Susannah watched him as he ate; she had to stop herself from smoothing a lock of dark hair off his forehead. Lines of exhaustion were etched round his mouth and she worried for him.
At last he wiped his fingers on a napkin and eased back with a sigh.
‘Better?’ she asked.
The candles on the table between them cast shadows up onto his face, forming dark hollows under his cheekbones. He nodded and she waited.
‘I’ve been to Bedlam again.’
Enclosed within the intimate circle of candlelight the rest of the world seemed far away. ‘Was it very terrible?’ she asked.
‘It’s impossible to describe the horror of it. The inmates are lost souls. Their terror eats into my mind and I cannot sleep.’
‘But you have tended their ailments and eased their pain.’
‘It’s not enough. No one cares what happens to them; their families have cast them into hell.’ He buried his face in his hands.
Uncertain, embarrassed, Susannah reached out and touched his arm. ‘Someone must care about them or you would not have been sent for.’
‘A mother with a guilty conscience asked me to visit her son. Seventeen years old and confined for stammering and the falling sickness! Most of the time he is as well as you or I. He should never have been sent to such a place.’ His voice broke and he swallowed. ‘But he died of the bloody flux and will no longer be an embarrassment to his family.’
‘Can nothing be done to help the other inmates?’
‘There are too many of them.’
‘But you comforted that poor boy as he was dying.’
‘To save one minnow from a raging torrent doesn’t help the rest.’
‘Yet you made a difference to him.’
William took his hands away from his face and stared at her. ‘Yes, I suppose I did.’
Susannah picked up the candlesticks. ‘It’s late.’ He followed her from the chapel as she lit the way along the corridor. She stopped outside the door of her bedchamber and handed him one of the candles, curiously reluctant to say goodnight. ‘I think you will sleep now,’ she said.
He smothered a yawn. ‘Perhaps I will. God knows, I’m tired enough. Goodnight, Susannah. And thank you.’
Before she had time to realise what was happening he had pulled her to him and dropped a kiss on her forehead. Without a word, he made his way off along the corridor.
She watched him disappear round the turn while her heartbeat skipped and a sudden warmth climbed up her throat. She stood still for a moment in happy amazement, unwilling to break the spell, and then went into her room.
The next morning Susannah was combing Agnes’s hair when William knocked on the bedchamber door.
‘I came to speak with you, Aunt,’ he said.
‘Could it not have waited until I’m dressed?’
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘What is so important that it cannot wait?’
‘Susannah is too pale from being so much shut up.’ He sat on the edge of the bed and took Agnes’s hand. ‘She should take a walk in the fresh air and put the roses back in her cheeks for the sake of the child, don’t you think? And I will sit beside you this morning. It is a long time since we have had a cosy chat, isn’t it, Aunt?’
The old woman’s face broke into a happy smile. ‘It will be like the old days, before you became so serious. Put on my cap, Susannah, and you may leave us.’
Outside in the sunshine, Susannah almost skipped down the street. She breathed in deeply, not caring for the moment that the air carried the stink of putrefaction from the plague pit in the churchyard two streets away. She was free! As if in tune with her high spirits, the baby danced within her and she pressed her fingers to her stomach, laughing at the wonder of it.
An old man, hobbling by, looked at her strangely and crossed over to the other side of the street.
Before long she had come to Martha’s house and was knocking on the door.
‘What a lovely surprise! It’s been weeks since I saw you,’ exclaimed Martha as she kissed her cheek. ‘Come into the garden and tell me all your news.’
In the dappled shade of the apple tree Martha’s eldest child, Patience, rocked a cradle, draped with muslin to keep out the flies.
Inside Susannah saw her godson dozing peacefully with his thumb in his mouth. His cheeks, flushed with sleep, were as perfect as a ripe peach. Her heart turned over with sudden love for him. ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ she breathed.
‘Especially when he’s asleep,’ said his mother with a proud smile.
