The Apothecary's Daughter Part 16

Lilly looked at her, brows raised.

"He's under the cat's paw, that one is," Polly explained. "He's never been able to manage Hetta. Always insists she is as qualified as any man in the row."

The woman named Hetta covered her face and disappeared back into the shop. Finally the beadle brought out a large armful of dried herbs, stuck bunches in crevices among the rubble, and heaped the rest on top. A few seconds later he returned once more from inside the shop, this time bearing a smoldering stick of tinder, which he put to rapid use. The herbs smoked for a few seconds and then, fed by the alcohol in several of the syrups, leapt to angry life, the fire devouring the wood and filling the narrow street with pungent smoke.

Lilly stared. The flames and smoke rose to both frame and obscure the sign hanging above the desecrated shop. J. W Fry, Apothecary. Though the heated air touched her skin where she stood, Lilly s.h.i.+vered.

A certain n.o.ble lord had brought his health into a very critical state and the physicians recommended marriage as the most certain method of restoring his const.i.tution.

THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE, 1769

CHAPTER 13.

illy flipped through the letters on the silver tray on the i sideboard.

"Strange," she muttered.

Her aunt peered at her over the half-spectacles she wore for reading. "What is, my dear?"

"I wrote to my father nearly a fortnight ago and have yet to receive a response.

Lilly had at last written a few lines to her father the same day she had finally sent a note to Mary to wish her old friend a happy birthday.

Her aunt refolded her own letter. "Perhaps he is busy. Or the post was delayed."

"I do hope he is all right." Though she had not seen her father in over a year, they had corresponded regularly. Her planned visit last Christmas had been canceled when her aunt came down with a worrisome fever. Lilly had stayed in town to nurse her, and somehow the visit home had never been rescheduled.

"Of course he is. He would send word if there was anything amiss, would he not?"

"I hope so." Now that Lilly thought of it, his letters had become increasingly infrequent.

Her aunt slit open a second letter and began to read. She looked up at Lilly again, eyes bright.

"My dear, you will not believe it!"

"What is it? I have rarely seen you so animated."

"The Bromleys have accepted our invitation to dine with us on Sat.u.r.day. They must realize Roger has selected you particularly. This is a most telling attention, to be sure."

"But we invited them."

Ruth Elliott went on undeterred, "Mark my words, Lillian. Roger Bromley will very soon be making you an offer."

"Oh, Aunt, I do not think so."

Lilly had hoped for such from Mr. Bromley since the end of last season. For beyond wis.h.i.+ng to please her aunt by making a good match, she genuinely liked him. But now, with Susan Whittier on the scene, Lilly had all but given up that hope. Depressing though it was to lose the man's gallant addresses, Dr. Graves's attentions had served to lessen her disappointment.

"My deara" Aunt Elliott removed her spectacles. "Tell me you will not reject Roger Bromley in favor of that Graves fellow."

Would she? Had she not given him leave to speak to her uncle on her behalf believing Mr. Bromley lost to her?

Her aunt leaned closer. "Lillian, if Roger Bromley proposes, promise me you'll not let the likes of Dr. Graves spoil your chance at an excellent marriage. Your uncle and I are offering a substantial dowry and annual allowance. The Bromleys will have nothing to object to on that account."

Though on several others, Lilly thought, but forbore to say so. "That is very generous. I had no idea."

"What more can we do to show you our feelings?" Tears s.h.i.+mmered in her aunt's eyes. "We look upon you as our daughter and desire your every happiness. We will do all within our power to see you well wed."

Moved, Lilly reached across and squeezed her aunt's hand. "Very well. If Mr. Bromley proposes, I shall duly consider." Though she doubted she would need to, for despite the upcoming dinner, Lilly still believed Roger Bromley would soon be directing his addresses elsewhere.

"Wonderful girl! " Her aunt beamed. "Oh, you have a bright future ahead of you!"

On Sat.u.r.day, Lilly was pacing the hall when she heard a carriage door close. Were the Bromleys early? She hoped not. Her aunt had not yet finished dressing and would want to greet their guests when they arrived. Lilly stepped to the hall window. The sight of the caller was worse than unfas.h.i.+onably early guests. Panicked, Lilly went to the door herself, opening it to the man before he even knocked.

"Dr. Graves! We were not expecting you.,, He smiled at her seemingly enthusiastic greeting. "You suggested I call on your uncle. So, here I am."

"Did I? Well, I am afraid this is not a good time. We are expecting guests any moment."

"Oh?" He raised his brows in expectation, but she did not supply a name.

"Yes, so if you would be good enough to return another time?"

He frowned. "But I have spent the day rousing my courage and pressing my best frock coat. I hate the thought of having to start the whole dreadful process over again another day."

"I am afraid you must." She began to edge the door shut.

"Lillian?" Her uncle appeared in the entry hall behind her. "Where is Fletcher? You needn't a Oh, good day. Graves, is it?"

"Yes, sir. I had hoped to speak with you if you can spare a moment."

Lilly said, "I have just been telling Dr. Graves that we are expecting guests at any time."

