The Apothecary's Daughter (51 page)

Her past and her future both burned before her. ‘Susannah!’

She jerked round, her mouth wide with shock. ‘You stupid, stupid girl!’ William stood before her, his shirt singed and torn.
A muscle flickered in his unshaven jaw, his anger shimmering in the scorched air. He strode forward and crushed her to him,
smothering her face in smoky kisses. ‘What in God’s name were you thinking of?’

His body was warm and he smelled of smoke and sweat. He definitely wasn’t a ghost.

‘William,’ sobbed Susannah, ‘I thought you were dead!’ She clung to him as tightly as a limpet to a rock, touching his face
and breathing him in, unable to believe that she had lost, and found, him again.

He shook her until her teeth rattled, his fingers bruising her arms. ‘How could you have risked
everything
by going into a burning house? Didn’t you hear me shouting at you to keep clear? Stupid, stupid, girl; I could have lost
you!’

‘I saw you on the other side of the flames; I thought you were dead!’

‘I died a thousand deaths when the roof collapsed and I couldn’t reach you. You disappeared in the smoke and I thought it
impossible for you to escape. I’m never, never going to let you out of my sight again!’ He pulled her tight to his chest and
his lips came down hard and urgent on hers.

Gasping, she felt a sweet, painful blossoming in her groin and, half-swooning, she opened her mouth to his.

At last he released her and rested his forehead against hers. ‘You’ve broken down all my defences and worked your way into
my heart in such a way that I would not wish to live without you. This may not be the right time or place but I’m damned if
I’m going to wait any longer. Susannah, will you marry me?’

There was a rushing in her ears and an explosion of happiness in her heart. She glanced over her shoulder at the blazing shop
and the fire raging all around. She thought of her mother and her father and all the happy memories that she held. Those memories
would live on, even if her home no longer existed. She looked into William’s dark eyes, slightly anxious now. A deep peace
descended upon her.

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she said.

‘William! My dearest William!’ Agnes’s voice cracked as she called his name. She pushed herself up out of her chair, her pipe
tumbling to the floor as she reached for him.

He ran and caught her frail body up in his arms, stroking the tears from her cheek with infinite tenderness. ‘You didn’t think
I’d forgotten you, did you?’ He gently deposited her back in her chair.

For once the old lady was speechless, her face working as she fought tears of joy.

William drew up a chair and hugged her bony shoulders, while she clasped his hand as if she’d never let it go.

Tactfully Susannah withdrew. She hurried to her bedchamber, where Phoebe walked the floor with a whimpering Beth in her arms.

‘She miss you,’ said Phoebe as Susannah gathered the babe into her arms and inhaled her milky scent. The events of the past
few hours replayed themselves in her mind and the horror of what might have happened to Beth, if she hadn’t returned, finally
hit home. She began to shake with the aftershock.

‘You find the doctor?’ Phoebe’s face was anxious.

‘Yes, yes I did,’ said Susannah through chattering teeth. ‘He’s
well. But my father’s house has burned.’ She cried then and Phoebe rocked her until the storm had passed.

At last, Susannah wiped her eyes and left Beth in Phoebe’s care while she went down to the kitchen.

She was overjoyed to find Jennet sitting at the kitchen table regaling Mistress Oliver with the tale of her adventures.

‘But where were you, Jennet?’ Susannah asked.

‘The doctor sent me back here to let you know that he’d gone with the Duke of York’s men to fight the fire,’ said Jennet,
‘but on the way I found a lost child. By the time I’d chased her family out to Highgate Village and handed her back to her
mother, two days had passed.’

‘And then you came all the way back here, towards the fire?’

Jennet looked up at her with fear in her face. ‘I had nowhere else to go.’

‘There never was a more loyal servant,’ said Susannah. ‘And I cannot thank you enough for what you did for my father.’

‘I’ll speak to the missus,’ said Mistress Oliver. ‘I need a good kitchen maid to replace Peg. Assuming, of course, that the
Captain’s House isn’t burned down and we still have a kitchen.’

‘The fire
is
coming closer,’ said Susannah, ‘and the wind still fans the flames towards us. If only the wind would change …’ She shuddered
at the thought of losing two homes in one day. ‘I’ll take some food to Dr Ambrose and ask him what we should do.’

