by C. J. Archer
"Mary said you had your own quiver and arrows with you but no bow. You must have dropped it." She still held his wrist but seemed no longer to be thinking about his pulse. "Were you practicing before you were poisoned? If so," she continued without waiting for an answer, "it’s extremely coincidental that a poisoned arrow should strike you on the same day."
He’d been thinking the same thing when his head didn’t violently object to the exercise. But he said nothing, just shrugged.
"Was Lord Ashbourne with you?" she persisted. "Perhaps he can shed some light on this subject."
"I’ll send for him."
"I already did."
"You’re very efficient," he said. And competent. Too competent. He hadn’t wanted Ash to know of the poisoning yet. Not while the earl still considered Isabel a suspect.
She let go of his wrist finally but he caught her fingers in his. "I haven’t had a chance to thank you properly for saving my life," he said.
She pulled free. "Any apothecary or doctor could have done what I did."
"But they didn’t. Mary said you ran all the way here, and from what I recall, it wasn’t a pretty sight that greeted you. Not all women could have done what you did."
"Not all women have my experience," she said, standing, severing the connection between them.
"Isabel." He waited until she looked at him. "Isabel, what’s wrong? I know last night was...messy, but why are you acting like we mean nothing to each other?"
"Because we do mean nothing to each other." She turned away and began packing her bag, her back and shoulders rigid.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to the shop. You don’t need me anymore."
"Yes I do. What if I have a relapse?" He sat up, felt like his head would spin right off his neck, and slumped down again.
"You won’t." She snapped her bag shut. "Just get plenty of rest."
What had brought about this sudden desire to leave? A few moments earlier it seemed she had been prepared to stay but her attitude changed after he’d thanked her. "But you’ll need to check my pulse again," he said, hearing how pathetic that sounded and not caring.
"I’ll come back later and do it." She spoke like his prim maidenly aunt who used to tell him little boys should be learning their lessons quietly in the schoolroom and not tearing around the house wearing Father’s old armor and carrying a wooden sword. He’d have to do something about that. He preferred his soft, concerned Isabel better.
"Will you check my other vitals then too?" He lifted the blanket. "One in particular is suffering from lack of attention."
She looked back at him, one eyebrow raised, and thrust a hand on her hip. "This is serious, Nick."
"I am serious!"
"Didn’t I tell you too much exertion could kill you until you’ve fully recovered?"
"At least I’ll die happy." He grinned and finally the edge of her mouth quirked into a smile. He was about to ask her how long before she would return when there was a knock at the door. Before he could invite the visitor in, Ash burst into the room like a winter gale.
"What the devil happened, Merritt?" he barked, crossing the floor in three great strides. "Your landlady’s maid tells me you nearly died from a poisoned arrow."
"His landlady’s maid is correct," Isabel said from near the door where Ash had walked straight past her.
The earl turned and bowed. "My apologies, m'lady, I didn’t see you there."
"I prefer to be called Mistress Camm these days," she said with a tip of her chin. "Or just Isabel."
He bowed again. "As you wish. I assume you were the apothecary who tended him? Is he going to be all right?"
"He’ll be fine if he rests."
"So he’ll be out of bed by tomorrow."
"Not tomorrow—"
Nicholas cleared his throat and they both looked at him as if they’d just remembered he was there. "I’ll take it one day at a time," he said.
Isabel shook her head. "But tomorrow is too early—"
"He has work to do," Ash said and Nicholas groaned. Why couldn’t Ash keep his mouth shut?
"What sort of work?" Isabel asked, looking from one to the other. "To do with the estate?"
"Yes," Nicholas said before Ash could say something foolish.
Isabel frowned. "It’ll have to wait. He won’t be well enough to get out of bed for a few days yet. Now, Lord Ashbourne," she placed her bag on the floor, "I’m glad our paths have crossed as I wanted to ask you if you knew who might want to kill Nick."
"Well, actually—"
Nicholas coughed again and gave Ash his best don’t-ruin-this-for-me glare. Ash glanced at him, raised a brow and turned back to Isabel. "No. He’s a saint. Can’t think of a living soul who’d want to poison him. Or a dead one either for that matter." He ended with an unenthusiastic shrug.
Nicholas sighed and tried to disappear into the pillows.
"But you were practicing archery together just before this incident." She sounded frustrated and a little irritated. Perhaps she suspected they were hiding something from her. "It seems a rather great coincidence that Nick should be shot with a poison arrow just after you finished your practice. Do you agree?"
Ash chewed his lip, frowning. "Yes. It is a great coincidence."
Not so great for me, Nicholas thought as his stomach cramped again.
"Do you think that archer you shot by accident was getting his revenge?" Ash asked.
"You shot someone?" Isabel cried. "What were you shooting at people for?"
"He missed the target," Ash explained.
"Good Lord, Nick," Isabel said, "you need to practice more."
