Death at the Wedding Feast (10 page)

He drained his wine glass to get control of himself. ‘'Twas nothing. A moment's lapse, that's all.'

There was silence and then Elizabeth said, ‘Why don't you bring Rose back with you? I am sure she would love to see the boys.'

John dropped his napkin, rose from his seat, and walked the length of the table. ‘Madam, I loved you,' he answered, ‘but now I love you more than ever. May I accept the invitation on my daughter's behalf?'

‘Very gladly, Sir,' she answered, and regardless of the footmen who stood at the back of the room, kissed him on the lips.

Two days later John caught the flying coach and had a very jolly time of it indeed, his fellow passengers being three young bachelors going to London to celebrate the betrothal of one of them. When they heard of his recent triumph in the realms of fatherhood they cheered wildly and insisted on wetting the heads of the two babies in every stop they made. Consequently the Apothecary arrived at the Gloucester Hotel and Coffee House feeling much the worse for wear and caught a hackney to Nassau Street in something of a grumpy mood. This was not alleviated by his reception, which proved to be minimal, all of the upstairs staff being busy running errands for Mrs Jacquetta Fortune who seemed to have taken control of the entire place. On catching a glimpse of him coming through the front door she dropped him a brief curtsey.

‘Oh, Mr Rawlings, how very good to see you home. We were not expecting you, as you have probably noticed. My dear Sir, the business has taken off like a thing deranged. Orders are coming in daily for the carbonated water. The whole enterprise is going to be a great success, I can assure you.'

‘Well, I am delighted to hear it. I shall no doubt be needing extra cash as I am now the father of twin boys.'

Jacquetta's eyes opened wide. ‘How wonderful, Sir. Please accept my heartiest congratulations. What are their names, may I ask?'

‘Jasper and James. They are the sweetest little devils and absolutely identical. One day you must meet them.'

‘Will they be coming to London?'

‘I don't know,' John answered, and suddenly felt inexplicably annoyed with Elizabeth for her aversion to the capital and her refusal to so much as visit it. To take his mind off these feelings he decided to make his way to his shop in Shug Lane. Once there he alighted from his coach and sent Irish Tom back home. Not knowing quite what to expect, he sauntered over the threshold.

Within the place gleamed; every wooden surface shone like a mirror; every jar glinted its vivid contents. Even as he stood surveying the scene John could see Fred's back bent as he dusted a low-placed box of pills. He was suddenly reminded of the child's namesake, Fred the mudlark, that ridiculously healthy child who had lived in an upturned boat on the banks of the River Thames. In many ways they were so alike, both undersized, both cheerful – and both with a habit of acquiring things that were not rightfully theirs.

‘Well, well,' John said admiringly, ‘you've certainly made a good job of the shop. Is Master Purle pleased with you?'

Fred straightened up, somewhat startled. ‘Oh hello, Sir. We wasn't expecting you back so soon.'

Gideon appeared from the compounding room, looking every inch the apothecary in his long apron, his curling hair tied back in a neat bow. John cast his mind back to when he had first taken him on as an apprentice and marvelled at the change. The Apothecary had signed on someone totally lacking in flair; now Gideon had become a young man more than capable of running the shop in Shug Lane and entering that most noble of professions. And how handsome he had grown. A veritable sight for sore eyes.

‘Fred,' said Gideon, ‘go into the compounding room and help Master Robin with chopping up the herbs. There's a good lad.'

‘Right ho, Sir.'

The diminutive figure disappeared obediently, and John turned to Gideon. ‘How has he been behaving?'

‘Impeccably. I cannot fault him. And, strange to tell, he has formed a good friendship with Robin.'

‘And he? How is he turning out?'

‘Excellent, Sir. The boy is genuinely interested. He is far more alert and alive than I was at his age.'

‘You were a late developer, Gideon.'

The young man flushed, colouring from his neck up to his bright hair. ‘I suppose I was.'

John smiled at him to show there was no ill feeling and at that moment the door of the shop rang, then opened, accompanied by a young man who walked towards them, his nose buried deep in a book.

