‘All my knowledge and training counts for nothing,’ said William, slicing his apple into pieces with brutal precision. ‘I can do no more than make the sick comfortable until they die. I’ve tried cutting the buboes to allow the putrefaction to escape, fumigating the sickroom and administering every combination of herbs known to man but in the end it’s still God’s will as to whether a patient survives.’
Pushing her plate away, Susannah stood up so abruptly that her chair tipped over. ‘I thought you didn’t expose yourself to infection?’
‘Most doctors and apothecaries have decamped and the sick need me.’
‘But you might bring the sickness home with you! William, you must be careful. What would Agnes do if you sickened? It would break her heart. Aren’t you afraid?’
‘Of course I’m afraid! I lie awake in a cold sweat worrying about it but what else can I do? Not one of us is safe.’
‘Don’t say that!’ Her breath was tight in her throat. ‘I dream of escaping to the country before something dreadful happens to us all. I want to breathe clean air and know that the pestilence is far away.’ She could hear the rising hysteria in her voice.
William stared at her, his face expressionless. ‘It’s hard for you, being tied to Agnes’s apron strings, isn’t it?’
She shrugged, wondering at his sudden change of subject. ‘When I was working in the dispensary I was useful. Father allowed me more freedom than most women dream of but everything is different now and I’m hardly in a position to complain. Agnes threw me a lifeline and I shall never be able to repay her for that. I don’t know what would have happened to me if …’
‘Agnes is lucky to have found you. You are a worthy companion for her.’ William stood up. ‘I’m going to my study.’
Susannah stared after him, a flush of delight and astonishment warming her throat. A compliment from William was as rare and precious as sunshine at midnight.
Two days later a messenger arrived bringing a note for Agnes.
‘It’s from my old friend, Mary Westacott,’ she said, her wrinkled old face wreathed in smiles. ‘She’s travelling up from Devon to visit her son in Hatfield and will come and break her journey with me for a few days.’
Mary Westacott arrived in time for dinner the next day and she and Agnes chattered away together like a pair of magpies. Emmanuel and Joseph crouched in a huddle at the other end of the chapel teasing Aphra with a pigeon’s feather and planning mischief. Susannah sat on the window seat darning a worn Flemish-work cushion while the two old ladies appeared to forget her existence as they caught up on all the gossip of the previous ten years. When they had run out of reputations to ruin they turned to reminiscing.
After a while, lulled by the sound of their voices, Susannah leaned her head back against the wall and dozed.
She awoke with a start when the latch clicked and felt a rush of pleasure when William pushed open the door.
‘You remember Mary Westacott, don’t you, Will?’ said Agnes.
‘Certainly I do,’ said William, bowing over Mary’s hand. ‘I’m happy to see you again. Aunt Agnes will be pleased to have your company.’
‘We have a great deal to talk about. So many of my friends are dead that it’s good to be with someone of my own age for a change.’
‘Since you are both so well occupied, Aunt, I wonder if you could spare Susannah tomorrow?’
‘Spare her? What did you have in mind?’
‘I prescribe some country air to bring the colour back into her cheeks. I have business at Merryfields and shall be making a visit there.’
Agnes raised her eyebrows. ‘Would you like to accompany William on a visit to Richmond, Susannah?’
‘If you have no need of me, I should be glad to do so,’ said Susannah, her heart lifting at the very thought. She held her breath while Agnes pursed her lips and thought about it.
‘It would not be seemly for you to travel alone with William,’ said Agnes at last.
‘Joseph can accompany us,’ said William. ‘The child would enjoy a boat trip.’
Susannah glanced at him, wondering if he was seeking an opportunity to know his son better. The thought troubled her.
Emmanuel, sitting by Agnes’s feet, stirred and stared at her with desperation in his eyes. ‘Perhaps I might take Emmanuel with me?’ She was rewarded with the sight of Emmanuel’s face breaking into a wide grin.
