The Apothecary's Daughter (29 page)

The boatman pulled away, the sun warm enough already to raise beads of sweat on his brow as he rowed upstream. The river was
congested with ferry boats and barges loaded with coal or timber
and the boatman had to keep his wits about him to prevent a collision.

Susannah found plenty to interest her as they passed Somerset House and the New Exchange and then Whitehall and West min ster.
Soon she was able to forget the stench of the river, becoming mesmerised by the sun making diamonds of the drips falling from
the oars. The regular
squeak-thunk
as the boatman strained at the rowlocks was curiously soothing as they surged through the water.

Before long they left behind the busy stretch of river and the air became fresher. Trees, newly clothed in green, dipped their
branches into the turgid depths of the water and ducks paddled alongside, quacking raucously. Emmanuel lay face down at the
back of the boat, trailing his fingers and snatching at floating leaves. Every so often he turned to give Susannah a broad
smile over his shoulder.

William intercepted one of the boy’s smiles and his own lips twitched in amusement. ‘It would appear I have unwittingly given
two inmates of the Captain’s House a free pass out of gaol for the day.’

‘For all his size, Emmanuel is no more than a boy,’ said Susannah. ‘He chafes at being confined.’

‘My aunt has kept him by her side for too long. It’s time he was put to work where he can use his strength.’

Susannah wondered if William planned to send Emmanuel away, having persuaded Agnes that Joseph could take his place. No doubt
he would wish to keep his son by his side. ‘But what else could Emmanuel do?’ she asked.

‘He should be sent back to the plantation.’

Impulsively Susannah reached out and clutched at William’s sleeve. ‘Please, don’t do that! He’s terrified of being sent to
work in the fields. His father died horribly after the overseer beat him.’

William raised his eyebrows. ‘I should have thought he would be happiest back in Barbados but it is true that life as a field
hand is hard for those who do not obey.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘You take an interest in the boy?’

‘I have come to know him well after all the hours we spend together in Agnes’s company. I had not imagined I would ever become
friends with an African but in many ways he is no different from how I remember my brother, Tom.’

‘And now Joseph is to take Emmanuel’s place. Will you take an interest in him, too?’

‘Why, yes, I suppose I will.’ How could she
not
be interested in a child who was the product of such an unusual union?

‘Perhaps you will teach him his lessons?’

Susannah opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. She had been about to ask if an African child, or half-African anyway,
was capable of learning to read but it seemed an impolite question since Joseph was William’s son.

‘Do I surmise that you were about to ask if Joseph is intelligent enough to learn his lessons?’

‘I have little experience by which to judge him,’ said Susannah in as cool a voice as she could manage. Damn him! How did
he so often know what she was thinking?

‘I believe him entirely capable of learning to read and I believe you are entirely capable of teaching him.’

‘I’m honoured,’ she said drily.

‘Think nothing of it.’

Susannah was surprised to see an impish gleam in his eye.

‘It would be a challenge for you and help to pass the time when my aunt is dozing by the fire. Besides, it would please me
to see the boy educated. Perhaps, in time, it will allow him to have a better life. Like Emmanuel, he cannot remain a page
for ever.’

‘No, I can see that. But what else could he do?’

‘He might find work as a superior servant. But, of course, he is your slave to do with as you see fit.’

‘Not while I am dependent upon Agnes to keep him. Besides, I don’t like the idea of owning another human being. I hadn’t thought
about it until I came to know Emmanuel. Surely it cannot be right that men and women are stolen from their homes to be sold
into slavery, can it?’

‘I agree with you but others would not. Whole fortunes are built upon slavery.’

‘Joseph is only a child and if I sold him his new master might not be kind to him.’

‘You could free him.’

‘But not until he has grown up and has some means of supporting himself.’

‘Exactly! So we come back to education.’

‘Yes, I see,’ said Susannah thoughtfully. ‘I will do the best I can to help him.’

It was noon when they arrived at their destination. The boatman tied up at a landing stage nestling in amongst bulrushes and
Susannah and her companions climbed out. There was little to see apart from trees and fields on the opposite bank. William
took her arm. ‘Take care!’ At the end of the landing stage was a door set into the wall. He took a key from his pocket and
opened it.