She collected a tray of bread and bean soup and returned to Agnes’s bedchamber.

Agnes had recovered her composure but still gripped William’s hand.

‘I thought you’d be hungry, William,’ Susannah said.

He looked up at her with such love shining in his eyes that the world stood still for her.

‘Spoken like a good wife,’ he said.

Agnes gave him a sharp look. ‘Oho! So that’s the way the wind blows, is it? Have you something to tell me, William?’

‘Can’t you guess?’ He smiled broadly, his delight plain for all to see. ‘And I’m not inclined to wait long before we tie the
knot.’

‘So, you managed to catch him after all, miss,’ cackled Agnes. ‘I never thought you would but I’m very happy for you.’

Susannah blushed; Agnes’s approval meant more to her than she had imagined. ‘And I believe you’ve met your match in this one,
William,’ said Agnes.

‘I believe so too.’ He reached for Susannah’s hand. ‘And I’m looking forward to meeting the new addition to our family. I’ll
have my hands full if the babe is half as spirited as her mother.’

‘You must eat first.’

‘It’s been days since I had more than a dry crust of bread.’ He suppressed a yawn. ‘I’m so hungry I could eat enough for an
army.’ He fell on his soup with total concentration and Susannah and Agnes watched him indulgently until he wiped out the
bowl with the last of the bread. He sighed and leaned back.

‘Now that you’re safely home and the doors are closed behind us, it’s easy to forget the fire is still raging out there,’
said Susannah, ‘except for the smoke in the air. Still, we’ve buried the silver in the old well, in case we have to escape
in a hurry.’

‘I can’t do anything in a hurry these days,’ said Agnes, her voice thin and high with fear again.

‘There is the old handcart in one of the storerooms,’ said William. ‘We’ll make you up a comfortable bed and you will be transported
as elegantly as a pasha.’

‘But where will we go?’

William rubbed smuts from eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion, leaving a trail of soot across his cheek. ‘Westwards. Away from
the fire. I’m sure Roger Somerford will find us temporary accommodation at Merryfields.’

‘If only the wind would change direction,’ said Agnes fretfully, ‘then we might be saved.’

Susannah laid a hand on William’s arm. ‘You must rest. And you, too, Agnes, in case we have to leave in a hurry.’

‘I won’t have you out of my sight, Susannah,’ warned William, clasping her hand in his.

‘Then let us leave Agnes to rest. You can wash the soot away and
I’ll dress those burns on your hands. We’ll go to the chapel; you can sleep there. I’ll watch out for the fire and wake you
if necessary.’

Before long, William was installed in Agnes’s favourite chair with a cushion behind his head and Susannah beside him. She
placed a basin of warm water on the table and carefully washed his face and hands. His eyes were closed as she wiped the grime
away and she marvelled at his long, black eyelashes. She smeared the angry red burns on his palms with a marigold salve of
her own making before binding them in clean linen.

As William’s face began to relax Susannah stroked his hair, studying him closely. His arm twitched once or twice and then
he became loose-limbed and his breathing steadied into sleep. She was still shaky with relief at his escape and she hadn’t
even asked him yet how he’d managed it. No matter; time for that later. She smiled to herself, the joy bubbling up inside
her again. They had the whole of the rest of their lives together to talk. Gently, she leaned across and kissed his forehead.

Stationing herself on the window seat, Susannah watched the smoke billowing over the rooftops as the fire edged its way ever
closer. The area between Bridewell and Dorset House was aflame and, unless the wind turned towards the east, once Dorset House
caught they would have to go. She drummed her fingers on the windowsill and wondered how late she dared to leave it be before
she woke William.

Two hours later there was a scratching at the door. Phoebe came in carrying Beth.

Phoebe glanced at William. ‘She hungry,’ she whispered.

Susannah took Beth from her and Phoebe closed the door carefully behind her. William still slept, so Susannah loosened her
bodice to suckle the baby. She murmured sweet nothings to her while she fed, stroking her soft cheek with her finger.

‘That’s as pretty a picture as ever I’ve seen,’ said a sleepy voice.

Susannah started and hastily adjusted her chemise. ‘Did we wake you?’

William yawned, stood up and stretched. ‘That was the best sleep
I’ve had for months. But now I’d like to meet your daughter.’ He held out his arms. ‘May I hold her?’

