Agnes’s dark eyes glittered with unshed tears. ‘How will we manage without him, Susannah?’ she whispered. ‘I had not thought he would leave the world before me.’
‘Don’t!’ Sudden panic made Susannah shout, her voice echoing round the chapel’s high ceiling. She clasped her hands together to still their trembling. ‘All is not yet lost. He has worked amongst the sick and remained well during this past terrible year.’
‘But never before shut up in a house with the dying.’ Agnes’s bent and knobbled hands twisted around the head of her cane. ‘William is the son I never had.’
‘I know.’
They sat in silence for the rest of the afternoon, each absorbed in their own fearful thoughts, while outside the rain cascaded down the windows.
At suppertime Phoebe brought in a tray of cold gammon and bread. She avoided looking at Susannah and left the chapel as quietly as she had entered it.
Susannah could barely swallow since nausea brought on by fright made her stomach heave at the sight of the thick pink and white slabs of meat.
Agnes ate little and retired to her bedchamber shortly afterwards.
The downpour stopped at last and Susannah slipped outside to take the evening air. The flowers were rain-drenched and her herbs had been flattened. She walked through the cloisters, perfumed with honeysuckle mixed with the warm, woody scent of moist earth.
Sitting on the bench while the light faded, she watched the bats flitter in the gloaming. She tortured herself by imagining her father’s agonies as William laid on steaming poultices to draw out the evil humours from the buboes. Unable to cry, she rocked herself backwards and forwards, her pain and loneliness as sharp as if she had swallowed broken glass. Each minute seemed like an hour and she still had to endure the night before she could discover her father’s fate. Her baby stirred inside her and she hugged her stomach, wondering if her father would survive to see his grandchild.
Despair descended then and at last she gave herself up to a storm of weeping. The events of the past few days had tossed her from sublime happiness to the utmost misery. She cried for what might have been: the death of her child’s father and her disappointing marriage, the love she thought had grown between herself and William that had turned out to be so hollow, her father’s love that she had taken for granted until he snatched it away and gave it to Arabella. Most of all she cried out from the fear of living in a world without either her father or William there to love her.
The morning was a long time coming. At dawn Susannah gave up trying to sleep. She dressed and went down to the kitchen where Mistress Oliver was putting the bread into the oven.
‘Needn’t ask what kind of a night you’ve had,’ said the cook. ‘And I don’t suppose the mistress fared much better.’
‘It’s the waiting and the wondering that’s so dreadful.’
‘I’ll make you a pot of coffee to take up to the mistress. No doubt she’s been lying awake and a-wondering, too.’
The sound of the pestle grinding coffee beans in the mortar raised a vision in Susannah’s mind of her father standing behind the counter in the apothecary shop mixing medicines over the years. She swallowed back the lump in her throat. It was too terrible to contemplate that he might not continue his work for years to come. She stared into the fire, willing herself to empty her mind of such thoughts.
Before long the scent of freshly baked bread began to vie with the aroma of the coffee simmering on the fire. Mistress Oliver strained the coffee through a piece of muslin, sawed some slices off the new loaf and slapped them down on the table.
Susannah, suddenly overwhelmed by hunger, bit into the warm bread and washed it down with a gulp of hot coffee. ‘I’ll put the rest on a tray and take it up to Mistress Fygge,’ she said, brushing crumbs off her skirt.
A wall of heat and smoke hit her as she opened the bedchamber door. Agnes was already sitting up in bed and Phoebe was kneeling in front of the grate sweeping up the ashes.
‘Shall I open the window?’ asked Susannah. She took care not to acknowledge Phoebe’s presence.
‘No!’ Agnes shuddered. ‘The very air is dangerous. We can’t know what sickness is carried on the breeze.’
Surreptitiously, Susannah wiped the perspiration off her forehead.
Dwarfed by the four-poster, Agnes looked somehow shrunken, with her hands clasped to her chest and her thin plait lying over her shoulder. ‘I shall stay in bed today,’ she said.
