Death in the Setting Sun (2 page)

Yet there was something in him, some basic part of his character, that longed for adventure and excitement. So much so that he often found himself wishing that he could be like other men who settled into a life of routine and regularised living. Like Samuel Swann, for example. But the very idea made him smile. Dear Samuel, the most affable of all his friends, was within a hair’s breadth of growing pompous and prematurely middle-aged, a route down which John had no intention of going.

“What are you thinking?” asked Emilia from the doorway. “You’re smiling.”

“I was actually dwelling on Samuel. Do you not think he’s changing?”

“Well, he’s getting older.”

“Obviously. But I actually meant in himself. He’s growing rather important, don’t you agree?”

Emilia giggled. “He’s getting fatter certainly.”

“And by contrast Jocasta is so thin. Which reminds me, when is her baby due?”

“In early January, just after Christmas.”

“Dear Sam. He’s been wanting a child for years. Perhaps its arrival will bring him to his senses.”

Emilia drew her chair closer. “Oh come on, John, you’re being unkind. Just because he’s growing middle-aged in a different way from you there’s no need to pillory the man.”

“Pillory? I’m doing no such thing. I merely said that his sudden wealth and his enhanced status are making him self-important.”

Emilia laughed. “Perhaps you might have got that way if you had married money.”

John shook his head vigorously. “Never. I quest adventure too much.” His face fell. “Am I middle-aged? I rather thought that didn’t happen till forty.”

She gave him a beautiful smile. “My darling, you will never be middle-aged, even if you live to be ninety. You have about you the eternal youthful spirit. And I think it is all the adventures you’ve been involved with over the years that has brought this about.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. And you’re missing them now, aren’t you? There’s been a restlessness about you recently.”

John put out his hand and took hold of one of hers. “Sweetheart, you know me as well as my father does. Yes, I have been longing for a call from John Fielding. But all’s quiet. Though mind you, that last affair, riddled with bodies as it was, was enough for me for many months.”

“So I should think.” She stood up. “Come along, Husband. Dinner will be served at any moment. Let’s go to the dining room.”

“Not before I’ve given you a kiss.”

“If you insist,” said Emilia, but she made no move to get away from him.

The dining room was on the first floor and they made their way there, Emilia’s arm linked amiably through his. Then they sat down at opposite ends of the table and John, hungry indeed after a day with Gideon, ate his way through three courses without conversing. It was while they were on the fruit and cheese that Emilia spoke again.

“I forgot to tell you that I had a letter this morning from a girl I was at school with.”

“Oh yes?” said John, sipping his wine.

“It seems that she contacted my mother to find out where I was and was surprised and pleased to hear that I was married.”

“It has been some time since you saw her then?”

“Yes. We drifted apart after we left. But she has tracked me down and wants to come and visit me. She is dying to meet Rose — and you of course “

“Of course,” said John with a serious expression, and was shot a look of reproof. “Anyway, go on.”

“Her name is Priscilla Fleming and she is a year younger than I. Apparently she has got rather a good occupation as a companion to one of Princess Amelia’s ladies-in-waiting.”

“A fine post indeed.”

For George II’s daughter, Amelia, unmarried but with a lively reputation regarding certain peers of the realm, was known to live a life of luxury and indulgence, wintering in Cavendish Square and spending her summers at Gunnersbury House. Her parties were considered quite the thing and an invitation to one of them meant that socially one had arrived.

“Which lady-in-waiting employs her?” John continued, genuinely interested.

“Lady Theydon. Apparently Priscilla is distantly connected with her — third cousin or some such thing.

Anyway, when Priscilla’s mother died shortly after the girl left school, Lady Theydon wrote and offered her the post — which she gladly accepted.”

“Quite a step up for her.”

“It certainly was. In any event, I wrote back immediately and invited her to come and see me as soon as she has some free time. She is in Cavendish Square at the moment so that shouldn’t prove too challenging.”

“No,” John answered, but he was no longer concentrating, his mind already wandering off, wondering how long it would be before Gideon Purle began to think sensibly and act accordingly. In fact he was so deep in contemplation that he jumped when Emilia spoke again.

“… you will be sure to come home promptly, won’t you?”

“When?” he asked, forcing himself back to reality. “Oh John, you haven’t been listening. I said I was going to invite Priscilla to visit next Tuesday and stay to dine. Then she can meet both you and Rose.”

“A good plan, my dear. Carry on.”

She gave him a reproachful look. “You don’t care, do you?”

“Of course I do,” he answered. Then he looked at her most sincerely and said again, “You know I care about everything you do.”

“Oh John,” she answered, and smiled her special smile at him.

*
 
*
 
*

The minute he set eyes on her he knew that he had met her before somewhere, though where that had been for the moment eluded him. While he was thinking, he gave his best bow then kissed her hand. Priscilla fluttered a little in response and made another small curtsey.

He looked at her and just for a fleeting second had the impression of a porcine face staring back at him, though when he looked again he realised that this was somewhat unfair. A pair of blue eyes set slightly close together and a flattish nose were what were creating the effect, though the rest of Priscilla Fleming’s face was pretty enough. A fine head of blonde hair was drawn back beneath a large befeathered hat, while the lashes surrounding the somewhat small eyes were thick and dark. She also had a wide smile, displaying a set of gappy teeth. Yet she was so well dressed, such a belle of fashion, that she had the air of a truly attractive woman. And so convincing was this demeanour that John found himself believing it.

“Mr. Rawlings,” she said in a cultivated voice that had just the hint of another accent in its depths, “it is truly a pleasure to meet you.”

As she moved, a strong waft of perfume came from her clothes which John found particularly appealing.

