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Authors: Julie Klassen

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“Not as often as I should.” Nor as often as I once did.

Cecil turned the horses toward the north, she noticed, toward
Alton. Why was he not simply driving straight into the village?

“What do you petition for, Miss Haswell? What worldly troubles press themselves upon your heart? Starving orphans in London?
Slavery in Spain, perhaps? The war with France?”

“No, I am afraid my small prayers are of a far narrower scope. My father. Brother. My dear friend Mary.” She did not mention her mother,
though she could have. She was still distracted by the unexpected
detour.

 

“What about dear Mary moves you to pray?”

“She struggles with epilepsy … falling sickness. Do you not
remember?”

“Oh yes. That girl who has fits.”

Her concern was instantly replaced with irritation. “She is not
that girl. She is Mary Helen Mimpurse. The cleverest girl I know. The
gentlest, truest friend. The daughter of a war hero and the finest woman
in Bedsley Priors well you are acquainted with her mother.”

“Maude Mimpurse’s daughter? I had forgotten. Forgive me, I
meant no disrespect to your Miss Mary Mimpurse. My, how diverting
to say that. Miss Mary Mimpurse. Miss Mary Mimpurse …”

She found herself chuckling with him and noted they were now
driving on a narrow track east.

He suddenly sobered. “By your own admission, the list of beneficiaries of your prayers is quite small. Would you consider adding
another? “

“You, sir?”

He pulled a frown, brows raised, “You think I need prayers?”

“We all do, sir. Some more than others.”

“Miss Lillian Haswell, I do believe you are teasing me.”

She grinned.

“Actually, I meant my father. He has fallen ill again. That smug
Dr. Foster spent half the morning at his side.”

How foolish she felt now. “Of course I shall pray for your
father.”

“Thank you.” They rode on in silence for several moments. Lilly
realized that after their brief detour, Cecil had again turned south
toward Bedsley Priors.

Marlow said, “But if you happened to mention my name to God
now and again, I should not object.”

She smiled. “I shall ask Him to give you humility.”

 

He cleared his throat. “Let us not ask for a miracle right off, shall
we? “

She laughed.

“But of course … you Haswells call down miracles at will is
that not right? Your father, the legendary healer and all that. Bringing
my own grandfather back from the dead, as they say.”

Lilly bit her lip, then whispered, “That was a long time ago.”

They made the final turning down the High Street.

“Well, here we are,” he said. “I cannot remember when I’ve so
enjoyed a carriage ride.”

“Nor I. But then, we haven’t a proper carriage.”

He gave a dry bark of laughter. “Here I think I am about to receive a
compliment, and she pulls the chair out from under me at the last.”

Cecil reined in the horses in front of the shop.

“Hold there, Briggs.” Marlow alighted from the carriage, lowered
the step himself, and offered his hand to her. She swallowed but placed
her gloved hand in his. With a gentle grip, he assisted her down and
walked her to the front door.

Retrieving her hand, she looked up at him squarely. “Then here
is a genuine compliment. Thank you for your fair treatment of my
brother. More than fair. And for your gallant behavior toward me
this very evening.”

He bowed. “You are most welcome.” He leaned near, and she felt
his warm breath on her cheek. Quietly, he added, “Now go inside
before I attempt something less than gallant.”

She hurried to comply.

In the morning, Lilly walked over to the coffeehouse, letting herself in the kitchen door as she always had.

“How did it go last night? ” Mary asked, pouring her a cup of
coffee.

“It was really very pleasant. Mr. Marlow was quite gentlemanly, even though he had a house party in progress when I arrived uninvited. He even insisted I stay for dinner. I was so glad you’d
dressed my-“

 

“I meant how did it go about Charlie?”

“Oh.” Lilly felt foolish but continued on, “Fine. Perfect. He was
quite magnanimous about the whole situation.”

“Magnanimous,” Mary repeated, somewhat skeptically.

“He said Charlie would be welcomed back at any time.”

“Roderick Marlow said that?”

“Yes. He was very agreeable.”

Mary narrowed her eyes. “Really.”

Lilly stirred sugar into her coffee, waiting until young Jane passed
by with brush and blacking before adding, “And a former suitor of
mine was there as well you remember the Mr. Bromley I told you
about?”

Mary leaned her elbows on the worktable and studied her, slowly
shaking her head. “I don’t think Mr. Bromley put that blush in your
cheeks, love.”

“Mary, no. I can guess what you are thinking, but-“

“Can you? And worrying about?”

“Do not be uneasy. Roderick Marlow is a very handsome man -I
do not deny it. And for some reason he was exceedingly charming last
night. But I know what he’s capable of. And I’m not foolish enough to
think he’d have any serious intentions toward an apothecary’s daughter. I experienced my share of that in London. Men happy to flirt and
dance with me, all the while planning to marry another lady of their
own class.”

“Oh, you’ll marry one day,” Mary said wistfully. “Lovely, healthy
girl like you.”

