Death at the Wedding Feast jr-14

by Deryn Lake

  ‘What shall I do with him, Master Hazell?’

  ‘You can’t turn him out on the streets, Sir. It wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘No.’

  John looked thoughtful and the boy, sensing hope, gazed at him, suddenly bright-eyed.

  ‘Tell me,’ said the Apothecary, still not smiling. ‘Is it your custom to thieve?’

  The boy looked startled, his weepy eyes opening wide. ‘No, Sir, honest, I never done it before. I was desperate.’

  ‘I believe him, Sir,’ interrupted Robin. ‘I mean to say you only have to look at him. He’s thoroughly wretched.’

  ‘I tend to agree,’ said John, still keeping up his act of extreme severity, though, head averted from the child, he winked one vivid eye at Master Hazell. He turned back to the boy. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Frederick, Sir. After the King’s father.’

  At last a grin spread over John’s features as he thought of this highly unlikely pair of people. Frederick, so anxious to please, grinned toothily in reply, but the anxiety showed through the smile and the Apothecary knew that he was going to make a fool of himself once again.

  ‘All right,’ he said sternly. ‘I am going to give you a chance, Fred. I may call you that, mayn’t I?’

  Fred nodded, his expression hovering between hope and despair.

  ‘I am going to offer you the job of general factotum in this establishment. No, don’t say a word until I have explained. In the apartment upstairs live some law students who need someone to clean up and look after them. Also, I shall need someone to assist Master Hazell with the general keeping of good order in this establishment. Now, if so much as a leaf goes missing from one of the herbs, if the students complain that their money is short, then out you go and no two ways about it. Do you understand?’

  ‘Oh yes, Sir. Oh thank you, Sir. You’ve saved my life, Sir. Honest you have.’

  John rearranged his features in an effort to look stern again but had to give up. Fred was staring at him with such an honest look that, once more, the Apothecary felt his heart melt.

  However, he spoke seriously. ‘You will be answerable to my chief apprentice, Mr Purle. He will report your behaviour direct to me and I shall ask him for regular bulletins. Now, Fred, there is a very small bedroom in the attic, above the lawyers’ rooms. You may sleep there. As for food, you shall eat with the other apprentices and build yourself up.’

  Fred opened his mouth to speak but John had already addressed himself to the red-headed youth who was now waiting anxiously.

  ‘Master Hazell,’ he said, ‘you can go home and tell your father to contact me. If you would still like the position I will be most delighted to have you as my new apprentice.’

  Later that evening John sat in the library thinking that he must be losing his reason. About to go away, on the brink of fatherhood, he had taken three new people into his life, all of whom — with the exception of Factotum Fred — would hold positions that, with varying degrees of responsibility, could make or break what he now realized was going to be the biggest commercial venture of his life. Could skinny Jacquetta Fortune really take charge of a business empire? Could Gideon Purle, still not yet qualified, be trusted to run a shop and bottle more water in his spare time? Had he made the right decision about appointing Robin Hazell as his new apprentice?

  The Apothecary gave a wry smile. The only one about whom he had no doubts was poor, wretched Fred. For if the little chap turned out to be a regular thief then John would have no hesitation in turning him out. If, however, Fred decided to be as honest a man as any, then he could stay and make good. Maybe even become a future apprentice.

  John caught himself up. He would be thirty-seven on his next birthday; forty was staring him in the face. He wished, suddenly, that his father still lived with him. Or, indeed, that Elizabeth had agreed to marry him so that he might have someone with whom to share his worries. He poured himself another sherry and opened his book, but could not concentrate on reading.

  Then the door opened and Rose, in night attire, stood there.

  ‘Good evening, Papa.’

  ‘Rose!’ he exclaimed. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’

  ‘I just felt that I wanted to hug you.’

  ‘Then come here, little bundle, and do so.’

  She climbed on to his knee and he stroked her spirals of red hair.

  ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’

  ‘I woke up and felt you were sad.’

  ‘True, I was feeling a bit melancholy. I thought I was getting old.’

  ‘But we’re all doing that. Even your baby…’ She stopped speaking very suddenly and gazed into space. Then she let out a delightful giggle. ‘… is getting older every minute.’

  ‘What was the laughing about?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She clutched her hands together in childish glee.

  ‘Something amused you.’

  She shook her head, her eyes twinkling. ‘It’s a secret.’

