painted face, Susannah only said, ‘If Peg should come here, will you tell her that she’s to come back to me?’

  ‘I’m not listening to any more about that girl. Your husband and that doctor cousin of his, between them they nea
rly put me out of business. Now get out of my house!’ Mistress McGregor prodded Susannah in the chest. ‘Go on. There’s no call for your sort here.’

  Susannah lifted her chin and walked slowly towards the front door, hoping the three sniggering women wouldn’t see how she was shaking. Once she was over the threshold she picked up her skirts and scuttled away, their mocking laughter ringing in her ears.

  That evening, still seething with shame and indignation, Susannah lay in wait for William. She hovered in the open doorway of the Captain’s House, peering up and down the narrow street into the setting sun. At last she saw his tall silhouette, the long black cloak flapping around his ankles and the beaked plague mask under his wide-brimmed hat. He held his staff up high and passers-by melted away as if by magic.

  ‘There’s something of the actor about you,’ Susannah said as he stepped inside. ‘Does it make you feel powerful to be cutting a swathe through the terrified crowd everywhere you go?’

  ‘Good evening, Susannah.’ His voice was muffled under the pointed mask and he struggled to untie the strings that held it in place.

  ‘For goodness’ sake! Let me!’ Susannah yanked at the knots until the mask came free.

  William rubbed his face where the mask had left red weals on his cheekbones. ‘Sometimes I think I’ll die of asphyxia under that thing,’ he said, hanging it up together with his cloak on the hook.

  ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’

  ‘Before or during supper?’

  ‘I’m in no mood for jesting, William!’

  ‘So I can see.’

  ‘Come into one of the storerooms. What I have to say to you can’t be said in front of Agnes.’

  ‘How intriguing! Do, please, lead the way.’

  He followed her along the passage and into the flour and dry goods store and waited politely while she closed the door firmly behind them.

  ‘You lied to me!’ she said.

  He raised one eyebrow but his face was wary.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About how Henry died, of course! I’ve been to Mistress McGregor’s house.’

  ‘God’s teeth, Susannah! You went to Cock Alley?’

  ‘Obviously, since that is where Mistress McGregor lives.’

  ‘Cock Alley is no place for a decent woman. You should never …’

  ‘And that is where I found out, in the most humiliating way possible, about Henry’s …’ she waved her hand in the air while she sought a suitable way to phrase it, ‘about Henry’s excursions to the house with the red door.’

  ‘I didn’t lie to you, Susannah.’

  ‘You hid the truth from me! You let me be humiliated by Mistress McGregor.’ The memory of it brought the heat to her face again.

  A muscle flickered in William’s jaw. ‘And in your distress, when I told you of Henry’s death, do you consider it would have helped you to know that he died in the arms of a common whore?’

  She bit her lip in an attempt to stop it trembling. ‘I met Topaz, Henry’s … paramour,’ she said. ‘Mistress McGregor told me it was my fault that Henry visited such a place. She said that I wasn’t a good wife …’ Swallowing, she attempted to regain her composure. ‘I tried so hard to be the wife Henry wanted but, whatever I did, it was never enough.’

  ‘Damn his eyes!’ William moved so swiftly Susannah had no chance of escape. He snatched her into his arms and covered her face with fierce kisses. ‘He had a pearl beyond price and couldn’t see it. My cousin was a wastrel and a scoundrel and he didn’t deserve even your little finger. I burned when I saw the way he treated you and I wish now that I’d given him the thrashing he deserved for the pain he caused you.’

  Almost against her will, Susannah found herself allowing William to kiss her. Her anger melted like snow in sun as she lost herself in his hard embrace. He pushed her back against the wall so that she couldn’t escape, even if she had wanted to. At last he released her, leaving her shaky and melting with desire. She made a small movement towards him again but he held her at arm’s length, his breath uneven. Susannah made a conscious effort to slow her own breathing. ‘I suppose it would not do for Mistress Oliver or Phoebe to find us shut away alone in here.’

  ‘No, it would not.’

  ‘What really makes me angry’, said Susannah, ‘is that all the time Henry said he was working to increase his fortune, he was spending mine. And on another woman at that.’

  ‘I know. I’m ashamed he shared my blood.’

  ‘Did you ever meet Topaz?’

  ‘I did. She was in a state of sobbing hysteria when I arrived at Mistress McGregor’s house that time. Henry had sent for me when he fell ill but he was dead by the time I arrived. The house was in an uproar and I had to drag some of the girls back inside as they tried to leave.’

  ‘But why did Henry choose Topaz?’

