‘So you’ve come, then?’ said Agnes Fygge. ‘Follow me, unless your wits have been addled by that boy up to his tricks again?’ She turned and hobbled away, leaving the quivering Susannah to follow or not, as she chose.
Susannah glanced behind her at the open door and the busy lane outside. It was tempting. Sighing, she slipped off her clogs and closed the door behind her.
Mistress Fygge pulled aside a tapestry curtain to reveal a shadowy staircase and began to haul herself painfully up the winding stairs. There was a strong smell of smoking fires. At the top she pushed open the door with her stick and light flooded onto the landing. She turned to see if Susannah was following before limping through the doorway.
The first impression that Susannah had was of the light and space and then of the great heat. She stood open-mouthed and stared about her. The dark and draughty passageway had given no hint of what to expect in the chamber upstairs. The ceiling soared high above her, supported by beams like the ribcage of a whale. Daylight poured in through tall, narrow windows with tops shaped like clover leaves. In a vast stone fireplace which took up most of the end wall a fire in was roaring away, the flames leaping up the chimney and smoke spiralling up to the apex of the ceiling.
‘It’s a church!’ breathed Susannah.
‘A chapel, in fact. This was once a priory.’ Mistress Fygge lowered herself carefully into the great chair beside the fireplace and motioned Susannah to take the smaller chair opposite. She waved the smoke away from her face and coughed. ‘Wind’s in the east again. So, Henry has left you a memento of himself?’
Susannah bowed her head, terror threatening to rise up and choke her. Even thinking about the baby growing inside her made her shake with fear.
‘What are you looking so sick about?’
‘I hadn’t expected … It was a shock to realise that I’m carrying a child. I’ve been so anxious about the future that the possibility of it didn’t occur to me. And I don’t know how I shall manage. Especially now. I had expected to return to my father’s home but …’
‘Your stepmother wouldn’t have you?’
‘There is no room since the twins arrived.’ She took a deep breath and launched into her prepared speech. ‘It was wrong of me to be so discourteous to you when you offered me a position as your waiting woman. I have come to ask you if you would forgive me and to promise that, should your offer still be open, I would endeavour to serve you well.’
‘You have some humility then? Not easy to find employment, especially with a baby in your belly.’
‘No.’
‘Good.’ Agnes Fygge gave a wolfish smile. ‘Can’t have my nephew’s pregnant widow scurrying around the streets looking for work as a kitchen maid. Whatever would people think of me? So you will stop all the nonsense and come and live here.’
‘Dr Ambrose said …’
‘Why do you persist in calling him that when his name is William?’
Susannah heard a movement in the doorway and turned her head to see Dr Ambrose. She looked down at her shoes, not wanting him to see her having to beg his aunt for a home.
‘Like it or not, you’re part of this family now,’ said Mistress Fygge, ‘and this family takes care of its own. Isn’t that right, William?’
‘Indeed it is,’ said William Ambrose from the doorway.
‘Time you saw some sense, miss. Gallivanting all over the city offering yourself up at kitchen doors; it’s a disgrace! Why didn’t you come to me in the first place? Pride is a sin, as you well know.’
‘Yes, madam. And I’m very grateful.’ It galled her to say it, but it was true. At least when she died in childbed there would be a roof over her head.
‘I expect you’ll earn your keep.’
‘Yes, madam.’
‘Enough, then! Emmanuel will accompany you home and fetch your boxes. I’ll expect you back here this afternoon. You can read to me. William will show you out.’ She leaned back and closed her eyes. The interview was over.
Emmanuel, pulling a handcart, remained three paces behind Susannah as she returned to her house. She felt his stare upon her back and held her head high, refusing to look behind her, just as if she was a lady of quality out shopping with her blackamoor.
Peg’s eyes opened wide when she saw her mistress’s companion.
‘Take Emmanuel round to the kitchen door, Peg and put the handcart in the garden. I don’t want the neighbours to see us leaving.’
‘Leaving? You’ve found somewhere?’
