The Apothecary's Daughter (23 page)

Sick with exhaustion and fear, she took to her bed and lay huddled under the covers, shutting out the world.

Peg brought her bowls of soup that she couldn’t eat and brushed her hair until she slept again.

‘You’re so kind to me, Peg,’ whispered Susannah, too exhausted to lift her head. ‘I’m so tired I hardly know how to go on
but I must! Time is running out and before we know it Mr Radlett will be hammering on the door ready to throw us out. There
must be
someone
looking for a housekeeper and a maid.’

‘No one wants servants now,’ said Peg. ‘I’ve asked everyone I know but there are hundreds of girls living on the streets since
their
masters left London to escape the pestilence.’ Her lip trembled. ‘I shall have to go back to Moor Fields and knock on Mrs
McGregor’s door in Cock Lane.’

‘You cannot!’

‘What else can I do? What else can
you
do?’

Susannah had no answer to that.

The long freeze continued but, nevetheless, fear for the future drove her to continue her quest for employment, however lowly
the position. But still no one would take her on and whether the refusals were indifferent, rude or apologetic, it was all
the same to her.

Dusk was falling when she returned home. Snow had been drifting down all afternoon covering the frozen filth of the streets
in a clean white blanket and muffling all sound. Now it began to fall in earnest, great flakes twisting to the ground. Very
few people were about. Exhaustion slowed Susannah’s steps and she found herself longing to lie down and let the snow enfold
her in its pillowy embrace.

Her feet were numb with cold as they crunched through the snow and she was light-headed from lack of sustenance. She thought
she was near home but everything looked different under the snow. Suddenly confused, she turned round but snowflakes whirled
before her eyes and the light was fading fast. Panic set in and she began to run, desperate to find the house before dark
fell completely. She slipped and fell headlong, the force of the fall crushing the breath out of her.

Once she had heaved the air into her lungs again she was too tired to do more than lie still, the cold seeping into the inmost
recesses of her body. It was a blessed relief to close her eyes and surrender consciousness.

Something warm and wet washed her face. Opening her eyes she saw a large brown dog staring at her from a few inches away.
There was a shout and a stone landed with a sound like a pistol shot on the frozen ground beside her; the dog yelped and ran
away. A light
appeared, bobbing up and down as it approached. Then hands pulled at her and she was hoisted upwards like a sack of potatoes.
She hung, bent over double, with her arms and head dangling. Confused, she watched her hat fall off into the snow and disappear
from view as she was carried away.

It was the burning of pins and needles in her extremities that awoke her. Fire flickered orange in the grate and the heat
seeping into her fingers and toes made her cry out as they thawed. At the sound of her voice a figure on the other side of
the fire stood up, casting a dark shadow up the walls. Susannah shrank back, her mouth dry.

‘It’s all right. You’re safe.’ William Ambrose took her hands and rubbed them between his own. His touch was gentle but his
expression was remote.

‘What happened?’

‘I called upon you and your maid was anxious. A blizzard was blowing up so I went to look for you.’

‘I couldn’t find the house.’

‘You were only on the other side of the courtyard. Wherever did you think you were going?’

‘I didn’t lose my way on purpose!’ Susannah winced as Ambrose flexed her fingers. She’d have chilblains again.

He let go of her hand and sat back in the chair. ‘Susannah, this has got to stop now. You can’t spend day after day trudging
around looking for work.’

‘So what do you suggest?’ Anger made her ball up her fists. ‘A little walk down to Whitechapel or Wapping, perhaps? I understand
the sailors are always looking for new girls. Why, they may even overlook my age if the candle is held low.’

The shock on Ambrose’s face gave Susannah some small satisfaction. How
dare
he pass judgement on her?

‘I don’t presume to pass judgement on you,’ he said quietly, just as if he’d heard her thoughts.

‘I have to do
something
. It would have put an intolerable strain
upon my father if I had gone back to my old home. There is simply no room for me. And Henry has left me destitute and so I
must find some other means of support.’ A tear ran down her cheek and she buried her face in her hands.

‘Susannah, you have to think of the future now.’ He rested a hand on her arm but she shook it off.

‘What do you
suppose
I’ve been doing? I can’t eat or sleep for worrying about it. I’ve knocked on almost every door in the city begging for work.
And there are still Henry’s debts to settle. If you’re so clever, tell me what more I can do?’

‘My aunt is right; you are an obstinate girl. She made you a perfectly good offer.’

‘Which I refused.’ Susannah lifted her chin. That had been a bad mistake but she was damned if she’d let this insufferably
interfering doctor know that she knew it.

‘The time is past for false pride. You have another to consider.’

‘Peg? Do you think I don’t know that? Everywhere I’ve been I’ve asked for a position for her, too.’

‘I’m not talking about Peg. Susannah, you must face facts.’

‘What facts? That in a few days Peg and I will be living on the streets, or if we’re really lucky we’ll find a place in a
workhouse? I think I’d rather visit Mistress McGregor in Cock Lane and throw myself upon her charity.’

‘Mistress McGregor? What do you know of her?’ asked William, his tone sharp.

‘She took Peg in then tried to put her to work in her brothel. Can you imagine? Peg’s little more than a child! She scrambled
out of a window and tumbled to the ground in front of Henry, who brought her home to be our maid.’