‘Would you like me to read to you, to help pass the time?’
‘Maybe later. But come and give me the news as soon as you return.’
Susannah attempted to make herself busy but she couldn’t settle and all the while the weight of dread pressed down upon her like a flat iron. She finished sewing another tiny vest for her baby and placed it in the chest in her bedchamber along with the others. Watching the sun climb higher in the sky, she listened out for the church bells, counting the hours as they passed.
Eventually it was time to go. Mistress Oliver packed a basket with provisions and Susannah put it over her arm. At the last moment she decided to pick some herbs; the fresh rosemary would make a soothing infusion to ease Ned’s cough.
Water still swirled in the drains and detritus washed up against the walls had been left high and dry by the previous day’s torrents. The gulls from the river wheeled and cried overhead, swooping down to snatch at the debris. Susannah’s advanced state of pregnancy made her balance unsteady and she had to take care not to lose her footing on the cobbles.
She was hot and out of breath by the time she arrived at the sign of the Unicorn and the Dragon. The watchman lounged on the step, barring the door.
‘What news?’ she asked.
He stood up straighter but his eyes slid away from hers, causing cold fingers of apprehension to run down her back. ‘Best call your friends,’ he said. He banged on the door with his fist. ‘Oi! Come to the window!’
The casement opened and Jennet looked out, her face swollen with weeping.
‘Oh, Jennet!’ Susannah clutched her hands together over her breast in fear.
The maid choked back a sob. ‘They took him away last night!’
Susannah, suddenly faint, leaned her hand against the wall to steady herself. ‘Not Father! Please say it isn’t so.’
‘Oh no, miss, not your father but poor Ned.’
‘Ned? But I’ve brought rosemary to make an infusion for his cough!’
‘Too late, Miss Susannah. The sickness came over him very sudden and he went into convulsions. All blotchy and burning up with the fever he was and crying out for his mother.’
Susannah pictured the apprentice’s eager young face, his life so cruelly cut short, but she couldn’t help the unchristian thought that she was glad it was Ned and not her father who had perished.
‘The cart came for him before light this morning,’ wept Jennet. ‘When the doctor and I carried him down the stairs I slipped and nearly dropped him. His head banged against the wall with a terrible thump and I can still hear the echo in my ears, over and over again. And the dead-cart was already overflowing with corpses and I keep remembering him being carried off.’
‘You’ve been very brave, Jennet.’
‘Now I’m praying for the master. He wouldn’t like the dead-cart at all.’
‘Does he suffer greatly?’
William’s face appeared at the window behind Jennet. She moved away and he leaned out over the sill. ‘Your father is very ill, Susannah. We have bathed him in cool water to bring down his body heat and placed poultices on the buboes to draw the poison to the surface. Some of the boils have burst, which is encouraging. I can do no more now than to make him comfortable.’
‘Will he live?’
‘I cannot tell and will not make you false promises, Susannah.’
False promises! She studied his face, his expression so concerned for her, yet he had led her to believe that he cared deeply for her and still he had betrayed her with Phoebe. She hardly
knew what to believe any more. ‘Can I fetch anything to ease his suffering?’ she said, at last.
‘We have all the medicines we could need, here in the shop. All we can do now is to put our trust in the Lord.’
Susannah nodded, unable to speak for the fear that tears would overwhelm her.
‘I see you have been kind enough to bring us some provisions,’ said William. He disappeared inside for a moment and then lowered a bed sheet out of the window.
Susannah tied a corner of the linen round the handle of the basket and watched as he pulled it up.
‘Come and see us again tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Susannah?’
‘Yes?’ She met his eyes, hope flaring in her breast again. Perhaps he would beg her forgiveness.
But all he said was, ‘Send my love to Aunt Agnes. And try to keep calm. The Lord will decide what is to happen and anxiety will not help either you or your babe.’
Disappointment felled her hopes. She turned and stumbled away.
