The Apothecary's Daughter (17 page)

Henry’s mood didn’t improve as the weather turned foggy and frosty. The long nights and sunless days crushed his spirits and
Susannah and Peg were kept fully occupied in tending the fires. The high ceilings, which had made the house so light and airy
in the summer, seemed to suck the heat out of the rooms, leaving them all shivering.

In the dining room, Henry stirred the fire with the poker as it sulked in the grate.

‘What the devil’s the matter with this fire, Susannah?’

‘The coal is wet. It’s difficult to buy good fuel since our coal merchant went to the plague pit. The new man doesn’t know
us and isn’t prepared to do us any favours.’

‘We’ll freeze to death if he isn’t more obliging.’

‘He might be more obliging if you settled his bill.’

Henry blew on his hands. ‘I’d never have come to this wretched country if I’d known it was likely to turn a man’s blood to
ice in his veins.’

Peg, her face pinched with the cold, pushed open the door and carried in the soup tureen.

The draught from the open door caused Henry to shiver convulsively. ‘God dammit, girl, close the door behind you, can’t you?’
He sneezed suddenly. ‘I knew it!’ he said. ‘I’m sickening for something. My head aches and I’m shivering so much that I’m
likely to shake my teeth out.’ He sneezed violently again, four times in succession.

Peg stared at him in horror before letting out a wail and dropping the tureen with a crash to the floor. ‘It’s the pestilence!
You’ve caught the pestilence like my mam and dad! We’re all going to die!’

Susannah’s heart missed a beat. ‘Of course it’s not the pestilence! Your master has merely taken a chill.’ She picked up the
broken pieces of the soup tureen and held them out to the girl. ‘Go and fetch a cloth; there’s soup halfway up the walls.’

Peg squealed and retreated to the corner of the room, her hands held up protectively in front of her face. ‘Go away! Don’t
come near me! I don’t want to die!’

‘For goodness’ sake, Peg! Calm down and do as you are bid.’

But there was no placating the girl and she fled to barricade herself in the kitchen.

After a while Susannah gave up pleading with her through the keyhole and returned to the dining room. She found Henry huddled
up in a chair by the fire, his face ashen, and she felt the first stirrings of fear.

‘Could she be right, Susannah? Have I got the plague?’

Hesitating only a moment, she lightly touched Henry’s forehead. ‘I don’t think you’re ill enough for that.’

‘But it can worsen very quickly. My back aches and my head throbs.’

‘I’m sure it’s only a chill,’ said Susannah with more confidence than she felt. She took a deep breath and repressed the urge
to run far away from any potential sickness. ‘But perhaps we should take some precautions. It wouldn’t be fair to risk anyone
else’s health, would it?’

For several days Henry was in a state of panic, spending hours examining himself for pestilential tokens and railing at the
business that forced him to spend too much time in alehouses and coffee shops. Secretly Susannah was worried too and sent
for Dr Ambrose. He came at once and Susannah made him stand on the front doorstep while she kept her distance from him in
the hall. He listened gravely as she described Henry’s symptoms.

‘Time will tell,’ he said. ‘Keep a close eye on him but I suspect that if it is the plague there would have been more obvious
manifestations of the disease by now. Call for me if you need to and I’ll come at once.’

By the fifth day Susannah was confident that it was nothing more sinister than a tiresome cold and came out of her self-imposed
isolation. Peg had been scared half to death by her master’s illness and would only put the trays of food and medicine outside
the door before scuttling back to the kitchen.

Susannah was heartily sick of nursing Henry, who had moved on from being weakly grateful for everything that she did for him
to a state of bad-tempered misery. She tried reading to him but it gave him a headache. He couldn’t concentrate well enough
to play cards and then sulked when he lost. He didn’t fancy the tansy custard she made especially for him and there was no
subject on which he wished to converse. Nothing she could do lifted his spirits.

At last she came to a decision. ‘I’m going to venture out,’ she told him.

Henry sat hunched up in bed with a blanket over his head and a steaming basin of friar’s balsam on his knees to ease his breathing.
‘Damn this godforsaken country!’ he coughed. ‘Build up the fire, can’t you? My very bones are frozen.’

‘I shall visit Father and fetch some more cough linctus for you,’ she said, heaping more coal on the fire.

‘I hope it won’t taste as filthy as the last lot!’

She took a deep breath, resisting the impulse to snap at him. ‘I’ll add some extra honey.’

He pulled the blanket off his head and sighed. ‘I don’t know why you put up with me.’

‘Sometimes it’s hard.’

His mouth twisted into something like a smile. ‘Honest, too! I think I’ve done well to secure you as my wife. When I’m better,
perhaps I’ll be able to make it up to you. Buy you something pretty.’

‘I have everything I could wish for Henry. Except …’

‘What? A new shawl or a pair of kid gloves, maybe?’

‘No, not that. We need something to lift us out of this fit of the megrims. There isn’t much fun to be had at the moment,
is there? The risk of infection is too great to make an unnecessary visit to a tavern and even the playhouses are shut. Perhaps
we could have a little party? It would be something to look forward to.’

Henry lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. ‘Why not? It might bring this mausoleum of a house to life.’

‘Then I’ll leave you to have a nap while I visit Father.’

The ground was slippery with ice as Susannah picked her way carefully through the streets, the wooden soles of her overshoes
slipping on the cobbles. The frosty weather was a blessing in one respect. The bills of mortality had begun to fall, not enough
for general rejoicing but sufficient for cautious optimism. The stench from the graveyards and the street drains that had
been so overpowering in the summer heat was less noticeable now, replaced with the usual winter smell of sulphurous sea-coal
smog.