‘I see.’ Ambrose stared into the fire. ‘Susannah, is it possible you haven’t realised …’ He stood up and paced the floor
with his hands thrust deep into his pockets. ‘Peg tells me that you aren’t eating properly.’

Susannah shrugged. ‘I’m so worried that I can’t eat. Food makes me retch.’

‘And you are tired?’

‘Bone weary. Sleep eludes me.’

‘And Peg also tells me …’ He hesitated.

‘What right have you to discuss me with my maid?’

‘I will do whatever is necessary to ensure my patients’ good health.’

‘But I am not your patient.’

He raised one eyebrow and she had the grace to blush. ‘Peg tells me that she has not washed your monthly rags this past two
months.’

Susannah’s mouth fell open. ‘She talked to you about such intimate matters?’

‘Reluctantly. But I am a doctor and she has your well-being at heart. As I do. She is worried about you. Susannah, you must
know that you are carrying Henry’s child?’

‘Henry’s child?’

‘It’s not such a surprising thing, is it?’

‘No! Oh please, no!’ Spots of light flickered at the edge of her vision and William Ambrose’s voice calling her name faded
away. As the blackness engulfed her she understood that, even though Henry was dead, he was still able to deal her another
blow.

The Thames was close enough for her to hear the raucous cries of the ferrymen and for the stink of the mud at low tide to
permeate the air as Susannah picked her way through the frozen mire in Whyteladies Lane. Gulls wheeled overhead in a leaden
sky. Jostled this way and that by the stream of people passing by, she kept her gaze upwards, searching for a particular signboard.
At last she saw it, a faded sign painted with a ship’s wheel which swung from the jettied first floor of a single-gabled house
crowded in amongst similarly ancient dwellings.

Susannah lifted the dolphin’s head knocker of the Captain’s House and let it fall. As the sound echoed inside, she peered
through the grille in the door but no light appeared to penetrate. This wasn’t at all what she had expected. After a few moments
no one had arrived and she deliberated upon whether she should knock again or wait a while longer. Agnes Fygge, crippled as
she was, might need plenty of time to reach the door.

A cart trundled down the lane, throwing up a wake of slush onto Susannah’s skirt; by the time she had shaken off the worst
of it the door had clicked open. The entrance passage was empty and she stood shivering on the doorstep waiting for her eyes
to adjust to the gloom. A small sound, a suppressed giggle she thought, made her take a step forward.

‘Hello?’

Silence.

In front of her was a whisper of movement in the shadows and then she heard it again. Definitely a giggle. ‘ Mistress Fygge?’

After a moment a flash of white appeared briefly in the gloom.

‘Who’s there?’ She began to make out a black form in front of her. Unable to believe what she was seeing, she squinted into
the dark at the two-headed monster taking shape before her eyes.

A deep, rich chuckle reverberated along the passage and then came a sudden piercing shriek as part of the monster flew free
and launched itself at Susannah, landing on her shoulder with a thud.

Terror made her heart somersault as she screamed and flailed at the thing that had attached itself to her, pulling at her
hair and pinching her cheeks.

‘Emmanuel!’ Agnes Fygge’s voice called sharply from the back of the passageway. ‘Take that spawn of Satan and get out of my
sight!’

The monster loomed closer and snatched at the creature on Susannah’s shoulder.

Blinking in shock, she saw that the ‘monster’ was a burly man, an African in a blue velvet coat. In his brawny arms he held
a small monkey, dressed in a matching blue velvet coat and a little skullcap. Both wore silver collars round their necks.
The black man smiled and his teeth flashed white in the darkness before he turned and carried the chattering monkey away.

‘So you’ve come, then?’ said Agnes Fygge. ‘Follow me, unless your wits have been addled by that boy up to his tricks again?’
She turned and hobbled away, leaving the quivering Susannah to follow or not, as she chose.

Susannah glanced behind her at the open door and the busy lane outside. It was tempting. Sighing, she slipped off her clogs
and closed the door behind her.

Mistress Fygge pulled aside a tapestry curtain to reveal a shadowy staircase and began to haul herself painfully up the winding
stairs. There was a strong smell of smoking fires. At the top she pushed open the door with her stick and light flooded onto
the landing. She
turned to see if Susannah was following before limping through the doorway.

The first impression that Susannah had was of the light and space and then of the great heat. She stood open-mouthed and stared
about her. The dark and draughty passageway had given no hint of what to expect in the chamber upstairs. The ceiling soared
high above her, supported by beams like the ribcage of a whale. Daylight poured in through tall, narrow windows with tops
shaped like clover leaves. In a vast stone fireplace which took up most of the end wall a fire in was roaring away, the flames
leaping up the chimney and smoke spiralling up to the apex of the ceiling.

‘It’s a church!’ breathed Susannah.

‘A chapel, in fact. This was once a priory.’ Mistress Fygge lowered herself carefully into the great chair beside the fireplace
and motioned Susannah to take the smaller chair opposite. She waved the smoke away from her face and coughed. ‘Wind’s in the
east again. So, Henry has left you a memento of himself?’

Susannah bowed her head, terror threatening to rise up and choke her. Even thinking about the baby growing inside her made
her shake with fear.

‘What are you looking so sick about?’

‘I hadn’t expected … It was a shock to realise that I’m carrying a child. I’ve been so anxious about the future that the possibility
of it didn’t occur to me. And I don’t know how I shall manage. Especially now. I had expected to return to my father’s home
but …’