‘I can hardly believe that by the end of the summer I will have my own baby to rock in his cradle.’ If I don’t die in childbed. She pushed away the thought and forced herself to smile at her friend.
‘Sit on the bench and try some of the gingerbread Patience made today,’ said Martha, picking up a small shirt from the pile of mending beside her and threading her needle.
‘You look very well,’ she said a moment later, glancing at Susannah’s stomach.
‘Growing fatter by the minute, you mean! And I’ll be even fatter if I eat too many of these delicious gingerbread men.’
‘Not fatter, but the baby is growing and your bodice is too small.’
‘I feel like a sausage that’s too large for its skin. I have let out my skirts twice already and I fear there is no more material left in the seams.’
‘I can lend you some looser gowns, if you like. I hope I shall not need them again for a while.’
Susannah put her hand to her side, unable to contain her smile. ‘My baby is moving all the time now. It’s so strange to think of him like a little fish swimming around in a bowl.’
‘It is one of God’s many miracles.’
‘Martha, you cannot imagine how much I want this baby now! Since Father married Arabella I have felt so alone but this child will be my very own to love. He gives me a whole new reason for being.’
Martha took Susannah’s hands, her hazel eyes shining. ‘I am happy to see that you are not afraid any more.’
‘Of course I’m afraid! But I’m trying very hard not to be. In some ways I’m more terrified than ever. Now I am frightened not only for myself but for my baby too. I never imagined I should have a child and I cannot bear the thought that something dreadful might happen to him.’
‘You must put your trust in God’s hands, Susannah.’
‘Were you never anxious about dying in childbed?’
Martha glanced at her brood of children playing with their hoops and spinning tops at the end of the garden. ‘Of course! Usually it was in the depths of the night when the Devil tries to worm his way into your dreams. My deepest fear is always the thought of leaving my babies with no mother to care for them. But as you can see, it is God’s will to keep me in good health.’
‘Then I beg you to pray for me and my baby.’
‘I already do,’ said Martha. ‘Now tell me your news. How does life go on in the Captain’s House? Do you find William less stern as you come to know him?’
‘I think …’ Susannah hesitated. ‘I think he is kinder than you might imagine from his manner. He rarely smiles but is selfless in helping those less fortunate than himself.’
‘And your days are not too onerous in Mistress Fygge’s employ?’
‘I never forget my good fortune. She is a considerate employer, even though a little crabby at times since she is always in pain.’ Susannah sighed. ‘But sometimes the days seem overlong. Reading aloud and helping an old lady to decide what to wear each day are trivial pursuits. I have skills which are now wasted and there is a lack of freedom, which irks me. Sometimes I think I am no more free than Henry’s slaves.’
‘But Mistress Fygge has allowed you to keep them?’
‘William persuaded her.’ Susannah paused. ‘He takes a special interest in them since he knew Phoebe and her son from the time when he worked for his uncle in Barbados. He asked me to teach little Joseph his letters. He is an engaging child and I cannot hel
p but become fond of him.’
‘He is capable of learning then?’
‘Indeed he is! Although I fear he would prefer to be running around in the garden with Emmanuel, seeking out mischief.’
Martha smiled. ‘Like all boys.’
‘But his mother doesn’t like me teaching him.’
‘Tell me about her.’
‘Her appearance is curious to my eyes but there is something strangely attractive about her. Her eyes are sleepy and she moves with a languorous grace. Still, I don’t like her. She watches me all the time and it makes the skin on the back of my neck prickle. To everyone else in the household she appears to know her place but she looks at me as if she hates me.’
‘Why would she?’
‘I’m not sure but she took against me from the minute she saw me. Then, last week, the silversmith delivered two silver collars, which Agnes had commissioned to match the one Emmanuel wears. It was the most extraordinary thing, Phoebe didn’t even lift her gaze from the floor as I fastened the collar in place round her neck and she said nothing but I could feel waves of loathing emanating from her as strongly as the stench arising from a plague pit.’