Cornelius was out when Susannah arrived at the apothecary shop. Ned was sprawled over the counter, the tip of his tongue protruding
while he laboured over the writing out of some new labels for the drawers. ‘The master’s gone to visit Mistress Franklin with
the quinsy.’

Susannah held her hands out to the fire, wincing as the blood thawed in her tingling fingers. Chilled through, she turned
her back to the fire and discreetly lifted her coat to feel the heat upon the back of her legs. She smiled briefly to herself
at a sudden recollection of William Ambrose doing just the same thing in January that year while she spied on him from behind
the dispensary curtains.

‘I need some items from the dispensary,’ she said to Ned.

He shrugged and continued with his task while Susannah filled her basket.

Cornelius arrived home and his face was lit by his smile when he saw his daughter. ‘An unexpected pleasure!’ he said, kissing
her cheek.

‘Henry is suffering miserably with a chill and I came to replenish my medicine cupboard.’

‘Poor Henry! I dare say he’s badly affected by the cold weather. London in winter must be very different from Barbados, especially
with such a freeze as this.’

‘Certainly he’s out of temper with the world. May I take these herbs and a large bottle of our special cough linctus?’

‘Help yourself. Ned made the last batch so you can let me know what you think of it. I’ll tell Arabella you’re here. She’ll
be glad of the company.’

Running footfalls and a scream came from upstairs, followed by childish voices raised in a heated altercation.

‘That new nursemaid has no control over those children,’ said Cornelius, his face set. ‘I’m beginning to think you were right
and I should hire a second nursemaid for when the baby arrives.’

Arabella reclined upon her new chinoiserie day bed. Her hair was perfectly curled and she wore a silk wrap in her favourite
blue but
nothing could conceal the size of her belly or the puffiness of her face.

‘Are you quite well, Arabella?’ asked Susannah as her father drew a chair forward for her. She was shocked by her stepmother’s
appearance.

‘My condition is extremely tiresome,’ said Arabella. ‘The thought of another two months lying upon a chaise with nothing to
divert me is hardly to be borne.’ She plucked fretfully at one of her curls. ‘Cornelius, ask Jennet to bring me a dish of
curds and cream, will you? And some of those candied figs.’

‘As you wish, my dear. Shall you take a glass of something, Susannah?’

Susannah shook her head. ‘I must go. Henry needs me while he is ill.’

‘Surely you have maids to nurse him?’ asked Arabella.

‘Only young Peg and she’s no use as a nurse.’

Arabella frowned. ‘I thought you’d have more servants in a house such as that.’

‘There is only myself and Henry so we have no need of an army of servants. Besides, when he is well, Henry is hardly ever
at home.’

‘That leaves you free to gossip with your friends, I suppose. And I daresay it will not be long before you are in an interesting
condition yourself.’ Arabella’s gaze dropped for a second to Susannah’s stomach.

Not much chance of that, as things stood, thought Susannah.

They sat in silence until Arabella brightened as she thought of something. ‘Horatia Thynne called upon me last week.’

‘Horatia Thynne?’

‘Surely you remember? Horatia caught Henry’s eye before he married you.’

‘I never met her.’

‘She told me an interesting thing.’ Arabella’s eyes sparkled with malice.

‘Really?’

‘Apparently, she turned Henry down! I’d assumed he decided
against her, in spite of her fortune, since she’s not an attractive girl. Not so. Henry was determined to take her to the
altar but in the end her father wouldn’t allow it. Henry was quite put out.’ She leaned forward. ‘Horatia’s father had heard
rumours that Henry visited houses of ill repute.’

Susannah gasped. ‘Then he was misinformed.’ A movement in the doorway caught her attention. Her father stood there, an expression
of shock on his face.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that!’ continued Arabella with relish. ‘He’s a terrible flirt.’ She smiled. ‘He flirted with me
all the time he was courting you.’

‘It’s time I went.’ Susannah stood up, unable to bear spending a second longer in her stepmother’s presence.

Cornelius accompanied her downstairs. ‘I am sorry for what Arabella said to you about Henry. I’m sure it’s simply idle gossip.’

‘Of course it is! And I suppose Arabella has nothing else to amuse her at the moment.’

‘The waiting makes her a little shrewish.’

‘And you? How are you bearing the waiting?’

Cornelius grimaced. ‘I’m looking forward to having my sweet Arabella back again. And, of course, I’m anxious that there should
be a happy outcome. Birth is a dangerous passage.’

‘I’ll never forget what happened to Mama.’ Susannah gripped the handle of her basket until her knuckles went white.

‘I think of it, too.’

Susannah opened her mouth to say that Arabella seemed to be very big for seven months when she was struck by a thought. Perhaps
her father had anticipated the wedding and the baby was actually almost at full term. Her face flooded scarlet at the thought;
she gathered up her basket and went out into the fog.

When she reached home, Susannah found that Henry had fallen asleep. He looked curiously young and vulnerable as he lay with
one hand outflung on the pillow and his fingers curled over his open
palm. She laid her hand on his brow and, finding it to be cool, opened the window a crack to freshen the air.

Downstairs, she added some extra honey to Henry’s cough linctus and then boiled up the rue, wormwood and other herbs to make
a decoction. As she finished, Henry opened the kitchen door.

‘There you are!’ he said. ‘I’m hungry. Where’s Peg?’