The Apothecary's Daughter

by Betts, Charlotte

  After Susannah and Henry had eaten their meagre dinner of bread and cheese, Susannah dusted the parlour and then sat by the window mending a tear in one of the cushions while she waited for her father to arrive. The tree-lined courtyard outside was peaceful and most unlike the hurly-burly of Fleet Street. But of course, even Fleet Street was quieter now since so many people had fled the city.

  It wasn’t long before Susannah spied her father. Ned accompanied him and they carried a strongbox between them. When Peg opened the door to their knock Susannah leaned over the banisters and called out to them.

  The door to Henry’s study opened and he ran down the stairs to relieve Cornelius of his burden. ‘Good afternoon, sir, and welcome. Susannah, take your father into the parlour and I will join you in a moment.’

  Susannah kissed Cornelius and drew him by the hand into the parlour.

  ‘Well, this is all mighty fine, Susannah. You have done well for yourself.’

  ‘The house is so large that it is a little daunting. I shall be kept very busy.’

  ‘That’s no bad thing, in my opinion.’ He lifted her chin with his finger. ‘But are you happy, Susannah?’

  She dropped her eyelashes, her cheeks flaming under her father’s enquiring gaze.

  ‘As you can see, I will be very comfortable here.’

  Cornelius kissed her forehead and released her. ‘I am glad of it.’ Henry joined them and poured the wine that Susannah had drawn from the barrel she’d found in the cellar.

  ‘Henry, shall we complete our business?’ said Cornelius. ‘I have some papers for you to sign.’

  Later that afternoon, after her father had left, Susannah heard a chinking noise as she passed Henry’s study. The door was ajar; inside she saw him sitting at his desk counting coins into little towers.

  He glanced up at her, his eyes gleaming. ‘Your dowry, my dear. Your father promised I should have it the day after the wedding and he has been as good as his word.’ He picked up one of the piles of coins and held them out to her. ‘Go to the market now and find something nice for our supper.’ He lifted the lid of the strongbox and scooped the remaining coins into it.

  Susannah caught her breath to see that it was almost full.

  He locked the box and tucked the key inside his waistcoat. ‘Off you go, then!’

  Setting off to the market with Peg, Susannah kept thinking of the strongbox full of coins. She knew that Henry, her father and his lawyer had spent several hours closeted together before the wedding but she’d had no idea that her dowry was for so large a sum. She should have been pleased that her father considered her to be worth so much but she couldn’t dispel the uneasy feeling that he had simply sold her to Henry to avoid discord with Arabella.

  Chapter 7

  Some weeks later Susannah was peering out of the window into the dark, wondering what had kept Henry out so late yet again, when she heard the chilling rumble of cartwheels rolling past and the bellman’s cry of ‘Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!’

  A scream came from upstairs, making her start and drop the curtain as she turned to see Peg running down the stairs in her nightgown.

  ‘Oh madam, don’t let them take me!’

  ‘Of course they won’t take you, Peg. You are quite well.’

  ‘They tumbled my family onto the cart all anyhow, with my mam’s skirt up over her knees,’ she sobbed. ‘She’d have died of shame if she’d a known.’

  ‘But she didn’t know and she’s at peace now.’

  There was no consoling the girl and at last Susannah led her back to her attic room and promised to stay with her until she went to sleep. ‘Close your eyes now,’ she said.

  Peg’s snuffling breaths eventually turned to small snores but she still gripped Susannah’s hand when she tried to leave.

  Susannah breathed deeply, counting her own breaths all the while, to control her own fears which threatened to blossom up in her chest and choke her if she allowed herself to think of them. Hard work was the best antidote to their dread of catching the plague and she had been sure to keep both herself and Peg busy. They went out most days to buy food but so many shops were shut up that the once-frenetic streets had become as quiet as on the Sabbath. The few remaining market stalls were half empty and Susannah was irritated at having to spend good money on wilting cabbages and wrinkled carrots. She took particular care to carry a small pot of vinegar with her and instructed the stallholders to drop her change into the pot to cleanse it, thereby reducing the risk of pestilential infection.