"True, true," Jonathan Elliott said. "But, well, they are not here yet and you are. My wife is still dressing, but I am as good as I get, as you see." Her uncle chuckled. "Come back to the library, Graves, and tell me what this is abouta."

A quarter of an hour later, Lilly was still pacing the hall, but now for a different reason. She had hoped to see Dr. Graves out the door before the Bromleys arrived, but he and her uncle had tarried too long. Fletcher was just taking the Bromleys' coats and hats when Dr. Graves and her uncle reappeared in the hall.

"Graves?" Roger said. "I did not expect to see you here."

"Nor I you."

Roger turned to his parents. "May I introduce Mr. Graves, a new physician attended the same college as Uncle Thomas, I understand."

Mr. Bromley smiled. "An Oxford man. Excellent."

"My parents," Roger continued. "Mr. and Mrs. Bromley."

"Perhaps you would like to join us for dinner, Dr. Graves," Uncle Elliott suggested kindly.

"Thank you, sir, but I would not wish to intrude."

Awkward silence filled the hall. Finally her aunt filled it, saying dutifully, but without warmth, "Of course you are welcome, Dr. Graves."

Mr. Bromley, senior, surveyed her from across the dining table. "Your parents, Miss Haswell. Would I know them?"

Wariness filled her. "I would not think so, Mr. Bromley. My father did live in London for a time, but that was many years ago now."

Her aunt deftly stemmed unwanted inquiries by adding, "And her mother has been gone these several years."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear it," Mrs. Bromley said. "And Mr. Haswell. He is a ?" The elegant woman raised her brows in expectation, too polite to ask if her father had a profession or, worse yet, a trade.

Ruth Elliott sweetly ignored the implied question. "I am sure he is faring as well as can be expected on his own."

Mr. Bromley skewered a hunk of roast pork from the nearby platter and set it on his plate. "How does he occupy his time, Miss Haswell? "

Lillian licked her suddenly dry lips.

Her aunt answered in her stead. "Missing our Lillian, no doubt. How long have you been with us now, my dear? Two years?"

"Not quite so long, but above a year, yes."

"And do you enjoy London?" Mrs. Bromley asked, taking the bait.

"Oh yes. The city is fascinating, and I have met so many wonderful people."

"The Price-Winters family have taken special interest in our niece," Ruth Elliott added. "Such close friends the girls are."

"Yes, but from where do you hail, Miss Haswell?" Mr. Bromley persisted, sawing at his meat with knife and fork.

"Wilts.h.i.+re, sir."

"Wilts.h.i.+re!" the man enthused. "I have been there. I shall never forget it."

Lilly smiled. "It warms my heart to hear you say so."

"Then you no doubt know of the Wilts.h.i.+re miracle?"

Lilly's smile faded. "I am not surea"

He set down his utensils and stared off into his memories. "Must be ten or twelve years ago now. Several of us gentlemen went to a house party there, to enjoy a bit of hunting in the country. Well, a bit of gaming, too, truth be known. One evening, after a long day of shooting very ill, we were all well in our cups and pipes, when the man of the house my chum's father died. Right there in front of us all. Thomas rushed to him, but said the old man was stone dead. Still, the servants scurried about and called for the local apothecary. In this fellow comes, and the servants carry the body away to another room, the apothecary and my chum following behind. Well, I have to admit, the rest of us returned to our cards and quite put it from our minds. Death making one want to eat, drink, and be merry.

"But then, lo and behold, not an hour later, my chum Marlow rushes back into the room and proclaims the apothecary had worked a miracle. His father was alive and well and asking for his supper! Well, that spoilt the weekend for the rest of us, I can tell you. Nothing like a miracle to sour the taste of port and pipe."

He lifted his gla.s.s to signify the end of his story. Murmurs of amused approval rose up from the others.

"Clearly the man was not dead," Dr. Graves declared. "Merely fainted or unconscious."

Mr. Bromley took a drink and set down his gla.s.s. "Normally I would agree with you, sir, and take first seat among the mockers, were it not for one fact. My own brother confirmed him quite dead."

"But anybody might mistake "

"He is a physician, young man, a master at that college of yours.

Dr. Graves faltered. "Wait a Thomas Bromley?"

"That is what I've been telling you."

"He is very skilled, very knowledgeable, I admit," Graves said. "I sat under him for several courses."

Mr. Bromley nodded, sealing his point. He turned to Lilly. "Being from Wilts.h.i.+re, I imagine you have heard the tale?"

Lilly had barely parted her lips when she saw her aunt's eyes flash warning. Ruth Elliott shook her head in the slightest of reb.u.t.tals, urging her to do the same.

"I forget the man's name," Bromley went on. "Something with an H, I believe. Howard, or Hatfield a"

Her aunt half rose from her seat. "Why do the ladies not withdraw and leave the men to their port? "

"Come to think of it, the apothecary had a sc.r.a.p of a child with him. A little girl."

"Miss Haswell?" Dr. Graves turned to her, frowning deeply.

Lilly swallowed.

"Do you know this man, this apothecary?"

"Uhh a yes."

"Well, it sounds as if everybody in Wilts.h.i.+re knows the man," her aunt said, stepping to the door. "Come, Lillian."