‘Good morning, Sir. How can we help you?' said Gideon, just as John was opening his mouth to ask the same question.

‘Eh? What? Oh sorry.' The young man closed the book with a snap and looked about him with a vague expression on his face. ‘Ah yes. Of course. Something for my grandpapa.'

John took over. ‘What did you have in mind, Sir?'

The young man looked at him. ‘Do you know, I'm not sure. Can't think what it was he wanted.'

He opened the book again and read a few lines as if this would refresh his memory. John glanced at the pages sideways and saw that they were full of mathematical equations. He cleared his throat and the young man looked up and fixed him with a vague expression.

‘What?'

‘I did not speak, Sir,' said John pointedly. ‘You were trying to remember what it is your relative required.'

‘Was I? Oh yes.'

This conversation was getting nowhere and Gideon intervened.

‘Would it be something for gout?'

The young man looked doubtful. ‘No, I don't think so. Ah yes, it is coming back to me now.'

‘Thank goodness for that,' said John.

‘It is for . . .' He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘. . . potency. He is getting . . .' He now began to speak so softly that the Apothecary was forced to cup his ear. ‘. . . married again. He wishes to perform his marital duties vigorously. You understand?'

He said these last words with such a great deal of embarrassment that John almost felt sorry for him. He became very professional.

‘How old is the gentleman concerned?'

‘Seventy-two.'

‘A good old trooper then,' was out of John's mouth before he could curb the words. ‘Now, Sir, I have some strengthening physick of my own composition which is considered invaluable by many elderly gentlemen. And in your grandfather's case I would recommend rubbing oil of Jessamine into the appropriate part three times a day.'

The young man looked vague. ‘You mean . . . ?' He pointed downwards.

‘Yes,' said John firmly, ‘that is exactly where I do mean. Now, is there anything further I can help you with?'

‘Yes . . . I mean no. Thank you kindly. How much do I owe you?'

‘Three shillings and six pence.'

‘Oh. Yes. Of course.'

The young man took the package that Gideon had wrapped up for him and paid the money. Then he raised his hat – and bumped straight into the door post on the way out.

Ten

The next morning John ordered the coach to be brought round at seven o'clock. Irish Tom eventually turned up at half past, swearing like an old sailor, saying that one of the horses had cast a shoe and that he had had to take him round to the farrier. The Apothecary, still recovering from his riotous journey to London and the rather odd day that followed, said nothing but climbed aboard and fell fast asleep.

They reached Kensington in record time, or so it seemed to him – the horse appearing to have a new sense of
joie de vivre
for having had its hoof attended to and inspiring its fellow – and interrupted Sir Gabriel sitting at the breakfast table reading a copy of
The Gentleman's Magazine
while Rose perched quietly nearby, drawing a picture in a copy book. They looked up as John entered the room unannounced and both gave him a smile before his daughter rushed into his arms. How sweet she smelled and, as always, John was vividly reminded of his late wife, Emilia, whom Rose resembled in so many ways.

‘My dear child,' said Sir Gabriel, who sat in a long gown and turban with jewelled slippers upon his feet. ‘We did not expect you quite so early.'

‘I am sorry, Papa. It was just that I was anxious to see you both.'

‘How are your sons?' asked Rose and looked at him with eyes twinkling.

‘You little devil,' John answered, chucking her under the chin, ‘you knew very well that they were going to be twins, didn't you? How did you do that?'

‘I get pictures inside my head sometimes.' She lowered her voice. ‘But don't talk about it because it upsets Grandpa.'

John crouched down so that he was level with her eyes. ‘Does it? Then we won't mention it in his presence.' He stood up again.

‘What are their names, Papa?'

‘Did I forget to write that?'

‘You most certainly did, my boy.' This from Sir Gabriel. ‘What are you calling them?'

‘Jasper and James. They are truly identical, Sir. I think you will really love them.'

‘I wish I could see them.'

