The Apothecary's Daughter (40 page)

‘William will join us for supper tonight,’ she said.

‘Is that why you’re looking so fine?’ The old woman’s eyes gleamed with amusement at Susannah’s blush. ‘Don’t think I haven’t
noticed the way you look at each other. But don’t set your hopes too high, miss. William is a hard nut to crack for any female
with designs upon him. And in your condition …’

‘I assure you …’

Agnes held up her hand. ‘You’re not the first to be interested. But I warn you that he had his fingers burned once and is
unlikely to commit himself to any woman again.’

‘Again?’ Susannah bit her lip.

Agnes cackled in amusement. ‘You’re dying to ask me, aren’t you? Well, I shall put you out of your misery. His wife betrayed
him.’

William had a wife! She sank down onto a chair, suddenly ice-cold.

‘Don’t look like that!’ said Agnes. ‘The silly girl ran away with William’s so-called best friend. She fell off the horse
as they galloped away into the night, broke her neck and killed herself. And the babe she was carrying. William never was
sure if the child Catherine carried was his.’

‘How very dreadful for him!’ Susannah was deeply ashamed at the relief she felt.

‘Said he’d never trust a woman again. The experience made him dour. After that he went off to Barbados to forget her betrayal
and there’s not been a woman since who’s caught his fancy. So don’t think that putting on a pretty gown is sufficient to encourage
him to make a proposal.’

Susannah handed Agnes the hand mirror, while she wondered if the death of William’s traitorous wife was what had made him
seek solace in Phoebe’s accommodating arms.

Still downcast by Agnes’s comments when William arrived home, Susannah found it impossible to meet his eyes. Unusually good-humoured,
he sat beside his aunt and engaged her in a lively discussion on the Dutch trade routes.

Phoebe, carrying a tray loaded with the supper dishes, pushed the door open with her hip and set the table in her usual unhurried
fashion.

Susannah watched her, imagining her dressed in ochre silk with her head wrapped in an exotic gold turban and with gold bracelets
upon her wrist instead of a silver collar round her neck. The woman moved with an easy grace, her figure attractively curved
now that she wasn’t half-starved. It wasn’t hard any more to imagine that William could find her alluring.

She shot a sideways glance at William, who smiled at Phoebe as she filled his glass and placed a clean napkin beside him.
Jealousy bored into her like a sharp spike.

William continued arguing companionably with Agnes, but he barely looked at Susannah at all.

Susannah pushed cold mutton and pickle around her plate, too despondent to swallow a morsel. She had so looked forward to
an opportunity to enjoy William’s company and he scarcely spoke to her except to ask her to pass the salt.

Once they had finished supper William excused himself with a bland smile and went to his study.

Agnes decided to retire early.

Dejected, Susannah accompanied Agnes to her bedchamber and helped her to undress. Folding her mistress’s gown and putting
it away in the linen press, she had to suppress a smile when she found the box of sugar plums almost empty. The old lady certainly
had a sweet tooth.

‘You’re very quiet this evening. I’ve upset you, haven’t I?’ said Agnes. ‘There’s no cause to sulk because I speak my mind.
It’s not that I would be entirely against such a match, you understand …’

‘There has been no mention of such a thing!’

‘I have the eyes to see and I know where your heart is leading
you, miss. As I was saying, it’s not that I’d be against such a match, but I believe it to be unlikely William will ever make
such a commitment again.’

Susannah took her time in folding the rest of Agnes’s clothes and avoided meeting her inquisitive gaze. ‘I do not look for
such a commitment from my husband’s cousin,’ she lied.

Agnes cackled with laughter. ‘But it would be mighty convenient, wouldn’t it?’

‘My most pressing concern now is to be safely delivered of Henry’s child,’ Susannah said with all the dignity she could muster.

‘Ah, well. It is true that childbirth is a dangerous time for a woman and I shall pray for you.’

‘Thank you.’ Outwardly calm, Susannah trembled inside, reminded again of her old fears.

‘Good night, Susannah.’

‘Sleep well, Agnes.’

Susannah closed the bedchamber door behind her with a sigh of relief. As she went along the passage the door to William’s
study opened. He stood in front of her, his eyes glittering like jet in the candlelight.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘I wanted to tell you how lovely you look tonight.’

Her spirits lifted in an instant. ‘I thought you didn’t care to notice me this evening?’

‘I know my aunt and she was watching us. But there are some things best hidden from interfering old busybodies, don’t you
think?’ He took the candlestick from her and placed it carefully on the hall chest. Turning to face her again, he lightly
brushed her cheek with his knuckles.

His touch shot an arrow of longing deep into Susannah’s pelvis. Warmth rose up her body, leaving every nerve tingling and
yearning for him. Slowly she turned her face to kiss his fingers, watching his eyes grow heavy-lidded with desire.

He let out a small sigh and drew her to him.

Stumbling against his chest, her knees suddenly liquescent, she
felt the drumbeat of his heart against her breast as he put his arms round her.

William rested his chin on her forehead and they swayed together in the shadowy corridor for a moment as long as eternity.

A quiet happiness settled upon Susannah, a deep certainty that she was where she was destined to be.