  Married life was much lonelier than Susannah had anticipated. Each evening she changed into her best clothes and waited eagerly for Henry to return. Each day she saved up any interesting snippets of news, determined to have a lively conversation with the stranger who was her husband. Most evenings she was disappointed when he returned home too late to eat the supper she had prepared and went straight to bed. On the other evenings he was curiously distracted and barely responded to her overtures. Her promise to herself on her wedding day to learn to love Henry and to make him love her back was proving more difficult than she had imagined. The marriage still hadn’t been consummated and she couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed.

  The fear in the streets meant that Susannah had little opportunity to make the acquaintance of her neighbours. Those who had not already left town stayed indoors unless there was a pressing reason to go out. The fishmonger told her that one of her neighbours, a Dutch merchant and his family, had barricaded themselves inside with provisions sufficient to last until the emergency was over. In some of the main thoroughfares grass was growing amongst the cobbles, an unimaginable state of affairs.

  The weather turned cool and russet leaves drifted down from the trees in the courtyard. In the afternoons Susannah taught Peg to make jellies, preserves and cordials from whatever fruit was available, in readiness for the winter ahead. It was essential, she found, to keep busy in order not to think too hard about both her disillusionment with the married state and the rising bills of mortality. In an effort to lift the malaise that had settled upon her, Susannah decided to invite her father and Arabella to dinner. As an afterthought she suggested that Henry ask his cousin and their aunt to join them. It would be a special occasion; their first party, and she was sure she could make Henry proud of her.

  Peg helped Susannah to move all the furniture in the dining room so that they could clean the cobwebs off the tapestries. It was as they heaved the great court cupboard aside that Susannah saw something glinting down behind it.

  ‘Hold still a moment,’ she said to Peg as she stretched down the narrow space against the wall. The object was just out of reach so she poked the besom into the gap and pushed it until she retrieved a small brooch, gold with a central ruby and seed pearls set around the edge.

  ‘Oh, ma’am,’ said Peg with round eyes. ‘That looks valuable.’

  ‘Too valuable to keep. I’ll have to ask Henry to contact the previous owners of the house so that it can be returned. Meanwhile, I’ll put it in my trunk for safekeeping.’

  On the appointed day Susannah set off to the market at daybreak and managed to procure a fine leg of mutton, three rabbits and a chicken for a fricassee in the French fashion. Henry had particularly liked the last fricassee she had made for him.

  Susannah listened out for the church bells and was dismayed that Henry hadn’t arrived home by five. The guests would arrive in half an hour and he would have little time to change into the clean shirt and damask coat she had laid out for him.

  William Ambrose, however, arrived exactly on time. He was accompanied by his aunt, leaning heavily upon her silver-topped cane. Henry was still out.

  ‘You’re honoured,’ said Agnes Fygge as Peg took her cloak. ‘I hardly ever venture out these days but I had a mind to see you since you’ve not seen fit to call upon me. Was my wedding present not grand enough for you?’

  ‘Indeed it was!’ stuttered Susannah.

  ‘I received your letter
of thanks, very prettily written too, but you could have called.’

  ‘I should have been glad to do so but Henry said you preferred to keep yourself cloistered at home for fear of the pestilence.’

  ‘Did he, now?’ She smoothed down her black silk skirt, old fashioned but of good quality and heavily encrusted with French lace. ‘And where is my nephew?’

  Susannah wondered that too. ‘I’m sure he’ll not be long.’

  Cornelius and Arabella arrived shortly afterwards and Susannah was astonished to see how large Arabella had grown in the last month. In spite of that, pregnancy suited her. ‘Are you keeping well, Arabella?’ she asked.

  ‘My condition is fatiguing,’ she said, ‘but Cornelius has insisted we have a nursemaid for the children so I am able to rest a little now.’ She glanced around the drawing room. ‘I need not ask how you are since I can see that you have fallen on good fortune. Who would have thought it?’

  Susannah was secretly gratified that her stepmother’s eyes were wide with envy.