Agnes nodded. ‘That is a better idea. I will spare him for the day but Joseph shall remain by my side in his place.’
Susannah tried to read William’s expression, to see if he minded not taking his small son with him; but his face remained impassive.
‘Very good,’ said William. ‘Susannah, you had better be prepared to leave early in the morning as we shall be rowing against the stream. You will excuse me from the dinner table today, ladies? I have several patients to see this evening as I shall be out of town tomorrow.’ He bowed and left.
‘Well,’ said Mary, ‘your nephew has grown into a fine gentleman, Agnes.’
‘He’ll do well enough,’ said Agnes, unable to conceal the love she felt for him in her proud smile.
‘I am surprised he doesn’t take a wife.’
‘William has never been one to flatter the ladies and it would take an exceptional girl to capture his heart.’
‘He was perfectly charming to me.’
Agnes cackled. ‘Perhaps you’d better propose to him yourself, then!’
Mary laughed so much that she developed a fit of the hiccups and Susannah had to send Joseph to the kitchen to fetch a glass of ale to wash them away.
Susannah was so excited at the prospect of the day’s excursion that she rose before first light. Outside her bedchamber window the sun was peeking through pink clouds and she hummed to herself as she pinned up her hair. She wished she had something pretty to wear rather than her usual mourning dress and then was overcome with guilt that the thought was disrespectful to Henry’s memory.
William was already seated at the dining table in the chapel when she arrived.
‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?’ she said.
‘Not at all. Make a good breakfast; it may be difficult to find any dinner while we’re travelling.’
Phoebe carried in a tray and laid the table with the remains of the previous night’s pie, a loaf of bread, some apples and a jug of ale.
Susannah followed Phoebe’s movements closely, wondering if anything in her behaviour would hint at the special relationship she had with William. Her expression, however, was as insolent as ever when she glanced up to see Susannah watching her.
Eyes lowered again, Phoebe asked, ‘Anything else, sir?’ ‘That will be all.’
Susannah noticed that she was filling out with regular food and her skin now had the glow of good health. Phoebe left the room, her hips swaying, leaving Susannah feeling vaguely irritated. William cut a large piece of the pie and placed it on Susannah’s plate. ‘Eat up! You’re too thin.’
‘I’m hungry all the time.’
‘A good sign that everything is as it ought to be.’
William was in better spirits, Susannah thought. Perhaps the prospect of a jaunt to the country had put him in a holiday mood too. ‘Where is it we are going to today?’ she asked.
‘I must visit my old family home. When my parents died I came to live with Aunt Agnes but I could never bear to sell Merryfields. I have business there today with my tenant.’
‘Shall you ever return?’
He tore off a chunk of yesterday’s bread and dunked it into his ale. ‘There is much for me to do in London. Especially now that the plague is gaining strength again. I consider it my duty as a physician to stay here.’ He drank his ale. ‘By the way, I wanted you to know that I have agreed a good price for your rum. You should be able to settle some more of Henry’s debts.’
‘What a relief! I’m so grateful to you.’
‘Think nothing of it.’ William delved into his coat pocket and pulled out a l
eather purse. ‘I couldn’t have the family name besmirched, could I? And Aunt Agnes has suggested that, since she’s so pleased with you, she will increase your salary a little. I hope you will soon be debt free.’
Susannah took the proffered purse. ‘I cannot thank you enough.’
Emmanuel pushed open the door, carrying a basket and a folded rug.
‘We’re ready to leave whenever you wish,’ said Susannah.
William had arranged for a boat to wait for them at the public stairs at Whitefriars. He held Susannah’s arm firmly as they went down the steps, worn and slippery with green slime, and settled her in the boat with the blanket tucked over her knees. The river eddied around them in a froth of oily scum and Susannah saw a drowned rat, bloated to twice its normal size, swirl past. She held a handkerchief soaked in lavender water to her nose to mask the stink.