Entwining his hands in her hair, he tipped her face up to his. His mouth was hot and Susannah trembled as she felt the hardness
of his body pressed against her own. Aching for him, she returned his kisses with fervour, not caring if he thought her wanton.

At last, he drew a shuddering breath and cupped her face in his hands. ‘My lovely, sweet Susannah,’ he whispered. ‘You must
know that I have grown to love you?’

Joy erupted within her and she turned her face up to his again.

But he gently removed her arms from his neck and kissed her fingers. ‘It’s no good,’ he said. ‘You’re too lovely to resist.
I must go now, before I forget my manners entirely.’

Before she had time to recover her breath he’d retreated into his study and closed the door.

Heart singing, she sank against the wall, her fingers touching her bruised mouth where she could still feel the burning heat
of his kisses.
He had said he loved her!

Sleep was a long time coming that night. Susannah paced around her bedchamber and then leaned against the window watching
the bats swoop and flitter over the garden by the light of the moon. The night air was sultry and she was suffocated by her
long linen nightgown. Pulling at the neck ties, she dragged it over her head and let it fall to the ground. She opened the
window wide and let the air play over her naked body while she relived William’s kisses. Hot with longing, she wished that
he
had
forgotten his manners.

She smiled to herself in the darkness, imagining his hands on her naked back, her breasts … Their wedding night would be so
different from the mortification she had experienced with Henry. She knew
with every fibre of her being that there were heights of pleasure to be found with William that she had never experienced.
But then a little worm of unease began to gnaw at her. Was Agnes right? Although he’d said he loved her, did he intend marriage
or simply to make her his mistress? Could she capture his heart and hope for marriage where others had failed? And if he wouldn’t
marry her could she, or would she, settle for a life as his kept woman? These fretful thoughts rolled round and round in her
mind like a suckling pig on a spit.

When at last exhaustion overcame her she lay down on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

A current of air dragged Susannah back to semi-consciousness. She sighed and turned over, still half asleep. Beginning to
drift off again, the click of the latch made her jerk awake and she started up, clutching at the sheet to cover her nakedness.
A breeze had risen and stirred the curtains at the window. Then the bedchamber door moved a little in the draught. She distinctly
remembered closing it. Someone must have lifted the latch and failed to close it properly. Had William visited her room and
watched her, naked, while she slept? Such a thought made her burn with shame and excitement. It was some time before she fell
asleep again.

Later, she was awoken again by muted voices. Holding her breath, she strained her ears. A mere whisper of sound, bare feet
on boards, made her sit up. She snatched up her nightshift and threw it over her head before stealing into the corridor. It
was silent and deserted in the pale dawn light but the tapestry that hung at the turn of the corridor stirred slightly, as
if someone had passed by in haste. She crept along the passage and looked round the corner but all she could see were closed
doors.

She opened each door in turn but every room was empty save for dust-sheeted furniture. Standing stock-still, she listened
into the silence but only heard the singing in her ears. Then there came the distinct sound of a woman’s cough and the floorboards
above her creaked.

Hurrying to the attic staircase, she climbed the stairs. Perhaps Peg had been unhappy with her new master and had secretly
returned? But Peg’s garret was as she had seen it last, silent and devoid of all possessions except for the thin blanket folded
at the foot of the bed.

It was then that she heard the scrape of a door opening. Holding her breath, she looked through the crack in Peg’s doorway.
Surely it was too early even for Phoebe to be starting her duties?

Whispering voices made her catch her breath. What she saw then made her press her knuckles to her mouth to stop herself from
crying out.

William, with bare feet and dressed in no more than his nightgown, came out of Phoebe’s room.

Phoebe was silhouetted in the lighted doorway, the swell of her full breasts and the curve of her hips clearly discernible
under her thin shift.

William put his hands on her shoulders and murmured something to her. She nodded, her liquid brown eyes gazing up at his.
He touched her cheek and she covered his hand with her own as he whispered something to her that Susannah could not hear.

Phoebe smiled tremulously back at him.

Susannah felt as if she had been gutted with a red-hot filleting knife.
How could he?
She wrapped her arms round her belly and held back a cry of anguish.

William padded across the corridor and went silently down the stairs.

Susannah began to shake so violently that her teeth chattered and she moved blindly away from the door. As she turned, she
caught the latch with her sleeve and froze as the sound reverberated into the silence.

Phoebe crossed the landing and pushed the door wide open, She stood there for a moment, her face impassive.

Susannah could not speak; her distress at what she had witnessed was too agonising to bear.

Then Phoebe went back into her room. She closed the door softly but not before Susannah had seen the look of triumph on her
face.

Bedlinen washed early that morning and draped over a line in the garden had already dried stiff in the sizzling noonday sun.
Clouds floated across the sky but in the shelter of the cloisters the breeze barely stirred the heavy air.

Despair lodged like a stone under Susannah’s breastbone and her baby kicked and stretched against her diaphragm so that she
could hardly breathe. The humiliating encounter with Phoebe replayed itself again and again in her mind’s eye. She tormented
herself with the thought that if she had followed William into his study earlier that evening, if she had offered herself
to him, he would have had no need to seek his pleasures in Phoebe’s bed.