The Apothecary (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 3)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Does he know that I am only eighteen?”

  “Oh yes, and that does not weigh with him. He believes you may be suitable, despite your youth.”

  “But I have neither the aptitude nor the desire to be a governess. I am perfectly content here with you until I reach my majority, and I had always supposed you to be satisfied with my accomplishments here.”

  “Oh, indeed! Very satisfied, dear Felicia! We do not wish you to leave, no, no, no! Not in the least. But… there is just the tiniest problem. Mr and Mrs Pollard.”

  “Have they complained about the instruction I provide Jane? Her drawing is coming on apace, and I still have hopes of improvement in watercolours, too.”

  “It is not that,” Miss Latimer said hastily. “It is… oh, Felicia, you are too friendly with Jane, and that is the truth of the matter.”

  “Who could not be friendly towards her, so sweet as she is!” Felicia said with some heat. “She is the most charming girl.”

  “Of course,” Miss Latimer said. “No one doubts your sincerity or your good intentions, and Jane has come on tremendously under your tutelage, as I have tried to explain to Mr and Mrs Pollard. But they have heard rumours of your attendance at the assemblies, and they are concerned. Jane was seen dancing with an apprentice. Mrs Pollard is rather upset.”

  “He was a ship owner’s clerk, and perfectly respectable,” Felicia said sharply. “He was even shyer than Jane, and it had taken him half the evening to gather his courage sufficiently to ask for an introduction. You would hardly have wished her to snub him. Why, he would have been crushed! And it was so good for her, since she had to exert herself to make all the conversation.”

  “But hardly a suitable person for her to be acquainted with,” Miss Gertrude said reprovingly.

  “If she must dance only with persons her mother regards as suitable, she will not dance at all,” Felicia retorted. “It is better for her to overcome her shyness here in our quiet provincial backwater than in the full glare of the London season, and that strategy was agreed with the Pollards from the outset.”

  “Oh yes, but you are so lively and so pretty, Felicia, that Jane cannot show to advantage. And… and…” Miss Latimer hung her head shamefacedly, then, with a long intake of breath, she went on, “There is your lack of connections.”

  “You mean that I am a bastard and an orphan?” she said mischievously, setting Miss Latimer twittering in distress. Felicia was amused, for she had long since ceased to regard her ancestry with dismay. “The Pollards may be only an inch away from trade, but they are more respectable than I am, certainly.”

  “They are very wealthy, and Mrs Pollard, at least, has some excellent connections. They have ambitions for Jane. In fact, it is their cherished hope that she might make an impression on the Marquess of Beckhampton when she is out.”

  “Beckhampton? Wait, is that the heir to the Duke of Falconbury? That will never fly! I cannot see retiring little Jane ever wanting to marry a duke, even supposing she should meet him.”

  “What she wants is neither here nor there,” Miss Gertrude said abruptly. “It’s for her parents to say whom she marries, a great heiress like her, and they are acquainted with the duke, so it’s perfectly possible, whatever you may say about it, Miss Oakes.”

  “Well, if she likes him and he is worthy of her, I wish them both joy, I am sure,” Felicia said. “But what is that to do with me? You want me to give up taking Jane to the assemblies, I gather.”

  Miss Latimer flushed bright red. “I rather fear it is more complicated than that, my dear. Mr and Mrs Pollard are hinting that they will remove Jane from our care, and as you know—”

  “Yes, yes, all the extras, and it is so good for your reputation.”

  “That is why this proposal from Mr Kearney is so fortuitous. For him, your… your lack of connections is no obstacle, but a positive benefit.”

  “Oh certainly,” Felicia cried, “for who better to educate two bastards than another bastard.” She chuckled merrily.

  “Felicia!” Miss Latimer cried distressfully.

  “I beg your pardon — I could not resist. Where is this position as governess?”

  “At Itchen, just across the river,” Miss Latimer said, latching eagerly onto the happier topic. “Near enough that we might see you sometimes. It will not be for ever, as they will be going to school as soon as they are old enough and will have no need of a governess. Will you at least consider it? Mr Kearney will be here again on Thursday, so you may speak to him about the position then.”

  “Of course I will consider it,” Felicia said gently, and was rewarded by seeing Miss Latimer’s clouded face lighten a little. “I do not wish to be the means whereby you lose your most profitable pupil.”

  “We do not wish to lose you, either,” Miss Latimer said, “but you do see how it is, I am sure.”

  “Oh yes. Either I go or Jane goes. That is perfectly clear.” Miss Latimer protested, but Felicia only laughed. “Do not distress yourself. It is only three years before I come into my inheritance, after all, so why should I not while away that time as a governess?”