The boatman pulled away, the sun warm enough already to raise beads of sweat on his brow as he rowed upstream. The river was congested with ferry boats and barges loaded with coal or timber and the boatman had to keep his wits about him to prevent a collision.
Susannah found plenty to interest her as they passed Somerset House and the New Exchange and then Whitehall and West min ster. Soon she was able to forget the stench of the river, becoming mesmerised by the sun making diamonds of the drips falling from the oars. The regular squeak-thunk as the boatman strained at the rowlocks was curiously soothing as they surged through the water.
Before long they left behind the busy stretch of river and the air became fresher. Trees, newly clothed in green, dipped their branches into the turgid depths of the water and ducks paddled alongside, quacking raucously. Emmanuel lay face down at the back of the boat, trailing his fingers and snatching at floating leaves. Every so often he turned to give Susannah a broad smile over his shoulder.
William intercepted one of the boy’s smiles and his own lips twitched in amusement. ‘It would appear I have unwittingly given two inmates of the Captain’s House a free pass out of gaol for the day.’
‘For all his size, Emmanuel is no more than a boy,’ said Susannah. ‘He chafes at being confined.’
‘My aunt has kept him by her side for too long. It’s time he was put to work where he can use his strength.’
Susannah wondered if William planned to send Emmanuel away, having persuaded Agnes that Joseph could take his place. No doubt he would wish to keep his son by his side. ‘But what else could Emmanuel do?’ she asked.
‘He should be sent back to the plantation.’
Impulsively Susannah reached out and clutched at William’s sleeve. ‘Please, don’t do that! He’s terrified of being sent to work in the fields. His father died horribly after the overseer beat him.’
William raised his eyebrows. ‘I should have thought he would be happiest back in Barbados but it is true that life as a field hand is hard for those who do not obey.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘You take an interest in the boy?’
‘I have come to know him well after all the hours we spend together in Agnes’s company. I had not imagined I would ever become friends with an African but in many ways he is no different from how I remember my brother, Tom.’
‘And now Joseph is to take Emmanuel’s place. Will you take an interest in him, too?’
‘Why, yes, I suppose I will.’ How could she not be interested in a child who was the product of such an unusual union?
‘Perhaps you will teach him his lessons?’
Susannah opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. She had been about to ask if an African child, or half-African anyway, was capable of learning to read but it seemed an impolite question since Joseph was William’s son.
‘Do I surmise that you were about to ask if Joseph is intelligent enough to learn his lessons?’
‘I have little experience by which to judge him,’ said Susannah in as cool a voice as she could manage. Damn him! How did he so often know what she was thinking?
‘I believe him entirely capable of learning to read and I believe you are entirely capable of teaching him.’
‘I’m honoured,’ she said drily.
‘Think nothing of it.’
Susannah was surprised to see an impish gleam in his eye.
‘It would be a challenge for you and help to pass the time when my aunt is dozing by the fire. Besides, it would please me to see the boy educated. Perhaps, in time, it will allow him to have a better life. Like Emmanuel, he cannot remain a page for ever.’
‘No, I can see that. But what else could he do?’
‘He might find work as a superior servant. But, of course, he is your slave to do with as you see fit.’
‘Not while I am dependent upon Agnes to keep him. Besides, I don’t like the idea of owning another human being. I hadn’t thought about it until I came to know Emmanuel. Surely it cannot be right that men and women are stolen from their homes to be sold into slavery, can it?’
‘I agree with you but others would not. Whole fortunes are built upon slavery.’
‘Joseph is only a child and if I sold him his new master might not be kind to him.’
‘You could free him.’
‘But not until he has grown up and has some means of supporting himself.’
‘Exactly! So we come back to education.’
‘Yes, I see,’ said Susannah thoughtfully. ‘I will do the best I can to help him.’
It was noon when they arrived at their destination. The boatman tied up at a landing stage nestling in amongst bulrushes and Susannah and her companions climbed out. There was little to see apart from trees and fields on the opposite bank. William took her arm. ‘Take care!’ At the end of the landing stage was a door set into the wall. He took a key from his pocket and opened it.