‘Why should she dislike such a costly gift? Surely you must have imagined it!’
‘I assure you, I did not.’ Susannah stopped, wondering if she should share her secret with Martha. She so longed to talk about it to someone. ‘There is something else,’ she said.
‘What is that?’
‘I overheard something which troubles me.’
‘Oh?’
‘It was when the slaves arrived. You see, Joseph was born while William was working on his uncle’s plantation. I heard William tell Agnes that Joseph is his son.’
‘No!’ Martha’s hands flew up to cover her mouth. ‘But she’s an African! Surely he couldn’t …’
‘He must have,’ said Susannah. ‘Did I say that Joseph’s skin is an unusual light brown, neither dark nor white? I can’t bear to think of it but each time I look at her, and then at Joseph, I am reminded of what must have occurred and it throws me into turmoil.’
‘Then you must not think of it!’ said Martha firmly.
‘I cannot help it. And then, at our wedding, Henry and William argued. I didn’t understand at the time but now, when I think about it …’
‘What?’ Martha’s eyes were very wide and she leaned forward in her chair, her mending forgotten.
‘I’d heard them quarrelling, you see. William said to Henry, “I don’t want you to bring them here!” and Henry poked William in the chest and said that he’d promised.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Henry had grown up with Phoebe and Erasmus and was fond of them. I believe he thought he could persuade William to do right by them once they were in England. After all, Joseph is William’s son.’
‘You do not think he and Phoebe still …’
‘No! No, I’m sure he doesn’t.’ Susannah stood up and paced about. ‘Of course not. It must have happened only once. Perhaps he had taken too much rum and his baser instincts got the better of him.’
‘It upsets you to think of it, doesn’t it? Perhaps you are jealous?’
‘Jealous? Of Phoebe?’
‘Of any woman who attracts William’s attention.’
‘What nonsense!’
‘Is it?’
‘Of course it is!’ Then she remembered the way William had pulled her close and kissed her forehead the other night and all at once became uncomfortably warm.
James stirred in his cradle and began to whimper.
Susannah picked him up and paced briskly around the garden, patting his back to soothe his cries, but she saw Martha looking at her with a knowing smile on her lips.
Ghosts and Shadows
June
1666
Chapter 17
It was a combination of Mistress Oliver’s heavy hand with the boiled mutton pudding and the warmth of the June night that kept Susannah awake. Moonlight bathed the room in a silvery luminosity far too bright for sleep. She kept her eyes tight closed and attempted to recapture the delightful dream she’d had of the child in the orchard but it remained elusive. The baby within her sensed her restlessness and performed a somersault, causing another wave of heartburn which forced her to rise. The floorboards creaked under her bare feet, echoing into the stillness of the night as she paced restlessly up and down. She pushed the window open wider and leaned out, the stone sill pressing into the hard swell of her belly. Lifting her hair off her neck, she allowed the soft breeze to cool her skin.
The sound of the watchman calling the hour drifted over the rooftops and cartwheels rattled across cobbles, making her shiver as she wondered if it was a dead cart making for the plague pit. Whatever was to become of them all? There was no sign that the plague was abating. Apprehension for the future, never far away, gripped her again.
A bat flitted across her line of vision and she watched as another joined it, weaving in and out of each other’s flight path in a swooping ballet. Then her gaze was caught by a movement down in the garden.
Straining her eyes, she saw a figure walking slowly along the cloisters. The bright moon illuminated it briefly before it disappeared into the deep shadows of the arcading to reappear again a second later in the silvery light.
Then she heard the sound, a low keening of despair rising on the breeze that made her heart clench at the sheer desolation of it.
The figure emerged again from the shadows, head bowed and hands clasped.
Susannah caught her breath.
It was Phoebe who stood in the little patch of light, sobbing as if her heart was broken.