There was a sense of unreality about the next twenty-four hours. The routine of the day continued on almost as normal, while terror gripped at Susannah’s insides with razor-sharp claws.
She moved slowly about her duties, hardly speaking unless Agnes addressed her directly, focusing only upon the moment when it would be the time to go to her father’s shop for news.
Agnes’s fear for William showed in her temper and she brushed aside with irritation Susannah’s suggestion that she rest in bed for the morning.
‘Don’t fuss over me, miss!’
Biting her lip, Susannah did as she was bid. Once the lacing of the bodices and the dressing of the hair had been accomplished, she helped Agnes to the chair by the window with her book of poems by her side.
‘You are dismissed but be sure to come and tell me the news when you return.’
‘Yes, Agnes.’
‘And Susannah? Tell Will I am proud of him. I may think he has made a foolish decision but I would not have expected less of him.’
Chapter 25
Mistress Oliver tucked a jar of plum preserve into the basket. ‘The master’s favourite,’ she said. ‘And there’s the last of the gammon for him. Phoebe will carry the basket to the end of Whyteladies Lane for you. I can tell your back is aching again.’
‘It does pain me and I’m tired of looking and feeling like an over-inflated pig’s bladder.’
‘Ah well, not long to go now till you’ll have that sweet babe in your arms and then you’ll know what tiredness is all about! Phoebe, you can leave the pans to soak for now and carry the basket.’
‘Yes’m.’ Phoebe dried her hands on her apron and slid the basket handle over her arm.
The heat of the sun had turned the mud in the lane to dust again and two dogs fought over a bone unearthed from the refuse. The swirling torrent in the central drain had subsided and Susannah found the way easier going than on the previous day.
At the end of the lane she took the basket from Phoebe. Her hand brushed accidentally against the other woman’s and as she glanced up their eyes met.
Phoebe stared back, her brown-sugar eyes giving nothing away. She walked away without looking back.
Susannah had half expected her to send a message to William and was astonished at the other woman’s passivity while her lover was locked up in a plague house. She lodged the basket into the crook of her elbow and set off towards Fleet Street. Unaccountably her spirits lifted. The air was a little fresher than in previous days and some of Father’s boils had burst, which was good news indeed. Some said that if the poisons were drained from the pestilential risings, a patient might recover. Father was still vigorous for his age and his health had always been good so surely the outlook was promising? No doubt he would continue to improve a little, day by day.
It was in this spirit of hope that Susannah arrived at the apothecary shop. The watchman saw her coming and tipped his hat to her before banging on the door. ‘Oi,’ he shouted. ‘To the window! The lady’s here.’
The casement opened wider and William leaned out. ‘Susannah.’
The tone of his voice, kind, gentle, stopped her in her tracks. Carefully she placed the basket on the ground. She knew with dreadful certainty what he had to tell her, even before he uttered another word. All at once she was deathly cold. Everything faded away, except for William’s face.
‘When,’ she asked.
‘Not an hour since. I sat up with him all night and we talked a little but he grew weaker and weaker until he drew his last breath.’
How strange, she thought, she was calm and rational even though inside her head someone was screaming. ‘Was his passing gentle?’
‘My dear, I cannot say he did not suffer but I made him as comfortable as possible.’
‘I am grateful to you for that.’
‘Some of the time he thought that I was your brother, Tom. He took my hand and asked me to find you. Your name was the last word on his lips.’
Susannah faltered then. She uttered a cry of desolation, the sky above began to spin and her vision darkened. From a great distance she heard William shout her name.
The watchman caught her as she slipped to the ground. ‘Upsadaisy, missus!’ He supported her until the faintness passed. ‘Better now?’
‘My father is dead!’
‘Yes, missus, I know. Gorn to a better place, I should say.’
‘Susannah! Susannah?’
Releasing herself from the watchman’s brawny arms, she looked up to where William was framed in the open window.
‘Susannah, are you all right?’