  ‘So you’re not going to tell me?’

  ‘No.’

  John shook his head with a smile and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I suggest you go off to bed, young lady.’

  ‘Walk with me. It’s a trifle frightening on the stairs.’

  ‘Very well. Let’s both carry candles and then we’ll scare the hobgoblins away.’

  Hand in hand they climbed the staircase and John tucked her into bed, and left one of the candles in her room as an extra night light. The house was quiet and he realized that Jacquetta Fortune had also retired for the night. While Gideon, no doubt, was sleeping the sleep of sheer exhaustion in the attic above.

  Tomorrow, thought John, I must leave for Devon and whatever fate has in store for me next. Hoping that all would be well in his absence, the Apothecary retired to the library to try to read some more of his book.

  Five

  John rose early the next morning, even before daylight, so that he lingered for a moment by his window watching as the sky lightened to the colour of a seal’s pelt. It was going to be a raw day for his travels, he thought miserably, and called downstairs for some really hot water to wash and shave in. Half an hour later he was dressed and his clothes packed in a small trunk which he would be able to handle without help. Naturally he had wanted to take more garments and make a show, but practicality had triumphed over pretentiousness and the Apothecary had reluctantly packed only a few fashionable rigs.

  When he descended the stairs for his favourite meal, John found to his astonishment that Jacquetta and Gideon were already seated at table and had started to eat. They both looked up in some surprise.

  Gideon rose. ‘We knew you were going early but had no idea exactly when, Sir. Forgive me for not eating with the servants but Mrs Fortune and I have a great deal to discuss.’

  ‘Of course. I think you should waive that rule, Gideon. I am delighted to see you both up and about at this hour.’

  It was five-thirty and John could not help but be pleased that the people in charge of his new business should be taking it so seriously. He turned to Jacquetta Fortune. ‘I hope these hours aren’t going to prove too much for you.’

  She laughed. ‘Because I am thin, do you mean? Don’t worry, Mr Rawlings, I shall soon put on weight with portions like this served up to me every day.’

  ‘Excellent. That’s what I like to hear.’

  And John cut himself a large helping of ham and devoured it hungrily.

  He had asked Irish Tom to come round with the coach at six fifteen and so, between mouthfuls, explained to Gideon all about Fred and his deception, then how the real Robin Hazell had rushed in and the truth had been revealed.

  ‘So you have ended up with two boys, Sir?’ his apprentice exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, and I think they will both be useful. Now, Gideon, when Robin returns with his father and indentures are to be drawn up I want you to oversee everything up to the point where my signature is required. Explain to them that I will be back in four weeks but tell the boy
that he can start work immediately. If he is agreeable then make the very best of him. I think he is level-headed and industrious. He should be extremely helpful to you during my absence. As for the other child I want you to watch him like a hawk. If his thieving habits return then turn him out and no questions asked. But if he does his duties well then reward him by raising his wages to a shilling a week.’

  ‘Surely that is a little overgenerous, Sir.’

  ‘A little, perhaps. But I believe the lad has potential and I want you to encourage that if possible.’

  ‘I shall do as you ask, Mr Rawlings.’

  ‘And I,’ chimed in Jacquetta, ‘shall launch your business with some attack, I promise you.’

  ‘Then,’ said John, hastily swallowing a pickled herring, ‘I shall go away content.’

  It was his intention to get a flying coach to Devon. These were faster and more comfortable than the stage but cost a good deal more. However, money was not the point at issue, it was the fact of actually obtaining a place in one. The system was to get four passengers to share the cost, but if only three persons were interested then the fare would automatically rise. John’s fear that the places would already be taken was allayed by the fact that two postilions were standing by a rather highly polished vehicle drawn up by a sign which read, ‘The Exeter Fast Coach for the Safe and Reliable Conveyance of Passengers. Fare 5d a mile. Two stops for Dining. Horses changed regular.’ The cost was exorbitant but time was of the essence. Bidding farewell to Irish Tom, John booked himself a place and got inside.