"Thank you," Nicholas said, rubbing his temple. "Weren’t you about to leave?"
"No." She approached the bed and turned to Ash. Although a great deal shorter and slimmer than the earl, she somehow seemed just as imposing. Heaven help anyone who crossed her. Wait—he was the one who needed divine assistance when it came to Isabel. "Tell me about this man Nick shot. Could he have been angry enough to try to kill him with a poison arrow?"
Ash leaned against the bed post near Nicholas’s feet. "His henchmen—"
"Henchmen! Oh Lord, this just gets worse. Why is it trouble seems to follow you about, Nick? First the knife attack outside the Four Feathers and now this. Perhaps I should lock you away for your own safety."
"And tie me up," Nicholas said with a grin.
Isabel colored and Ash coughed. "Please refrain from any titillating talk until I’m out of the room. As I was about to say, his henchmen didn’t follow us to the inn so unless they had luck on their side, it’s unlikely they found him again after he left."
"So it must be someone who had followed you there or had been watching the inn and waiting for you to show up." Isabel peered down at the floor and rubbed her chin. It seemed she would remain until she had figured out the puzzle. And if she figured it out, his secret would be in grave danger of being uncovered.
He gave Ash a pleading look. Ash mouthed "What?" then when Nicholas jerked his head at Isabel, the earl’s lips formed an "Oh" and he nodded.
"Ah, Mistress Camm, I need to speak to Nicholas alone."
"Alone?" she said, looking up.
"Yes, we have, ah, manly things to discuss." He winked at her and Nicholas rolled his eyes. Thank God Ash had never been allocated actual spying duties—he was a terrible liar.
"Manly things?" Isabel prompted. "If they are of a medical nature, perhaps I can help."
"Ah, no, thank you. Not medical. Just...personal."
She stood. "Then I’ll wait outside."
"The discussion could take some time," Nicholas said. He needed to get her away from Ash before the earl said too much. "And you did say the shop needed you. It’s not my place to say, but that apprentice of yours didn’t seem capable of taking on the responsibility on his own for an entire day."
She nodded and walked to the door where she picked up her bag again. "He would be if he wasn’t so idle. I think he has
a problem taking orders from a woman." She waved towards Nicholas then looked at Ash, bowed awkwardly, blushed and hurriedly left.
Nicholas sighed. "Ash, can you at least try to remember that I don’t want Isabel to know about my spying."
"Sorry, forgot what with all the worrying about your life being in the balance." He folded his arms and gave Nicholas a crooked smile, the one that all the ladies swooned over. It didn’t work on Nicholas. In fact, he was beginning to think Ash had deliberately let a few things slip in the conversation with Isabel.
"My life was in the balance last night. It’s not today. Thanks for your concern."
"I was concerned." Ash sat on the edge of the bed looking surprisingly sheepish. "I’d hate to lose you. You’re the only man I know who can match me drink for drink."
Nicholas laughed. "I can’t but that never appears to concern you."
"Well it’s concerning me now. Do as the apothecary says and stay in bed until you’re completely well."
"And who will continue my investigation?"
"I will."
"You!" Nicholas snorted. "The whole of Bucklersbury Street will know you’re an agent of Walsingham’s by nightfall. Not only can you not lie to save your life, but your interrogation technique is akin to being rammed up the arse by a bull."
Ash winced. "I get the feeling you think I’d make a terrible spy. Well, it may interest you to know that this terrible spy has some information for you."
Nicholas sat up and was swamped by a fresh wave of nausea for his efforts. He lay down again, closed his eyes until his stomach ceased rolling then opened them upon Ash’s concerned face. "Go on."
"You should rest," Ash said.
"If this is anything to do with Isabel or her father then I want to know about it now. Tomorrow might be too late."
Ash looked like he would object again but then he leaned back against the bed post with a sigh. "Very well. The information I have concerns the original incident involving Samuel Camm. After hearing your theory about the two cases being connected, I tried to find out what exactly happened to put suspicion on Samuel six years ago."
"Seven. It’s been six since Isabel left."
Ash took a deep breath and went on. "Samuel Camm had come to London at Her Majesty’s specific request to discuss some of his new medical theories."
"I know that."
"But did you know that three other apothecaries had also been invited and that they were more than merely rivals to Camm. In his latest book, he debunked theories from all three. Although he didn’t name the apothecaries specifically in the tome, it seems fellow members of the Grocers Company easily guessed."
Nicholas sank further into his pillow. The powerful Grocers Company was the guild to which all London apothecaries had to belong in order to set up a shop in the City. It also held much weight outside of London. Although reputable apothecaries in other centers, like Samuel in Winchester, wouldn’t be members, they would certainly know some of them in a professional capacity.
"Their reputations would have suffered as a consequence," Nicholas said.
"And their businesses. Rumors spread like fire," Ash said. "It would only take one member of the Grocers Company to speculate to another colleague on the street where he could be overheard and soon enough the entire City hears that Pullman the apothecary can’t really cure the French Pox with quicksilver."