Susannah stepped through the gate into a large orchard. The trees were clouded with blossom whose fragrant perfume scented the air. The grass was long and the hem of her skirt was soon sodden but she barely noticed as she exclaimed in delight at the wildflowers that grew so prolifically amongst the grass. A beehive stood a little way off and the sound of the bees hummed all around.
‘When I was a boy I spent many a happy hour sitting in the branches of this old apple tree,’ said William, smiling. ‘And I learned to my cost not to be greedy with unripe plums from that tree over there. But come, we will go up to the house.’
Susannah marvelled that William was suddenly so approachable and at ease with himself. Perhaps this was the effect Merryfields had upon him?
They left the orchard and walked arm in arm along an avenue of clipped yew trees standing like sentries on either side of the gravel path. Facing them at the end of the avenue was a large house built of brick the colour of faded damask roses, with high gables and tall, twisted chimneys
‘Merryfields,’ said William.
Susannah smiled. ‘It’s beautiful!’
‘Isn’t it? Emmanuel, run up to the house and tell Mr Somerford that we have arrived.’
‘If this was my house I should want to live here,’ said Susannah.
‘Merryfields deserves a family to bring it to life. And I am needed in London.’
‘Could you not also be of use as a country doctor?’
‘Are you trying to be rid of me?’
‘No, of course not!’ She stopped, seeing that he was smiling. He was teasing her. Teasing her! She had come to respect him, to like him, but she never expected him to unbend to this extent.
Roger Somerford, William’s tenant, a jocular middle-aged man with a warm smile, came to greet them.
‘May I introduce my kinswoman,’ said William. ‘Mistress Savage accompanied me today to escape from the noxious air of the city for a few hours.’
‘My wife and daughters are away from home at present,’ said Roger Somerford, a worried frown on his forehead, ‘and, therefore, unable to entertain you while Dr Ambrose and I conclude our business.’
‘Please, do not concern yourself,’ said Susannah. ‘If I may, I’ll take a turn aro
und the garden and sit quietly in the sunshine.’
‘Your blackamoor may go to the kitchen for some refreshment and I will have my servants set up a table in the knot garden and bring you some cakes and ale.’
‘I should like that very much.’
The two men, followed by Emmanuel, walked towards the house and disappeared inside.
Susannah wandered along the paths, stopping to inhale the scent of an early flowering honeysuckle and to examine an urn planted with exotic flowering bulbs from Holland.
After a while Emmanuel came running to tell her that refreshments were waiting for her and she followed him to the knot garden where a small table had been set up on the gravel amongst the clipped box hedges. A young maid waited to offer her a finger bowl and a fresh napkin and to pour her some ale and press her to eat a cake or two. After the girl had returned to the kitchens, Susannah ate two of the delicious little cakes, which were sprinkled with walnuts and sugar, licking her fingertip and collecting up the last crumbs.
Emmanuel watched her with hungry brown eyes and she teased him a little as her hand hovered over the last cake. Then she relented and handed it to Emmanuel. ‘Stay here and enjoy it. I want to walk a little on my own.’
‘Yes, missus,’ he said, beaming. ‘Thank you, missus.’
She dropped her napkin and bent down to retrieve it. As she sat up again she was aware of Emmanuel’s gaze fixed upon the low neckline of her gown and flushed, conscious that pregnancy had magnified her usually modest décolletage. She supposed Emmanuel had reached an age when such things were of interest to him.
Rising from her chair without catching his eye, she went to explore a shady alley of pleached limes, which led to a pool with a splashing fountain in the centre. She let the cool water run through her fingers and then spied a stone bench in the sunshine by the garden wall. She sat down, revelling in the peace and quiet, so different from London where the sounds of the city were always present. It was a secret and special place that no one outside these garden walls would even know existed. How was it possible for William to own Merryfields and bear not to live there, she wondered?
The Apothecary's Daughter Page 20