  William was silent. Then he said, ‘Perhaps she reminded him of home. He grew up with black people all around him and they didn’t seem strange to him. Why, even his nurse was more of a mother to him than his own.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘When I lived at the plantation for that year, I came to know the house slaves well. Ignorant people assume that they are little better than animals but it isn’t so. They all had their own different ways, likes and dislikes, a sense of humour or a choleric disposition; they feel happiness and sorrow, just as we do.’

  ‘And you found it possible to be friends with them?’

  ‘I did.’

  More than friends, in Phoebe’s case, she thought, a sudden hot knife of jealously spearing her heart.

  ‘Whatever made you visit Mistress McGregor’s house in the first place, Susannah?’

  ‘I was looking for Peg. She’s disappeared.’

  ‘Peg? Oh dear.’ William sighed. ‘If I’d only thought …’

  ‘Thought what?’

  ‘I was going to tell you as soon as I came home but you were lying in wait for me with murderous intent and I didn’t have the chance.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The opportunity arose and I had to move quickly. I took Peg away early this morning.’

  ‘Took her where?’

  ‘To Merryfields. Roger Somerford, my tenant, was prepared to give her a position. We couldn’t have Peg throwing herself in the river, could we?’

  Susannah’s heart lifted. So Peg had been saved, after all.

  ‘Come,’ said William, holding out his hand. ‘We’d better leave this storeroom now. If you smile at me like that I’ll have to kiss you again.’ His expression became sombre. ‘But perhaps next time you’ll trust me?’

  Chapter 22

  The oppressive weather continued and Susannah spent her days reading to Agnes or sewing clothes for the baby. Forced by circumstances to sit still for long periods of time, claustrophobia often overwhelmed her. The sensation of marking time grew stronger even as her stomach grew rounder. Day after day, she sat daydreaming, with her stitching forgotten on her lap, staring out of the tightly closed window while Agnes snored in the chair beside her.

  The future held so many unknowns. Would her baby be born safely and would she survive to look after him? Did William truly love her or was she a mere passing fancy? What, if any, were his intentions? And what would happen if Agnes passed away? These anxieties made her head hurt and even oil of lavender rubbed on to her temples didn’t alleviate the ache.

  ‘Take the boy outside and let him have a run around,’ said Agnes, one afternoon. ‘I can’t stand to have him fidgeting near me.’

  Joseph let out a cry of glee as they went out into the garden. ‘You shall play with the whip and hoop for a while,’ Susannah said, ‘and then we will continue with your lessons.’

  She walked round the garden while the boy raced along the cloisters, bowling his hoop in front of him and laughing with delight. Perhaps, she thought, when her baby was a little older he would be a playmate for young Joseph
.

  Once Joseph had run off some of his energy Susannah made him sit at her feet. He didn’t really take to learning but was a charming child with a ready smile and was quite happy to humour her by attempting to copy the letters she drew on his slate.

  ‘This is an “O”,’ she said. ‘An “O” for orange. Make it nice and round like a ball.’

  He bent his head over the slate, his pink tongue protruding between his lips as he copied the letter.

  Susannah had spent a great deal of time studying the length of the boy’s fingers and his earlobes and the set of his shoulders in the hours he had sat beside her. She wondered if she could detect some likeness to William in the shape of his eyes but whereas Joseph’s eyes were merry and quick, his father’s were usually sombre. Sometimes though, when William looked at her, he was unable to conceal the spark of humour in his eyes, and it was then that she thought she perceived some similarity. She couldn’t dislike Joseph but she suffered torments of jealousy whenever she allowed herself to think about Phoebe, naked, lying in William’s arms.

  Footsteps along the cloister caused her to turn and a sudden burst of happiness made her smile. ‘William! We don’t usually see you at this time of day.’

  ‘I was on the way to see my next patient and thought I’d call in.’

  Pleasure coloured her cheeks as she made room for him to sit beside her.

  He smiled, his brown eyes warm in the sunlight. ‘I see you are working at your lessons, Joseph.’

  The boy looked up and flashed a gap-toothed smile. ‘It’s an orange,’ he said. ‘One day I’ll have an orange. And I’ll get one for Mammy, too.’

  ‘Very creditable!’ William nodded approvingly. ‘And how are you today, Susannah?’

  ‘Hot and uncomfortable.’

  ‘These last weeks before a baby comes can be very trying.’

  ‘I’m filled with anxious thoughts as the time draws nearer. My days are taken up with trivial tasks and there is little to distract me. And I do so miss working with Father.’

  William squeezed her hand. ‘Before long you will have your child to keep you busy.’