Bursting with pride, Susannah held Beth out to him.

He took her carefully and cradled her, rocking her gently as she screwed up her face ready to cry. ‘Hush, sweeting!’ He lifted
her up so that her face was on a level with his own and she looked back at him through narrowed eyes. Then she blew a milky
bubble and the corner of her mouth lifted as if in a smile. William laughed. ‘So tiny and so perfect! Have you named her yet?’

‘Elizabeth, after my mother. But I shall call her Beth.’

‘Would you …’ His bit his lip. ‘Would you think it an imposition if I asked you to give her a second name? Since I shall
be the only father she knows, I would dearly love to honour my own mother, too. Her name was Constance.’

‘Elizabeth Constance.’ Emotion made Susannah’s voice quaver. ‘It has a fine ring to it, don’t you think?’

Beth began to fuss and William hoisted her onto his shoulder and walked about the room with her until she settled.

‘You have a way with babies, William.’

‘I always wanted children and thought that it was not to be.’ He hesitated and then said, ‘I don’t want there to be secrets
between us, Susannah. And so I must tell you that, some years ago, I was married.’

‘Agnes told me about Caroline. And the baby she carried.’

‘Did she now?’ His eyes watched her face carefully. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Not now. I was tormented for a while by the thought that you’d never be able to love me for memories of her.’

‘I love you far more than I ever cared for Caroline. She was pretty but capricious. And untrustworthy. I was young then and
not such a good judge of character as I am now.’

‘William?’

‘Yes, my love?’

Her heart began to thud uncomfortably in her chest. ‘You are right; there must be no secrets between us and so I must ask
for your forgiveness.’

‘For what?’

She clasped her hands together to still their trembling; would the truth be too hard for William to forgive? ‘I ask your forgiveness
for not trusting you.’ She saw a small frown begin to gather on his brow but it was too late to draw back. ‘I saw you with
Phoebe that last night before Father was taken ill. You were coming out of her room. And I thought …’

He became very still. ‘You thought I had betrayed you?’

‘I couldn’t believe it but I
saw
you. You were both barefoot and in your night clothes. But it was the way you touched Phoebe’s cheek with such tenderness
that made me believe …’ She stopped at the sight of the hurt written on his face.

‘I’m wounded that you should believe such a thing of me, Susannah. Dammit, I’d told you that very evening that I loved you!
Did you have no faith in me at all?’ He turned away from her and went to stare out of the window at the billowing smoke. ‘I
never felt about Phoebe in that way. Why would I when I loved you?’

‘I know that now, William. Phoebe told me the truth of the matter.’

‘You should have known that without Phoebe telling you so!’

‘But at the time I believed that Joseph was your son …’

‘
My
son!’ He whirled round to face her again. ‘Good God, wherever did you get that impression?’

‘I overheard you talking to Agnes when we first brought Phoebe and Joseph home. I thought that you were telling Agnes that
Joseph was your child. But now I know the truth of the matter.’

‘And all these months I’ve been trying to protect you from the knowledge that he’s Henry’s son!’

‘It doesn’t have the power to hurt me now. In fact,’ she gave him a hesitant little smile, ‘I was in raptures when Phoebe
told me because it meant that Joseph wasn’t your child, as I believed.’

‘And yet you still loved me, supposing all the while that he was?’ She nodded. ‘Yes, but you can’t know the torments of jealousy
I suffered over Phoebe.

‘In fact I do have an idea since my own imagination painted vivid
pictures of you in Henry’s arms.’ He sighed. ‘Susannah, that night when I went to tend to poor little Joseph I felt sorry
for Phoebe. She had loved Henry with all her heart and he’d gone. She was alone and frightened and all she had left was her
son. He’d been so violently ill she’d thought he might die too.’

‘So, will you forgive me?’ she asked in a small voice.

‘Come here!’ He caught her to him and kissed her nose. ‘Your confession has answered one question for me.’

‘It has?’

‘I understood you were grieving for your father but I did wonder why you were often so disagreeable to me while I was in quarantine.’

‘I shall try to make it up to you,’ said Susannah.

‘I’m sure I can find a way,’ he said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

She glanced out of the window at the sun, now beginning to drop in the smoky sky. ‘It’s going to be difficult to run from
the fire with an old lady and a baby, all in the dark.’