Lilly looked up at her friend, sensing her sadness. “I could say
the same of you, Mary. Mr. Shuttleworth can barely take his eyes
off you.”

Mary shrugged the idea away. “It is only because he doesn’t
know.”

Seeing her discomfort and not knowing how to reassure her, Lilly
changed the subject, telling all she had learned about Rosa Wells in London. She concluded by saying, “You and I have both seen unhappy
marriages firsthand. I am in no hurry to end up in one of my own, no
matter my aunt’s machinations.” She rose and rinsed her coffee cup
in the basin. “In any case, Mr. Marlow has all but said he will marry
that red-haired beauty.”

 

“Charlie will be brokenhearted,” Mary said in jest.

“Probably.” Lilly paused. “Cassandra Powell is a bit older, I think,
than she looks. And I am told, suffered a broken engagement, poor
thing.”

“Poor thing, indeed. I cannot get over how sorry I’m feeling for
the picture of perfection who’s turned the head of the county’s most
eligible bachelor. Yes, I think I must take the poor thing to prayer.”

Lilly bit back a smile. “Mary Helen Mimpurse! That is the first
nearly unkind thing I believe I’ve ever heard you say about anyone.”

Mary smirked and said dryly, “Stick around, love, stick
around.”

 

England is a nation of shopkeepers.

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE

CHAPTER 22

ith surprising reluctance, Charlie moved his things back into
the bedchamber next to Lilly’s. He resumed the sweeping up
and his work in the physic garden. She would have liked to ask Mrs.
Fowler back as well, and would, as soon as they could again afford to
pay her wages.

Lilly was poring over ledgers and unpaid bills when Francis
stopped in on his afternoon off. He hopped up onto the high counter,
swinging his legs. It reminded her of the Francis of former days. All
arms and legs and more energy for cricket than studying. Now those
arms and legs had filled out with masculine muscle beneath his white
shirt and breeches. He had certainly changed during her absence, but
she wondered if the changes were only physical.

“How fares your mother, Francis?” she asked.

“Well enough.”

“And your sister?”

 

“She has engaged herself to Tom Billings at last. That curate she
had long pined for married someone else.”

“Was your sister laid very low?”

He shrugged. “She caddled about for days at Christmas. But she
seems to have recovered rather well.”

Lilly closed the ledger and thought back. “I met your sister only
the once, but I recall she was very pleasing in manner and countenance.
Quite handsome.”

“Do you think so?” He grinned. “You said I was very like her.”

She chose to ignore this statement, true though it was. Thinking
once more of her parents, she asked, “Does Mr. Billings know she
preferred another?”

“He knows but overlooks her foolishness. That’s the way love is,
I suppose.”

“Is it? I am not sure I would be as understanding if the man I
loved pined for another.”

His legs stopped swinging. “Do you … that is … did you form
an attachment while you were in London?”

“Only two.”

His eyebrows rose.

“But both ended just before I left. I doubt either will come to
anything, even when or if -I return.”

He looked at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to explain.

“One was a physician, of whom my aunt disapproved. He was
reserved and uncertain. Still I thought, perhaps … The other was a
gentleman whom my aunt advised me in the strongest terms to accept.
Wealthy, an heir, good-looking, kind…”

“No wonder you refused that swell,” Francis rued. “I detest him
already.”

Lilly shot him a wry grin. “No. I refused him because, while he
admired me, he did not love me.”

Looking at her, Francis said quietly, “He would have, in time.”

She met his gaze for a moment, considering his words, then continued. “Perhaps did he not love another.”

“Is there no chance this other woman will accept him?”

 

“I believe there might be. If she believes she cannot have him.”

“Ah … yes,” Francis said. “I have seen that before not realizing
what one has until he or she has lost it.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Lilly looked around the shop. “This feels
very much like days gone, when you and I would sit here together,
wondering where Charlie had got to, wagering on what he had found
to count. Wondering where all the customers were, but glad for the
respite too.”

Francis picked up the thread, “Your father napping in his surgery
or grumbling about something I’d forgotten to distill.”

“And you forever teasing me. Like brother and sister, we were. I
shall never forget it.”

“I wonder,” he said gently. “Do you remember, Lilly?”

She wrinkled her brow. “Of course I do.”

“Clearly, I mean?”

She tilted her head and looked at him. “I am sure my memory will
fail one day, but I am hardly in my dotage yet.”

He hopped down from the counter, stepping closer as he continued, “What I mean is, you and I seem to remember those days
differently. You could not leave here quickly enough when the chance
came, but I hated to see those days end. I still remember being here
with you … living under the same roof, taking meals together, talking
and laughing together.” He looked steadily into her eyes. “It was one
of the happiest times of my life.”

Charlie came in, the door slamming behind him. Lilly pulled
her gaze from Francis to greet her brother as he carried in an armful
of peppermint for her to bunch and dry. Francis moved to the door
to take his leave.

BOOK: The Apothecary's Daughter
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