Her lips were numb and she had begun to shiver uncontrollably and couldn’t stop her teeth chattering together. ‘Merely a little faint,’ she said. ‘It has passed now. You see, I had persuaded myself that Father would have improved today.’
William slammed his hand against the window frame. ‘Goddamnit, Susannah! I can do nothing to help you while I’m incarcerated here.’
‘You did everything you could to help Father. Nothing else matters now. What of you and Jennet? Are you still well?’
He nodded. ‘But Jennet is in low spirits. She loved her master and is conscious that now there are many uncertainties for her future.’
‘And there is nothing I can say to bring her comfort,’ said Susannah bitterly. ‘There is no certainty for any woman’s future without a man to support her.’
‘We have to stay here until the quarantine is lifted.’
‘What will happen to Father now?’
‘The cart will come for him this evening.’
Susannah put her hand over her mouth. ‘I must see him one last time.’
‘No, you must not! Susannah, I beg you, do not do this. You will distress yourself and may cause ill to your baby. It is far better for you to remember him in happier times than to see him as he is now.’
‘But don’t you understand? If I cannot say goodbye to him I shall never really believe he has gone.’
‘I advise against it.’
‘Is he such a terrible sight?’
‘It’s not that …’
‘What then?’
‘The buriers will come for him.’ William rubbed his eyes, his exhaustion clear to see. ‘They have become so used to collecting corpses that they do not always treat the dead with proper respect and it will be distressing for you.’
‘Nonetheless, I will be here.’
He stared at her for a moment and then said, ‘I can see your mind is made up and I haven’t the will to argue with you.’
‘I have brought you provisions. Pull up the basket and I shall return later.’
After the basket had been emptied Susannah set off towards The Captain’s House again.
Agnes knew what had happened as soon as she saw Susannah’s face. ‘I am truly sorry, my dear. Your father was a fine man, even if he did let that flibberty-gibbet wife of his lead him a merry dance. The world will be a poorer place without him.’
Susannah nodded, her eyes brimm
ing. ‘Arabella ought to know that she is a widow and the twins fatherless. I can only think that she must have gone to her brother’s house in Shoreditch. May I send Phoebe with a note for her?’
‘Do as you think fit, though I hardly see her as a grieving widow.’
‘I want to be sure Joshua and Samuel are safe. And then I shall go again to the house this evening. I must be there when the cart comes.’
‘I shan’t ask you if that is a sensible notion. I expect you wish to catch a last glimpse of him?’
‘I must see where he is buried. How else can I know where to show my child his grandfather’s grave?’
‘Then you shall take Phoebe with you.’
‘No! I mean, thank you for your concern but I prefer to go alone.’
‘I will worry if you are alone in the streets after dark. Go and rest now since you will be late to bed.’
Susannah lay down but could not sleep. Screwing her eyes tight shut, she sought comfort in imagining herself back in the time when her life had been so safe and carefree. She pictured her mother bent over the counter in the apothecary shop, straining lavender steeped in sweet almond oil through muslin. Mama had applied a drop of the perfumed oil to her wrist and she could still summon up the soothing, flowery scent of it, which had accompanied her all day.
Her father had been happy then. Later, after Mama’s tragic death, he and Susannah had taken solace in the apothecary shop. He’d taught her everything he knew and trusted her to experiment with even the most expensive ingredients.
She curled up into a tight little ball while she remembered the contented hours she had spent in his company. Never again would she be able to argue with him the merits of spirits of scurvy grass over fresh lemon juice for the loosening of the teeth or delight in their mutual interest at one of the lectures at Gresham College or simply enjoy sitting by the fireside in peaceful harmony. She tormented herself with these reminiscences until the light began to fade.
At last she sat up and rubbed the feeling back into her limbs. She felt as hollow and light as thistledown as she went to find Agnes. The chapel was overheated and hazy with smoke from the rosemary burning in the hearth.
The Apothecary's Daughter Page 30