And there was a wistful sound in the old man's voice. John stared at him and saw that the years were beginning to sit heavily on Sir Gabriel's shoulders.

‘Come with me, both of you,' he said impulsively. ‘I shall be returning to Devon in the next few days. Please regard this as a holiday and keep me company, do.'

‘But the Marchesa,' said his father, ‘we cannot intrude on her hospitality.'

‘She invited you both,' lied John. ‘And if she should find it too much to cope with there are plenty of places in Exeter where you might stay. Please come with me, Pa. I really want you to see my sons.'

‘Yes, Grandpapa,' echoed Rose. ‘You know you will enjoy it.'

Sir Gabriel folded the magazine and laid it on the table, putting his spectacles beside them. Then he sat in silence before announcing, ‘By Jove, I will come with you. As I remember it the Lady Elizabeth plays a damned good hand at whist. I shall enjoy seeing her once more. When do we leave?'

John went up and hugged him, then planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘Father, you have made me totally happy. The journey would not have been complete without you.'

‘And me,' said Rose quietly.

‘And you, darling girl,' said John, lifting her up to his shoulder height.

And let it just be hoped and prayed for that Elizabeth will be in agreement, he thought to himself.

Three days later they left London. Irish Tom, pleased as punch to be driving to Devon once more, took the coach and the pair of horses out along the route used by the stages and some of the flying chaises. John had considered that the other means of transport would prove too much for the two vastly differing ages that were to accompany him. So the journey took somewhat longer than usual as Tom kept his team throughout, resting them overnight. Sir Gabriel, with great spirit, enjoyed the journey almost as much as Rose, peering out of the window and exclaiming at the various objects of interest they passed. The fourth member of the party, a nursery maid belonging to Rose, sat beside Irish Tom, much to the enjoyment of both of them.

Deciding that tact was by far the best option, the Apothecary left his father and daughter settled comfortably in an inn in Exeter and took the high road to Elizabeth's house while daylight still held. Once arrived, he sent Irish Tom to the kitchens and announced himself at the front door. A footman answered.

‘Come in, Mr Rawlings, Sir. The Lady Elizabeth is dining at the moment with the Lady Felicity Sidmouth and the Honourable Miranda Tremayne. Should I announce you?'

‘Yes, if you would.'

The footman knocked on the dining room door and another footman answered. There was a deal of whispering and then the Apothecary was announced in ringing tones. Elizabeth swept to her feet in a rustle of taffeta.

‘My dear, I had not expected you back quite so soon. But I am delighted to see you. Have you dined?' John shook his head. ‘Then pray join us. You know the other two, of course.'

He bowed to each female present very courteously, his most graceful bow of all being saved for the Honourable Miranda who regarded him with a glittering cat's eye.

‘And how was London, Mr Rawlings?' she said, raising her hand to her chin in a delicate gesture.

‘The same,' he replied cheerfully. ‘Still full of whores, beggars and thieves. Not very different from anywhere else actually.'

‘Oh fie,' Miranda answered, ‘surely that could not be said of Exeter?'

‘I think it could be said of any metropolis in the world,' John answered, taking his seat on the Marchesa's right.

‘You have travelled widely?' asked Miranda, knowing full well that he had never left the country.

‘Unfortunately my Grand Tour was disturbed by the war but I have met many people who have had experience of living abroad. One in particular was Sir Francis Dashwood. You have heard of him perhaps?'

‘No,' said Miranda, lying.

‘Well, I have,' put in Felicity. ‘He's a notorious rake and ne'er-do-well, I believe.'

‘Remember you are speaking of a peer of the realm,' Miranda rejoined sharply.

‘I am only telling the truth.'

‘Oh pooh,' said Miranda.

The two girls were glaring at one another, and to break the awkward silence that fell Elizabeth said, ‘The twins are very well, John.'

He was profuse in his apologies. ‘I am so sorry I didn't ask. But I thought somehow they would be. With a mother like you how could they be anything else?'

‘How sweetly put,' said Miranda, dripping honey. ‘Montague and I hope to have several children.'