“It certainly is, Miss Fleming,” he responded, “but, forgive me, I feel that we have met before somewhere.” Priscilla laughed lazily. “Of course we have. I have been in your shop several times, little realising who you were.”

John raised his brows. “But surely Shug Lane is a long way from Curzon Street, where I presume you reside.”

Priscilla continued to smile. “Ah, my dear Sir, there is a simple explanation, though one which I would desire you to keep confidential. Fact is that the Princess tried some of your Restoring Elixir and has sworn by it ever since. As one of the lesser servants I am sent to purchase same at regular intervals. So there’s the answer.”

Emilia came in. “Good heavens, what a small world it is to be sure. To think you have seen John frequently but never knew who he was.”

“Well, I do now,” Priscilla said, and laughed once more.

She was very jolly and, considering everything, most attractive in her way. John found himself warming to her. Escorting the two ladies into the library, he poured them sherry and listened to them chattering.

“Of course, the Princess bought Gunnersbury House three years ago but has done a great deal of restoration work. She has started work on a garden folly and is turning it into a Bath House. It is such fun, you really should see it.” Priscilla clasped her hands together. “Yes, dearest Emilia, you must come and visit me there. It would be a splendid opportunity for you to have a look at Gunnersbury which is really quite magnificent.”

John turned. “But that wouldn’t be until the spring, surely?”

Priscilla’s face continued to smile widely. “We often go there in the winter months to make sure that the servants are doing things properly. I shall invite you as soon as possible.” She looked at John. “Will you come, Sir?”

“Certainly, if I can get time off from my shop.”

“But surely you are your own master. After all, the place is yours, is it not?”

“Yes, Madam, it is. But at the moment I have a new apprentice, not fit to be left in charge as yet. I’ll have to see how he shapes up.”

“Oh, please allow yourself a day off.”

“I’ll have to see.”

Priscilla turned to Emilia. “But at least you can come, my dear friend. Gracious, I am so glad to have found you again. What a long time to have been apart.”

“Yes, indeed it is. So tell me, Priscilla, do you have a beau?”

There was an infinitesimal pause before her friend answered, “Oh, several. Princess Amelia keeps an open house and I have met one or two comely young men amongst her guests.”

“But nothing serious, I take it?”

“You take it correctly. I am a hawker when it comes to love. I take mortal pains to remain single, I’ll have you know.”

John asked, “But surely that is just a phase you are going through?”

The small eyes flashed in his direction. “Of course. When I meet the right man I promise you I shall settle down and become an exemplary wife.”

Emilia laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit, Priscilla. I can remember you saying much the same at school.”

There was a toss of fair curls and the feathers on the hat bobbed in response. “Well, there you are then. Let us speak of something else.”

John sat back silently, leaving the conversation to the two women, trying to recall exactly when he had first met Priscilla Fleming. He had a vague recollection of her coming into his shop some six months ago, hesitating, as he remembered, in the doorway. Then, as he had walked out of the compounding room, she had looked him up and down and broken into a wide-toothed smile. At the time he had thought her flirtatious but could see now that this was simply her manner, her way of conducting herself. In other words, she was an extremely confident young woman who refused to let anything stand in her way. He eyed her now, thinking how she had turned rather unappealing looks to her advantage.

“… I find your little girl adorable,” Priscilla was saying, smiling charmingly.

Emilia wrinkled her nose. “Yes, she’s remarkable, at least we believe so.” She leant forward confidentially. “Actually, I am expecting another child soon.”

“Really? And when is the baby due?”

“In June.”

“How wonderful for you. Oh my dear Emilia, to find you so happy and so settled. It is all I could ever have wished for you.” She turned to John, eyes alight. “Thank you for making my friend so happy, Mr. Rawlings. You are clearly an ideal husband.”

“I would hardly say that,” the Apothecary answered truthfully, thinking of the times he had left his wife to her own devices while he had gone in pursuit of villains and blackguards.

“Nonsense,” Priscilla answered gaily. “You are everything that a woman could desire.”

She was flirting with him, gently so, and John could not help but respond.

“You flatter, Miss Fleming. I assure you that the reality is nothing like as good as you would have me. Is it, Emilia?”

“No,” she answered honestly, “it can be pretty dreadful when he is involved in some skulduggery and leaves me alone.”

The piggy face frowned. “Oh? What skulduggery is this?”

Emilia immediately looked contrite, as if she had said too much. In fact she even went so far as to glance at her husband and say, “John?”

“I occasionally assist Sir John Fielding,” he answered smoothly.

The effect on Priscilla was astounding. She clasped her hands together, her cheeks went pink, the little eyes opened wide.

“I vow and declare I adore a mystery,” she said. “Do you really work with the Blind Beak?”

“Occasionally, yes.”

“You must tell me all about it. I simply can’t wait to hear every detail.”

Fortunately at that moment the door opened and a footman announced, “Dinner is served.” Miss Fleming stood up, removing her hat to reveal masses of golden curls. “Why, Emilia,” she said, “how like you to choose a truly exciting husband. I envy you, I really do.” Emilia smiled, somewhat nervously John thought. “Yes, he’s commendable in most things.”

Priscilla linked her arm familiarly through the Apothecary’s. “You must tell me everything over dinner. Promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” he said, and led her upstairs to the first floor dining room.

Chapter Two

T
he meal was a great success, most of the talking being done by Emilia’s long-lost friend. John felt by the end of it that he almost knew Princess Amelia and her entourage and that he could have found his way round Gunnersbury House without a guide, so vividly did Priscilla describe them. She certainly had a way with words and it occurred to the Apothecary that the girl might have some talent as a writer. So much so that he asked her outright. Priscilla blushed modestly.