  The guests were on their second glass of wine and dusk was falling when Susannah glimpsed Peg making faces at her through the doorway. She excused herself and left the room.

  ‘Oh, madam, the mutton’s boiled dry! I tried to keep it warm at the edge of the fire until the master returns but it’s caught and one side is all black. Whatever shall we do?’

  Susannah sighed, her annoyance with Henry rising. She had particularly asked him to be home promptly to greet his guests. ‘Lift it out of the pan onto a board and slice off the burned bit. Then carve it as neatly as you can into thick slices and arrange it on a platter. You can sprinkle it with chopped parsley and perhaps the burned flavour won’t be too noticeable. And when you’ve done that we’ll sit down to eat.’

  ‘But what about the master?’

  ‘We can’t wait any longer. Mistress Leyton is becoming irritable and Dr Ambrose’s stomach is growling with hunger.’

  A short while later, reluctantly accepting that Henry wasn’t going to arrive in time, Susannah led her guests into the dining room.

  ‘Well, this is very fine!’ said Agnes Fygge, her inquisitive black eyes raking over the dinner table. Susannah had polished the table with beeswax and it was set with the best glassware and the napkins folded into elaborate shapes in the latest fashion. The platter of boiled mutton sat beside the chicken and rabbit fricassee. There was an eel pie, a variety of salads and vegetables together with a treacle tart of generous proportions and a dish of roasted quinces. The centre of the table was adorned with a magnificent, double-branched silver candelabra, the candles already lit.

  ‘As you can see, your wedding present stands in the place of honour,’ said Susannah.

  Gratified, Agnes Fygge settled herself onto her chair and William Ambrose placed her stick beside her where she could reach it. ‘Don’t fuss over me, Will!’ she said.

  ‘I never do, Aunt.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She frowned at him. ‘You mean that you try not to let me know that you do.’

  He smiled and rested his hand affectionately upon her shoulder. ‘You understand me too well.’

  ‘Susannah, where is Henry?’ asked Arabella.

  ‘I expect he has some pressing business to attend to.’ Susannah smiled but it felt as if her face was cracking. She sat on the edge of her chair, listening all the time for his footsteps coming up the front steps. Wherever could he be?

  ‘I find it most strange that you do not know your husband’s whereabouts,’ said Arabella. ‘Did you not enquire of him when he left home? I should have thought you would show a little interest in his plans. Has he sent a message?’

  ‘I’m sure he has a good reason for being late, Arabella,’ said Susannah defensively.

  ‘He shows little respect for your feelings if he has not the courtesy to let you know his whereabouts. And how very awkward it is for you, not to have a host for your dinner!’ Arabella’s eyes gleamed with spite.

  Susannah’s cheeks burned with humiliation but she couldn’t think of a suitable riposte.

  ‘Not awkward at all,’ said William Ambrose. ‘This is a family party, is it not? And my cousin’s wife is a perfect hostess in her husband’s unexpected absence.’

  Susannah blinked, taken aback by his unlooked for support. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I may call upon you to pour the wine as Henry isn’t here yet?’ She wondered for a moment about Henry’s comment that his cousin had been disappointed in love. William Ambrose would be more than pleasant-looking if only he’d take that frequent scowl off his face.

  The dinner passed off tolerably well and Susannah smiled and chatted with her guests, while all the time she felt as if she had swallowed a stone that threatened to choke her.

  Henry had still not returned by the time her guests made ready to leave.

  ‘You must be sure to send word tomorrow to tell us that Henry has returned safely,’ said Arabella with false solicitude as Cornelius tenderly wrapped her cloak round her shoulders.

  ‘I’m sure he must have sent a message which has gone astray,’ said Susannah with equally false gaiety.

  Dr Ambrose kissed her cheek. ‘A very good dinner,’ he said. ‘Henry will be sorry to have missed it.’

  ‘Bad manners, I call it,’ said Mistress Fygge.

  Susannah shut the front door behind the last guest and leaned against it with her eyes closed. Disappointment and humiliation made her want to crawl into bed and pull the blankets over her head.