Susannah stepped through the gate into a large orchard. The trees were clouded with blossom whose fragrant perfume scented
the air. The grass was long and the hem of her skirt was soon sodden but she barely noticed as she exclaimed in delight at
the wildflowers that grew so prolifically amongst the grass. A beehive stood a little way off and the sound of the bees hummed
all around.

‘When I was a boy I spent many a happy hour sitting in the branches of this old apple tree,’ said William, smiling. ‘And I
learned to my cost not to be greedy with unripe plums from that tree over there. But come, we will go up to the house.’

Susannah marvelled that William was suddenly so approachable and at ease with himself. Perhaps this was the effect Merryfields
had upon him?

They left the orchard and walked arm in arm along an avenue of clipped yew trees standing like sentries on either side of
the gravel path. Facing them at the end of the avenue was a large house built of brick the colour of faded damask roses, with
high gables and tall, twisted chimneys

‘Merryfields,’ said William.

Susannah smiled. ‘It’s beautiful!’

‘Isn’t it? Emmanuel, run up to the house and tell Mr Somerford that we have arrived.’

‘If this was my house I should want to live here,’ said Susannah.

‘Merryfields deserves a family to bring it to life. And I am needed in London.’

‘Could you not also be of use as a country doctor?’

‘Are you trying to be rid of me?’

‘No, of course not!’ She stopped, seeing that he was smiling. He was teasing her.
Teasing
her! She had come to respect him, to like him, but she never expected him to unbend to this extent.

Roger Somerford, William’s tenant, a jocular middle-aged man with a warm smile, came to greet them.

‘May I introduce my kinswoman,’ said William. ‘Mistress Savage accompanied me today to escape from the noxious air of the
city for a few hours.’

‘My wife and daughters are away from home at present,’ said Roger Somerford, a worried frown on his forehead, ‘and, therefore,
unable to entertain you while Dr Ambrose and I conclude our business.’

‘Please, do not concern yourself,’ said Susannah. ‘If I may, I’ll take a turn around the garden and sit quietly in the sunshine.’

‘Your blackamoor may go to the kitchen for some refreshment and I will have my servants set up a table in the knot garden
and bring you some cakes and ale.’

‘I should like that very much.’

The two men, followed by Emmanuel, walked towards the house and disappeared inside.

Susannah wandered along the paths, stopping to inhale the scent of an early flowering honeysuckle and to examine an urn planted
with exotic flowering bulbs from Holland.

After a while Emmanuel came running to tell her that refreshments were waiting for her and she followed him to the knot garden
where a small table had been set up on the gravel amongst the clipped box hedges. A young maid waited to offer her a finger
bowl
and a fresh napkin and to pour her some ale and press her to eat a cake or two. After the girl had returned to the kitchens,
Susannah ate two of the delicious little cakes, which were sprinkled with walnuts and sugar, licking her fingertip and collecting
up the last crumbs.

Emmanuel watched her with hungry brown eyes and she teased him a little as her hand hovered over the last cake. Then she relented
and handed it to Emmanuel. ‘Stay here and enjoy it. I want to walk a little on my own.’

‘Yes, missus,’ he said, beaming. ‘Thank you, missus.’

She dropped her napkin and bent down to retrieve it. As she sat up again she was aware of Emmanuel’s gaze fixed upon the low
neckline of her gown and flushed, conscious that pregnancy had magnified her usually modest décolletage. She supposed Emmanuel
had reached an age when such things were of interest to him.

Rising from her chair without catching his eye, she went to explore a shady alley of pleached limes, which led to a pool with
a splashing fountain in the centre. She let the cool water run through her fingers and then spied a stone bench in the sunshine
by the garden wall. She sat down, revelling in the peace and quiet, so different from London where the sounds of the city
were always present. It was a secret and special place that no one outside these garden walls would even know existed. How
was it possible for William to own Merryfields and bear not to live there, she wondered?