‘We’re moving to the house of my husband’s aunt.’
She became very still. ‘Both of us?’
‘I said I wouldn’t abandon you, didn’t I?’
Peg closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief and Susannah bit her lip. She would have to deal with Agnes Fygge’s protests later. Meanwhile, there was packing to do.
It didn’t take long. She folded her clothes into her trunk, along with her mother’s miniature and her precious pearl pendant and added the candelabra that Agnes Fygge had given to her as a wedding present. Her books she placed on top of Henry’s bills in her father’s strongbox. Perhaps one day she would be able to pay off her husband’s creditors, including the unpleasant Mr Radlett. That reminded her of the little brooch she had found in the dining room and she slid her hand into the lining of her trunk to extract it. She would place it on the drawing-room chimney piece with a note for when he returned.
She took a last look round the bedchamber she had shared with Henry. At their wedding she had been so full of hope for their future but here she was, poised yet again, to begin a different life. But this time she had the terrifying addition of a child growing inside her.
Hearing the sound of carriage wheels stopping outside, she peered out of the window and gasped. Scooping up her skirts, she ran downstairs to the kitchen.
‘Quick!’ she said. ‘Mr Radlett and his family are here! Emmanuel, put the boxes on the handcart. Now!’
‘Yes’m.’
‘Peg, help him!’
They wrestled the trunks onto the cart, and Emmanuel shoved it along the path to the end of the garden with Peg scurrying along behind.
Susannah hesitated. Dammit, she refused to sneak away like a thieving servant. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Wait for me at the end of the road.’
‘But ma’am!’ Peg’s face was pinched with fright. ‘He’ll skin you alive!’
‘Don’t worry about me. Now go!’ Susannah latched the back gate behind them, then braced her shoulders and went back inside.
Mr Radlett was striding about in the hall making a great deal of noise opening all the doors. ‘Still here! I’m surprised you have the gall, madam.’ He scowled. ‘I told you to be gone!’
‘I shall leave in a few moments but I have something to return to you.’
‘Get out of my house! Now!’ Mr Radlett’s jowls became dangerously suffused with scarlet.
Footsteps pattered down the passage and a fashionably dressed lady of middle years appeared and looked over Mr Radlett’s shoulder. ‘George, what is it?’
‘Mistress Radlett?’ Susannah came forward and proffered the brooch. ‘Might this be yours?’
‘Oh!’ The lady pushed her husband aside. ‘Wherever did you find it?’
‘It was behind the court cupboard in the dining room when I moved it to polish the floor.’
‘George, look! I never thought to see this again.’ She pressed it to her lips. ‘My husband gave this to me when our first son was born. It’s so very precious to me.’
The colour in George Radlett’s face subsided from beetroot to rose. ‘Be gone with you, madam! This is my house and I’ll not have you within half a mile of it.’
‘George! How can you!’ Mistress Radlett took her husband’s arm. ‘Take no notice of him, my dear! His bark is definitely worse than his bite.’
‘But she’s been living in our house, rent free …’
‘At a time we had no need of the house. And look about you, George! Can you see si
gns of neglect or damage? On the contrary, this lady even polished behind that great cupboard of your mother’s that I certainly never bothered to move. Our house has been well cared for while we have been absent. And I’m grateful to you for it, madam.’
‘But the rent …’
‘There is no rent for this lady to pay. Now be a dear, George and come with me to oversee the unloading of our boxes.’
‘I do intend to pay you the rent my husband agreed to,’ said Susannah. ‘It may take me some time …’
‘Nonsense! There is no debt and I have my brooch returned safely to me,’ said Mistress Radlett, a smile on her pretty face. ‘Now, let me show you out.’
Susannah held her head high and swept down the front steps for the last time.
‘I have brought Peg, my maid,’ said Susannah looking Mistress Fygge firmly in the eye.
‘Oh, you have, have you? And who is going to feed and clothe her do you suppose?’
‘She works hard and is honest. And she doesn’t eat very much.’ Susannah held her breath.
