The Apothecary's Daughter (22 page)

‘Where is it, then?’

Susannah swallowed, fear rising up in her throat and threatening to choke her. ‘But if I have no money and no home, what will
I do now?’ she whispered.

Susannah did not sleep at all that night. Earlier that evening she had counted out the handful of coins put aside for housekeeping
and realised that, even if she was careful, there wasn’t enough to last a fortnight. She walked the floor with her heartbeat
hammering in her ears while she considered her options. In truth, there were few. She could go home, she could find work as
a servant, or she could marry again. But who would have her, a maiden no longer and her dowry gone? An apothecary’s daughter,
a dead man’s penniless widow; she, Susannah alone, was nothing.

At first light, she went down into the kitchen and ground some coffee, boiling it up with plenty of sugar, hoping to fortify
herself. But after only two sips anxiety overcame her and she felt too sick to face any more. Fidgety, she sat down at the
kitchen table and vigorously polished all the pewter plate, all the while her mind running round and round like a caged rat.

In the end she faced up to the unpalatable truth that there was nothing else to do but to go home and throw herself upon Arabella’s
mercy.

She had only just put all the plates back on the dresser when the door knocker sounded. It was Agnes Fygge and William Ambrose.
Susannah glanced at Ambrose but he refused to meet her eye.

‘You’re wearing mourning then, even though my nephew left you destitute?’ said Agnes, as she followed Susannah into the drawing
room.

‘I shall miss him,’ said Susannah quietly. It was the truth, even though she would have murdered him if he stood before her
now.

‘William tells me you must leave this house.’

‘I shall go home.’

‘Hmm.’ Agnes studied her with her sharp, black eyes. ‘And what about your stepmother?’

Susannah shrugged.

‘You’ll regret it. She’s not one to be accommodating, that one.’

‘My father will not see me in difficult circumstances.’

‘You think that? I credited you with more perception. Cornelius dances to his wife’s tune now.’ She turned to William Ambrose.
‘Is she ill? She doesn’t look strong.’

‘It is hardly surprising if my cousin’s widow needs a little time to recover from the shock.’

‘She has no time! She cannot afford the luxury of wallowing in her grief.’

‘I am not wallowing!’ said Susannah, her cheeks burning with sudden rage. ‘And I’ll thank you not to discuss my future as
if I am not present.’

‘I might make use of you.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I need a waiting woman. You might do. What do you say to that?’

Susannah realised her mouth was open and snapped it shut. ‘Thank you, Mistress Fygge, but I have no need to be your servant.’

‘Hoity-toity!’

William Ambrose raised one eyebrow but said nothing.

‘Since your nephew has indeed left me destitute, I shall return home to my father.’

‘You’ll not bear it for long, mark my words. I give it two days and then you’ll be knocking on my door begging me to take
you in.’

‘I promise you, I shall not!’

Agnes Fygge glared at her and Susannah stared angrily back until the old woman dropped her gaze with a sigh. Leaning heavily
upon
her monkey-headed cane she turned to her nephew. ‘Take me home, William. I’m wasting my time here with this obstinate girl.
You’ve lost your best opportunity, miss. Good day to you.’

William Ambrose doffed his hat to her, took his aunt’s arm and they left.

A short while later Susannah set off for the apothecary shop. Still simmering with suppressed anger, she knew that she had
no other choice but to beg to be allowed to return home, in whatever lowly position Arabella decided she would allow her.

The shop door was locked and no amount of hammering brought anyone to open it. She could hear the babies wailing from an upstairs
window and so she walked back along Fleet Street and turned into the alley which ran alongside the back yard. She stood on
tiptoe and reached up to run her fingers along the rough top of the wall until she found the hidden key for the back gate.

Ned, standing on a stool, hung over the opposite wall making conversation with the neighbour’s serving girl. He jumped when
the yard gate creaked open, slid down and continued his task of scrubbing out the big copper still in the yard.

‘I wondered where you were,’ said Susannah ‘There’s no one attending to the shop.’

‘Master’s in the nursery.’ He glanced skyward. ‘Again.’ He turned back to the still.

Jennet was in the scullery peeling potatoes for dinner and safely familiar in her usual brown dress and white collar. ‘Miss
Susannah, what a welcome sight!’

Susannah stood by the warmth of the fire, sniffing the air. ‘You’ve been making jumbals,’ she said.

Jennet sat her down with a mug of ale and a freshly baked sugar cake. ‘You’d best have another when you’ve finished that one,’
she said. ‘You’re as thin as a lath. I was sorry to hear about your husband. The master’s been sick with worry for you.’

Susannah couldn’t stop herself. ‘Not worried enough to visit me though.’

‘He wanted to,’ said Jennet, heaving the pot of potatoes onto the
fire, ‘but the mistress wasn’t having any of it. “You’ll bring the infection back home”, she said.’

‘My quarantine is over now and I’m well.’

‘You don’t look it, if you don’t mind my saying so, miss. Black circles under your eyes. Not sleeping, I suppose.’ A baby
started to cry upstairs, soon joined by his twin. ‘Come to that, none of us are sleeping and the whole household is out of
sorts.’

‘I’ll go up and see Father,’ said Susannah, brushing crumbs off her skirt.

She found Cornelius in her old bedroom, walking back and forth with a howling baby over each shoulder.

His face lit up when he saw her and he hugged her tightly. ‘I thank God you’ve been spared!’

‘Where are the nursemaids?’ shouted Susannah as she relieved her father of one of the twins.