She reached out to pinch the needle-like leaves of a lavender bush and sniffed at the sharp, clean scent upon her fingers.
Behind the lavender bush grew tall stems of wormwood; she stood up to stroke their feathery fronds. As she looked more closely
she saw mint and thyme thrusting new shoots through the blanket of weeds. A physic garden! Unable to resist, she pulled up
a handful of chick-weed and used a stick to pry loose a dandelion root. The soil was sun-warmed in her fingers and she was
possessed with a wonderful sense of well-being.

It was as she tugged at a plantain that it happened. Nothing more
than a flutter at first and then a more insistent tapping. She dropped the weed and pressed her hands to her stomach. There
it was again!

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. She sat down on the bench, her knees suddenly weak. She closed her eyes against the sun, waiting quietly;
stars appeared on the inside of her eyelids and then she felt the tiny movement again.

She blinked away tears, her arms wrapped tightly round her waist. Her child was letting her know that it was alive and kicking!
The wonder of the moment took her by complete surprise and she was overcome with shame that she had tried for so long to deny
the infant’s very existence. This was a real person in the making, as real as herself, with a soul of its own. ‘I’m sorry,’
she whispered. ‘Forgive me!’

She pulled from her bodice the black ribbon with Henry’s wedding ring threaded upon it. It was too late for Henry to know
his child but she vowed then to give their baby enough love for both of them.

Footsteps crunched on gravel and she looked up to see William walking briskly along the path. She longed to share her sense
of wonder with him but emotion made her face crumple.

‘Susannah, you’re crying!’ He gripped her shoulder and kneeled down on the path to look into her face.

He was close enough for her to see flecks of gold in his dark eyes. It felt natural to her to lean her head so that her cheek
rested upon his hand. She closed her eyes as she luxuriated in the warmth of his skin against her own.

‘Susannah, my dear, what is it?’

She took a deep breath and wiped away her tears. ‘Do not concern yourself, I am quite well. But the most marvellous thing
has happened! My baby has quickened.’ She smiled tremulously at him, anxious to share with him the gift of this perfect moment.

He saw the ribbon clasped in her fist and pulled it free. He stared down at her wedding ring. ‘Do you miss him?’ he asked,
his face curiously expressionless.

How could she answer that with the truth? To say that she barely
thought about Henry would appear callous in the extreme. ‘I am sorry that my child will not know his father,’ she said at
last. ‘But I am not afraid any more. I cannot explain it but now I’m sure my baby and I will both survive.’

‘There is no reason at all why you should not.’ William stood up and roughly brushed gravel from his breeches.

‘My mother died in childbed,’ she said. All at once it seemed imperative that she should confide in him, to make him understand.
‘It was a brutal death and the baby died in the most horrible way imaginable.’ She paused to take a steadying breath. ‘I have
always been deathly afraid that I should suffer the same fate.’

‘Medical care is much better now than in your mother’s time.’

His brusque tone made her uncomfortable. ‘Look!’ she said in an effort to recapture his former relaxed mood. ‘I’ve found a
herb garden. It’s overgrown but I’ve pulled up some of the weeds.’

He leaned over to look at the ground and his expression softened. ‘My mother planted this when I was no more than eight years
old. I remember helping her to gather herbs for the still room.’

‘How lucky she was to have such a delightful garden!’

‘But not lucky enough to survive to enjoy it.’

They stood in silence for a while, each alone with their melancholy thoughts while Susannah’s happy mood evaporated like morning
mist.

‘It’s time to go,’ said William shading his eyes against the sun. ‘Where has that damned boy got to?’

‘Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!’

She was laughing and running through a dark tunnel of trees, towards the light. At the end of the tunnel she stopped, blinking
in the sunshine while she scanned the garden. A drift of mist lifted from the damp ground and, stretched across a branch,
a spider’s web was threaded with diamonds of dew. The door to the orchard was ajar and she slipped through it, walking barefoot
through the long grass, the hem of her skirt heavy with moisture. A blackbird, sitting on a branch above her, uttered a warning
cry and flitted off to a safer perch, silent now but still watching her with beady eyes.