Mistress Fygge stared back at her and all at once there was laughter in her eyes. ‘I think if Henry had survived, he would have met his match in you, miss. Ah well, we can always use another pair of hands to carry coal up to the fires and we can’t have you doing that in your condition, can we? You can go down into the kitchen presently and see my housekeeper, Mistress Oliver. She’ll put Peg to work soon enough.’
‘Thank you, madam.’ Susannah had the grace to blush.
‘And what do you think your duties might be?’
‘Whatever you wish them to be,’ said Susannah as meekly as she was able.
‘Quite right! You shall read to me, be my secretary, make intelligent conversation when required and be silent when not.’
‘Yes, madam.’
‘William tells me you play chess?’
‘He is a better player than I.’
‘And I. So perhaps we will be well matched.’ She sighed. ‘I’m tired. I’m always tired these days and I wish to rest. Put another piece of coal on the fire and then you can ask Mistress Oliver to show you to your bedchamber.’
Susannah, braving the shroud of smoke hanging over the fire, did as she was told before returning to find Peg.
Mistress Oliver was a big woman and the cavernous kitchen underneath the chapel was her kingdom. Her sleeves were rolled up to expose arms as solid and fleshy as hams and wisps of coarse black hair escaped from her cap as she stirred a vat of simmering cow’s head on the fire.
‘So you’re Master Henry’s wife?’ she said. ‘He always had such a merry twinkle in his eye. A sad day when he passed away. And especially so for you, since you’re thrown on the mistress’s charity.’
Susannah gently pushed Peg forward. ‘I have brought my maid, Peg, to assist you.’
Mistress Oliver looked her up and down. ‘A bit small, isn’t she? Better feed her up if I’m going to get any useful work out of her.’
‘Peg is a good worker.’
‘She’d better be or she’ll feel my hazel switch across her back.’ She winked at Susannah, to belie her harsh words. ‘I’ll have no slackers in my kitchen. You can start by peeling those turnips, girl.’
Peg took off her shawl and set to work without a word.
‘Mistress Fygge said you would show me my bedchamber.’
‘You’ll probably want to dust it again yourself. It’s been waiting for you this past month. Can’t keep the smuts down in the winter,’ said Mistress Oliver as she led the way up the stairs.
On the landing she opened the door opposite the chapel and Susannah found herself in a long, panelled corridor with rooms leading off along one side. Beyond a right-angled turn in the corridor Mistress Oliver opened a door near the end.
‘Come down to the kitchen if you could eat a bit of bread and cheese. Do you have strange fancies? My cousin used to eat coal when she was expecting.’
‘Coal? No, nothing like that.’
‘Best get on.’ The door slammed shut and Mistress Oliver’s clogs clattered away down the corridor.
The bedchamber was panelled in oak with a faded Turkey rug on the floor beside the four-poster bed. A fire had been lit to take the chill away. The real joy of the room, however, was the pair of tall windows which admitted a stream of light, even though the day was dull. Susannah went over to the window seat and wiped the dusty bloom off one of the panes of glass with her finger. Expecting to find a view of higgledy-piggledy rooflines and dilapidated dwellings all crowded together, she caught her breath.
Down below was a garden. Cloisters ran round the three sides of it that she could see and the stone walls of the chapel rose up opposite her. Although the garden was drifted in snow she could make out the topiary shapes of yew trees and low box hedges containing a rose garden. The sheer, unexpected delight of such an open, tranquil space set within the surrounding maze of twisting alleys, tenements and courtyards made her spirits lift.
In the middle of the garden the snow had been heaped into a snowman with two pieces of coal for his eyes and a carrot for his nose. A hat with a jaunty feather topped him off. Susannah smiled. There was something about this rambling home that felt welcoming, a stark contrast to the chilly, newly built perfection of the house she had shared with Henry.