Confusion gripped Susannah. She stared down at the other woman. Her usual instinct would be to run to aid any soul in such terrible torment but their mutual dislike made her hesitate.
Then Phoebe disappeared.
Susannah peered again into the darkness, waiting, but not a soul stirred.
Susannah hurried along Fleet Street with her head down, picking her way through the muddy puddles left by the recent summer thunderstorm. Several of the shops in Fleet Street had the shutters up and the usual cheerful bustle was absent but then, most streets in the city were the same. A beggar, slumped against the wall, stirred and hopefully offered his stumps to her for inspection. She fumbled in her pocket and threw a few coins into his hat, wrinkling her nose at the smell of him, even though she kept her distance. No one in their right mind would risk sickness by approaching any stranger, never mind a beggar, in such times.
A dead rat, monstrously swollen and heaving with maggots, lay in her path and she fought down a wave of nausea as she stepped over it. Even the rats were dying! Not far to go now. A few yards away the sign depicting the Unicorn and the Dragon creaked back and forth in the breeze. She pushed open the shop door and went inside.
Her father glanced up from the counter, his face breaking into a smile of welcome. ‘Susannah, my dearest!’
His chin was rough against her cheek and she breathed in his familiar and comforting scent. She noticed that he no longer wore the splendid black wig in the shop but had retreated into the old brown one while he worked.
Holding her at arm’s length, he studied her face. ‘Are you well? You look blooming, though perhaps a little tired?’
‘I’m finding it difficult to sleep. The baby kicks me awake and I have heartburn. Peppermint and fennel seed are what I need to soothe my stomach.’
‘Infuse it in a pint of boiling water and …’ He stopped. ‘Sorry! Habit. You know as well as anyone how to prepare peppermint tea. It’s such a shame that you can no longer …’
‘Yes, isn’t it? Still, I was able to feel useful by rubbing some oil of cloves onto Peg’s gums the other day to relieve her toothache.’
Cornelius sighed. ‘I miss you more than I can say. Not only for your assistance in the dispensary but for all the discussions we had,’ he smiled, ‘arguments even, about the latest plays and books. Arabella, f
or all her virtues, doesn’t read or take an interest in current affairs. Sometimes I wish …’
‘Me, too.’
Sudden tears glinted in his eyes. ‘I’m a sentimental old fool. Take no notice of me.’ He took down one of the gallypots, shook out some dried peppermint, twisted it up in a piece of paper and handed it to her. ‘Will you go upstairs and see the twins? Arabella is in the parlour and I’m sure she would be glad of some feminine company. She finds it lonely here.’
The last thing Susannah wanted was to pay a duty visit to Arabella but the pleading look in her father’s eyes made her nod. ‘Samuel and Joshua will have grown since I saw them last.’
‘Indeed they have and their lung power has increased with them.’
‘Do they still keep you awake in the night?’
‘Not so much, thankfully. Although they are teething now and often fractious.’
‘Shall you come up to sit with us?’
‘In a little while. I have some urgent prescriptions to prepare. Yet another family struck down by the plague in Thames Street.’
‘Then let me help you. I will visit Arabella afterwards.’
Susannah found her old, stained brown apron still hanging on the hook in the dispensary and wrapped it round herself like an old friend before she set to work.
‘There seems to be no way to control the pestilence,’ Susannah said. ‘William is out at all times of the day and night tending to the sick. He cannot go on like this without becoming ill himself.’ She gripped the edge of the counter until her knuckles were white, overcome by her fears again.
‘He often comes to see me for his prescriptions,’ said Cornelius. ‘He has become the closest thing to a best friend to me since poor Richard was taken. Those physicians and apothecaries that are left in the city are stretched beyond all normal capabilities. Yet what else can we do but help those who need us?’
Once the medicines were made up and poured into bottles, Susannah took off her apron and reluctantly hung it up on the hook again.
‘Since Ned has not yet returned I must deliver these straight away,’ said Cornelius.
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