  Forcing herself to rally, she helped Peg to wash up the dishes and clean the kitchen, expecting to hear Henry’s footsteps all the while.

  By midnight, going upstairs alone, she really began to worry. What if some accident had befallen Henry? Or, God forbid, that he had become unwell? She undressed and paced around the bedchamber in her nightshift. Eventually she pulled a chair up to the window and sat with the curtain round her shoulders while she watched the moonlit courtyard below.

  It was almost dawn when Henry returned. She saw him walking across the courtyard with slightly unsteady steps and ran down the stairs and out into the night.

  ‘Henry, where have you been? Are you all right?’ She caught hold of his arm, the tears running down her face. ‘You cannot imagine how anxious I’ve been.’

  ‘Susannah? What are you doing out here in your night shift?’

  ‘I thought you must have been struck down by the plague or set upon by footpads.’

  ‘Footpads? What nonsensical notion is this? There’s hardly a person out on the streets. I merely stayed to play a game of cards with some friends.’

  ‘Cards? But …’ A spark of anger ignited. ‘But you know we had guests this evening. I made you a rabbit and chicken fricassee especially and you stayed with friends playing cards? Henry how could you!’

  ‘Did you tell me you were having a party?’

  ‘Of course I did!’

  ‘Oh. Well, did you save me some of the fricassee?’

  ‘No, I did not! And I doubt I shall ever make it for you again.’ She turned and ran back indoors.

  Henry was often out past midnight. He was rarely home at all, except to accompany her to church on Sundays. This left Susannah long, lonely evenings to read her precious books but sometimes the ticking of the clock seemed so loud in the silent house that it unnerved her. She tried to stay awake for Henry’s return but he often crept in so late that she would only open one eye as he slipped into bed beside her. On these occasions his breath invariably smelled of the alehouse and the heavy odour of tobacco smoke clung to his hair. Sometimes he carried with him a faint perfume that reminded her of the orris root in her father’s apothecary.

  ‘Must you go so much into public places, Henry?’ she asked one night when he came in after a late evening. She sat up in bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘You put yourself at risk of contagion.’

  ‘All my business is conducted in the coffee shops and taverns,’ he said as he pulled his shirt over his head. ‘It’s hard enough
to drum up new business when so few people are abroad that I must take every opportunity, however late it is.’

  ‘But I worry about you, Henry.’

  Henry yawned and kissed her cheek. ‘You are a dutiful wife, Susannah.’

  Hesitantly she touched his arm. She so wanted him to notice her, to love her. ‘I do try to be,’ she said.

  ‘I believe you do.’ He climbed into bed beside her and kissed her perfunctorily on her cheek. ‘Go to sleep now.’ He turned on his side and before two minutes has passed he had fallen asleep.

  Susannah lay staring into the dark while she listened to Henry’s puffing breaths. What was the matter with her, she wondered? She had at first refused to marry him because she was so terrified of the risk of bearing a child but now that he showed no interest in his conjugal rights she was anxious that he found her ugly. As each day passed in waiting for Henry to come home, it seemed that she was still waiting for her marriage to begin. As things were, she and Henry might have been mere acquaintances who happened to live in the same house. What could she possibly do to change this?

  Loneliness drove Susannah out of the safety of her home to brave the streets to visit Martha. The air was full of acrid smoke, which made her cough as she hurried along with a handkerchief held over her nose. Flames leaped from the bonfires that had been lit in the streets in an attempt to smoke out the pestilence. She couldn’t help wondering if they would all die of an inflammation of the lungs before the plague was subdued.

  Crowded so close together, the roofs of the houses appeared to lean inwards and, at eleven in the morning, the swirling smoke turned day into twilight. Ash drifted down, settling upon her head and shoulders. She broke out in goose pimples at the thought that the streets must resemble the landscape of hell. Passing the churchyard she was sure of it when she saw an open pit with the bodies of the dead exposed for all to see. The sickly stench of corruption made her gag and she hurried over to the other side of the street to escape it.