Nicholas frowned. "Pullman? Was he one of the three?"
Ash nodded. "And Lawrence Shawe."
"But he’s a physician not an apothecary."
"His father, also named Lawrence. He was living in Winchester at the time. Samuel Camm’s home town."
Nicholas nodded. "They were friends, so Isabel told me. That’s why he gave her employment here in London."
There was a long silence in which Nicholas was only vaguely aware of Ash watching him.
"I can hear your brain spinning inside your skull," Ash said after a while.
"Feels more like hammering to me." Nicholas rubbed his pounding temples. "What I don’t understand is why Samuel would discredit his own friend."
Ash lifted one shoulder. "Camm might have been one of those fellows to whom friendship means nothing compared to professional notoriety." He shrugged again. "Perhaps the question you should be asking is why Shawe was so good to Camm’s daughter after his so-called friend savaged his reputation."
Their gazes met and Nicholas could see the unspoken accusation in the earl’s eyes. "Shawe felt guilty for something," Nicholas said, feeling like he was in a game of catch up where Ash was two paces ahead. Damn his aching head.
"And what could he possibly feel so guilty about that he takes on a young woman he hasn’t seen for some years, who had never undertaken an apprenticeship—"
"Not officially," Nicholas cut in. "But she worked side by side with her father for some time before we wed."
"—and who is a fugitive from her own marriage," he continued as if Nicholas hadn’t spoken. Ash crossed his arms and looked expectant.
"You think Shawe had something to do with Samuel’s arrest or perhaps the poisoning itself?" Nicholas shook his head. "Perhaps he just felt guilty for not visiting his friend in prison. Perhaps he just liked Isabel. There are too many other possibilities and you’re forgetting one thing."
"What?"
"I investigated Samuel myself. He was guilty."
"Did you actually see him make the poisonous concoction that was intended for the queen?"
"No, but he certainly was involved with Croxley and others known to Walsingham."
"That doesn’t make him a traitor."
Nicholas shook his head, part of him wishing it was true and Samuel was innocent of the crime. But that would mean he’d helped send his own father-in-law to his deathbed for nothing and that certainly didn’t ease Nicholas’s conscience. No, it couldn’t be true. It simply couldn’t be. "I intercepted letters between them that left no doubt that Samuel was involved." Even as he said it, doubts began to infiltrate his thoughts. The similarities between the two treasonous events were too coincidental, and the fact that Isabel was being set up for the latest poisoning...perhaps her father had been set up in just the same way.
"Who was the third of the discredited apothecaries at Whitehall?" Nicholas asked.
"A man by the name of Finch. Deceased two years ago so we can strike him from our list of suspects in this current case. And Old Man Shawe, if he is indeed house bound."
"Bed bound according to Isabel. But that doesn’t mean his son can’t be involved on his father’s behalf."
"The question is...why? Why set up first Camm and then his daughter seven years later? Do you think Camm’s book had something to do with it? Perhaps as revenge or a means of removing a thorn in the side of the apothecary most damaged by the accusations."
"Or perhaps it was merely convenient to blame Samuel," Nicholas said. "Perhaps he was in the wrong place at the wrong time." But he shook his head just as Ash said, "No. I don’t believe in coincidence on this scale."
"Neither do I," Nicholas muttered. He rubbed his temple again, feeling like his head would explode if he continued chasing the thoughts around.
"You’re tired." Ash stood. "I’ll go so you can rest." But he didn’t make any movement towards the door, nor did he look at Nicholas, just down at his hands.
"I think you’re about to say something I won’t want to hear," Nicholas said.
"Actually it’s a question you won’t want to hear." Ash’s gaze lifted. "Do you think your wife had anything to do with your poisoning?"
Nicholas realized how exhausted he was when his anger didn’t flare. His head ached, his limbs felt leaden and he couldn’t think properly but he did feel a kind of sympathy for Ash. The earl had never known love the way Nicholas loved Isabel. He didn’t understand what it was like to know a person so thoroughly that any question of their betrayal was utterly ludicrous. Isabel would never harm him, of that he was sure. Not physically at least.
"At some poi
nt last night," Nicholas said, his gaze locked with his friend’s, "I woke up in this bed in clean clothes. I don’t know how long I’d been here and I don’t recall how I got here but Isabel was asleep beside me, her cheeks damp and her eyes swollen from crying. She is not trying to kill me, Ash."
The earl nodded once. "Then we best find out who is before he tries again."
***
"What am I to do?" Meg wiped a tear from her cheek, smearing her white paint and revealing pock-marked skin beneath. She sat on a stool, her elbows resting on Isabel’s counter which made her shoulders stoop and her back arch like an old crone. Her yellow wig lurched to the right so that it seemed her head was lopsided. She was even more disheveled than usual.