  “There! I knew you would see the bright side,” Miss Latimer said happily.

  ~~~~~

  Philip Kearney was a handsome man, dressed in a casually expensive style with no great pretensions to fashion, and all in black, with crepe on his hat. He was perhaps forty, with a little grey beginning to show in his hair, but with none of the signs of over-indulgence so common in men of that age. There was an easy charm to his manner which would make him something of a danger to susceptible women. He was an architect, he told Felicia when they met in Miss Latimer’s office under the hawk-like eyes of Miss Gertrude, and his work required him to travel here and there, but he had his main office in Liverpool.

  “That is where my wife lives,” he said. “Since it was her money and connections that established my career, I still keep a base there, but my heart has long been here in Southampton, in the Itchen village cottage.” He paused for a moment, his grief obvious. After a moment, he composed himself and went on, “You know of my great loss. My beloved Juliana was a woman below notice in the eyes of the world, but to me she was everything. Now that we are separated in this life, our two little girls fall to my sole care. Miss Oakes, I do not expect you to love my daughters, for that responsibility lies with me, and a welcome one it is. My only requirement is for them to receive a little learning, and an encouragement to develop whatever of artistic talent they may have inherited. Their mother was a painter of great ability, and I would not see her daughters denied their chance to follow her example.”

  “What age are your daughters, sir?”

  “Juliana is six and Margarita is four. Their mother had already begun teaching them to draw before her tragic death, and now that the Lord Chancellor has confirmed my guardianship, I wish them to continue that training as soon as possible. Miss Latimer tells me you have some considerable talent with pen and brush yourself.”

  “I make no claim to any superior accomplishment,” Felicia said. “I have a degree of competence, which I strive constantly to improve, but that is all I would say of myself. I have some little experience of imparting my modest knowledge of the skills required, but if your daughters have truly inherited their mother’s talents, they will surely require the aid of a master to reach their greatest potential.”

  “Such instruction as they require will be given them when they are old enough, but for now they need only the essentials, and Miss Latimer believes you eminently suited to such teaching. May I see some of your work, such as you deem fit for public scrutiny?”

  With Miss Gertrude following them closely with her usual glower, Felicia led him to the studio on the upper floor. Three moon-faced girls whispering over their easels turned curious eyes on them, before being chased out by a glare from Miss Gertrude. Felicia showed Mr Kearney her sketchbooks and the several completed works awaiting framing, but his gaze soon fell on her half-completed cottage.

&n
bsp; “Pastels? An interesting choice. Do you prefer such a medium to watercolours or oils?”

  “I do. Watercolours are my bread and butter, naturally, since that is what the parents mostly want their daughters to learn, but for my own pieces I often choose pastels.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “The intensity of the colours, the ease of blending and over layering, the different ways a stick may be used to create different effects. On its side, I can cover the paper rapidly to build a base, then use the ends in different ways to add detail. And I love using my fingers to soften and merge the colours.”

  “There is nothing in oils here.”

  “I rarely paint in oils. I find it… complicated.”

  He laughed. “True enough! You have some talent, that is clear, but there is something amiss with the cottage in this picture.”

  “I am incapable of drawing straight lines,” she said.

  “It is fortunate, then, that you are not an architect,” he said, his face softening into a wry amusement. “Buildings are my bread and butter, Miss Oakes, and with those I can achieve a likeness. Trees, too, although not with such panache as you. But people? No, that is beyond my limited talents. I like you, Miss Oakes. The position is yours, if you are so minded. One hundred pounds a year, plus board and whatever equipment you need for your teaching.”

  “That is generous. To reside in Itchen, I take it. And will you be in residence also, Mr Kearney?”

  “Occasionally, as my work permits, but the household comprises a housekeeper, cook, housemaid, two nursemaids and a manservant, so you need not fear for your reputation.”

  His smile was so full of charming good-humour that she found it impossible to take offence. Besides, she preferred such plain speaking. It was best to get everything laid out in clear sight, with no room for misunderstandings.

  “I have no reputation to fear for, being only the abandoned bastard of nobody knows whom.”

  He laughed, but said, “Everyone has a reputation, Miss Oakes, even abandoned bastards, and your father may yet be found. Why, you might even be the daughter of the Prince of Wales.”

  “Heaven forfend! More likely a coal merchant’s get, I should say.”

  “Whoever he is, he should not have left you unprotected. The world is unforgiving towards those born out of wedlock, and those responsible have a duty to provide for all their children, whether legitimate or not,” he said in severe tones.

  “I honour you for such sentiments,” Felicia said. “However, I must correct one misapprehension. My father, whomsoever he may be, did indeed make provision for me. It was not his fault that the protector he chose died when I was ten.”

  “Would your protector have known who your father was?”

  “Very likely, but she never dropped so much as a hint to me, and never will now. All is not lost, however, for when I am one and twenty I shall inherit the small cottage she owned, and my trustees will permit me to see all her personal papers. Then perhaps I shall find the answer, and will know whether I am the daughter of a coal merchant or the Prince of Wales.”

  END OF SAMPLE CHAPTER of The Painter

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