‘The children were quarrelsome and I sent them all out for a walk.’

‘And Arabella?’

‘Lying down. She needs a lot of rest and nourishing food with two babies to feed. There, there, Joshua. Don’t take on so!’

‘I’m sure she does,’ said Susannah wryly.

‘I’m so very happy to see you and so sorry about poor Henry,’ shouted Cornelius, struggling to make himself heard over the
screaming infants. ‘William Ambrose has called several times to tell me how you were going on.’

‘It would have been an even longer and more difficult month without him.’

‘I wanted to come to see you but I could only have stood outside and called up to the window. Still, now you can go out and
about again.’

‘Father …’

‘Shhh! Look!’ Miraculously, little Joshua’s angry cries were settling down into sobs. Cornelius took the baby’s hand and pushed
the tiny thumb into the infant’s mouth.

Joshua closed his eyes and started to suck vigorously.

Susannah tried the same trick with Samuel and in a few moments they were able to put the twins side by side in their crib.
The sudden silence roared in her ears.

Cornelius took her by the hand and they tiptoed from the room. ‘Perhaps I’m getting the hang of it, at last,’ he said. ‘Some
days I’m at my wits’ end and think I cannot go on for all the upset and disturbance. Is it too much to expect a little peace
at my age?’

‘The shop is unattended,’ said Susannah.

‘Ned …’

‘Is in the yard making sheep’s eyes at our neighbour’s maid.’

They went downstairs and Cornelius unlocked the shop door. ‘Nothing is the same since you left,’ he said.

‘That’s what I want to talk to you about, Father. Now that Henry’s gone …’

Cornelius shook his head. ‘Susannah, we both know it wouldn’t work for you to come back here. Everything is different.’

Fear gnawed at her. ‘But I have nowhere to go!’

‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘The house didn’t belong to Henry after all. He merely rented it and the owners are coming back.’

‘But …’ An expression of outrage flitted across Cornelius’s face. ‘Henry assured me that it was his own!’

‘Well, it wasn’t.’

He shook his head. ‘To think I was so deceived! Henry could be such a charmer. But that house is far too large for you on
your own, Susannah. Now that you are a widow you must rent somewhere smaller.’

‘I would have, if Henry hadn’t spent my dowry.’

‘Spent your dowry? What do you mean?’

‘Just that.’

‘But …’ His face turned ashen. ‘But I gave him nearly all my savings. He was intending to offer for Horatia Thynne and I
wanted to secure him for you. I thought he’d make you happy. I wanted you to have a comfortable life and he
promised
me he’d look after you.’ He paced up and down, his breathing suddenly erratic. ‘What little
money I have left I need for my new family. As it is, I shall have to work in the shop until the day I die.’

Susannah felt the panic begin to rise up in her again. ‘But what can I do? Where can I go?’

Cornelius covered his face in his hands. ‘However will we manage? The house is overflowing with children and serving maids;
we’re bursting at the seams. There isn’t even room for you any more in the attics. And you and Arabella and her children will
never live in harmony.’ His shoulders began to heave. ‘What have I done?’ he sobbed. ‘My love for Arabella clouded my judgement
and now …’

‘Shhh!’ Susannah held him and patted his back while she fought down the icy terror that threatened to suffocate her. Father
was right, of course. The strain of living with Arabella again would be intolerable for all of them; if it had been unbearable
before, how much worse would it be now with twin babies and extra nursemaids?

Cornelius wiped his eyes and drew a deep breath. ‘We will have to find a way. Perhaps we could empty the dispensary and put
you a bed behind the curtain?’ He bit his lip. ‘Ned sleeps close by under the counter in the shop but I can’t think how else
…’ Anxiety etched deep lines on his face.

He looks suddenly
old
, Susannah thought with a pang, too old to be so troubled by the discord of squabbling women. She came to a decision. ‘It’s
all right, Father.’ She was surprised how calm she sounded. ‘I can see that my return would be an unendurable burden for us
all. I will have to do what other destitute widows do and find employment as a servant.’

‘My dearest child, I wish there was another way.’ The relief in his voice was tangible. ‘But unless you catch the eye of a
wealthy man I cannot see what other choice there is for you. Except,’ he paused, ‘perhaps you could sell your mother’s pearl
pendant and her miniature?’

‘Never!

‘Then I hope, for your sake, that you’ll find employment soon.’

Trudging home through the frozen streets, tears of mingled fear and resentment blinded Susannah. A beggar woman, huddled in
a
ragged blanket in the gutter, reached out and touched her on the ankle as she passed. Recoiling, Susannah fumbled in her pocket
and dropped a coin in the woman’s hand.

‘Lord bless ya,’ said the beggar, glancing up, her desperate gaze meeting Susannah’s for a second.

Susannah flinched. The woman would have been pretty once, before the French pox started to eat away at her nose. Who had this
miserable wreck of humanity been before she fell on hard times and ended up living in tatters on the street? Had she, too,
run out of choices?

Peg was scraping the steps free of ice when Susannah arrived back home. She looked up from her broom, searched Susannah’s
face then turned back to her task without a word. Poor Peg! Her future, too, relied upon Susannah’s. It was no good moping
about waiting for something to happen. She thawed herself out by the fire, pushed her curls back under her plainest hat and
left the house again.

The following week passed in a daze. Susannah traipsed all over the city, calling upon all the richest people she knew, many
of them her father’s customers. One after the other, they shook their heads at her request for work. In desperation she took
to knocking on the doors of any large house that she came across but no one wanted even a serving maid.