A shuffling sound came from the corridor and then a scratching at the door. She opened it to find the monkey in the blue coat sitting in the doorway with its long tail curled round its feet. Susannah hastily backed away but it seemed quite calm. The little creature, its face and chest a pretty cream in contrast to its dark brown fur, stared at her with soulful eyes. Chattering at her, it held out its arms and then leaped up onto her shoulder. More prepared this time, she managed not to scream and stood very still while it lifted her hair and inspected her ear with a leathery little finger.
Suddenly it cocked its head, jumped off her shoulder and bounded back along the corridor. A few seconds later it reappeared with Emmanuel, who had dragged Susannah’s boxes upstairs.
‘You gave me a nasty fright earlier on,’ said Susannah severely. ‘I hope you are sorry for it?’
Emmanuel’s white teeth flashed again and he chuckled. ‘Very sorry, missus.’
‘I should hope so too! How long have you had the monkey?’
‘Aphra here when I came. She belong the captain.’
‘The captain?’
‘Missus Agnes’s husband. Missus Oliver says you unpack and then come down to kitchen. Double quick.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘When she say “double quick” she mean double quick.’
‘I shall come as soon as I’m ready.’
Emmanuel laughed, his shoulders heaving at the joke. He held out his hand to Aphra, who ran up his arm and settled herself into her accustomed place on his shoulder.
It didn’t take long for Susannah to stow her few clothes into the linen press. Her books found a home on the window seat and her comb on the washstand. Finally she placed the candelabra on the small table beside the bed. With one last glance at the garden below, she made her way down to the kitchen.
Later, Agnes Fygge woke up tetchy.‘Where have you been?’ she asked.
‘Mistress Oliver found some jobs for me to do in the pantry.’
Agnes craned her neck. ‘Where’s that dratted boy Emmanuel?’
‘Hardly a boy.’
‘He’s just turned fourteen.’
Susannah raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s well grown for fourteen. Is that usual for Africans?’
‘Good food and bad blood have made him big. He was only a tot of five or so when he came here. My brother ought to take him back and put him to work on the plantation. Heaven knows, he’s too big to have around here any more. Keep tripping over him. Open the door and shout for him, will you?’
Emmanuel and his simian companion scurried up the stairs at the sound of Susannah’s voice.
‘You’ve kept me waiting, Emmanuel,’ said Agnes Fygge. ‘You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.’
>
‘Sorry, missus.’ He went to an elaborately carved cupboard and took out a clay pipe and a bag of tobacco. Lighting a taper in the fire, he handed the pipe to Mistress Fygge and held the taper while she sucked at the pipe.
The old woman closed her eyes and sighed. ‘That’s better. I always like tobacco in the afternoon. You can read to me for a while, Susannah. The Merchant of Venice, I think.’
Emmanuel drew a footstool up to the fire and stared into the flames while Aphra searched his woolly hair.
Reading aloud, Susannah recalled the times she had sat beside the fire reading it with her father, taking turns to play the different characters.
Gradually the light faded and Peg crept in to light the candles and prepare the table for supper.
Susannah noticed that the companion to her candelabra was placed upon the table. She slipped away to bring her own down from her bedchamber and arranged the two of them, one at each end. ‘Back in its rightful place,’ she said and saw a small smile pass over Agnes’s face.
William returned from visiting his patients in time to take supper with Susannah and his aunt. He ate in silence, listening to his aunt’s comments and only replying when it was absolutely necessary. At the end of the meal he rinsed his fingers and wiped them on a napkin.
‘I’ll bid you both goodnight,’ he said. ‘I shall be in the study and expect you will have retired by the time I have finished my reading.’
‘I had hoped you’d join us for a game of cards, Will.’
‘Not tonight, Aunt.’ He kissed her cheek, nodded at Susannah and left the room.
Agnes sighed. ‘He used to be such a happy boy. My husband doted on him. You see, Will was the son we never had.’
‘Was he very young when his parents died?’
‘Ten years old. He had a baby sister too but she perished from the same typhoid outbreak that killed their father.’
‘And their mother?’
An expression of pain passed across her face. ‘My sister Constance died of a broken heart.’
The Apothecary's Daughter Page 17