  Staring out of the window he thought back to the last time he had made this journey, that time travelling on the public stage, and all the terrible events which had followed. But he threw off the memories. He was going to Devon to await the birth of his second child and see Elizabeth through what would undoubtedly be a difficult experience for a woman of her age. John set his jaw, then was immediately diverted by the entrance of a pretty woman of about thirty-five. She smiled, bowed her head in acknowledgement and went to sit at the back. But a few moments later she gave up her seat when a bashful young man, hand-in-hand with an equally bashful girl, entered and enquired if this was the post chaise to Exeter. They were so obviously madly in love and probably newly married as the female had not a chaperone in sight, that to have kept them apart would have been cruel beyond belief.

  ‘Do take my seat,’ she said to the man, who bowed then banged his head on the coach’s ceiling. She moved over to John, with a great deal of clambering. ‘May I sit next to you, Sir?’

  ‘It will be my pleasure,’ he answered politely.

  As she sat down one of the postilions put his head through the window. ‘Well, we’ve a full complement, ladies and gents, so we’ll be off. Ready, Rob?’

  ‘Aye.’

  It was a four-horse team pulling a fairly light weight, and so they made good time, especially as the coach was built to literally fly across the countryside, its high back wheels eating up the miles. A glance behind him told the Apothecary that the young couple were locked in a deep embrace, while the woman sitting beside him was reading a novel as best she could with the jolting and swaying. He closed his eyes and when he woke up it was to find that they had covered the thirty miles or so between the Gloucester Coffee House and Bagshot and were briefly stopping to change the horses.

  He bowed his head to his fellow passenger. ‘I’m so sorry, I indulged in a little snooze. I hope my snoring did not keep you awake.’

  She laughed. ‘It was a light, pleasant buzz. Allow me to be so forward as to introduce myself. I am Lettice James, a resident of Exeter where my husband is employed as a merchant.’

  ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Ma’am. I am John Rawlings, an apothecary of Shug Lane, Piccadilly, London.’

  ‘And what are you doing travelling to Exeter, Mr Rawlings, if I may make so bold?’

  John felt he could hardly say that he was travelling to see his mistress who was about to give birth to their child, so muttered something about visiting friends.

  Mrs James nodded. ‘Anyone I might know? I am quite a socialite in my quiet way.’

  The Apothecary felt truly uncomfortable and could think of no answer except the truth. ‘Lady Elizabeth di Lorenzi — or the Marchesa if you prefer it.’

  ‘I don’t really. I prefer English titles. Lady Elizabeth, now let me see. She has not been seen at any social events for the last…’ She ticked them off on her fingers. ‘… five months or so. Tell me, is she unwell? Are you visiting her in a professional capacity?’

  John hesitated, wondering what to reply. Eventually he said, ‘No, just as a friend.’

  ‘Then you will know the reason why she has been absent, surely.’

  The Apothecary stared into her face and realized that she was not as attractive as he had first thought. There was a certain hardness about her eyebrows and her lips were thinner than they had initially appeared. He mentally put her down as Exeter’s queen of gossip.

  ‘I think she has been busy with her numerous business interests,’ he answered.

  ‘Business interests?’ said Mrs James, all aflutter at some juicy piece of new information.

  ‘Indeed. Her late husband, you know. He left her vast estates in Italy and many and varied companies. Export and import. Wine, lace — you know the sort of thing.’ He waved a hand vaguely.

  ‘Really?’ Lettice’s eyes were round with delight at learning some new facts. ‘I had not realized that the Lady Elizabeth is a business woman.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ answered John expansively, ‘she also travels a great deal. Did you not know that?’

  Lettice lowered her eyes. ‘Well, yes. Of course. But Lady Elizabeth is very discreet. She does not boast of her dealings.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Has she been abroad recently?’

  ‘I believe so,’ John answered vaguely. ‘But I am not privy to all her movements.’

  ‘Well, do send her my very best wishes and my earnest hope that she will be gracing our little social gatherings once more.’

  ‘I will certainly pass on your kind thoughts. And now if you will excuse me I shall take a breath of air.’

  He hurried out of the coach and went to the boghouse, conveniently situated beside the inn, only to find Lettice James waiting outside. She blushed and passed within while John returned to the conveyance, only to see the young couple still locked in an embrace. Thinking about the first flush of youth, John took his seat and with the return of the Exeter gossip they were off once more.

  The route taken by the flying coach was not the usual one. In order to speed things up, the carriage passed through Bagshot, then on to Basingstoke and a great push through to Salisbury, where they stopped overnight and had a late dinner.

  John found himself seated at a large trencher table with another two loads of passengers, recently arrived. Lettice, whom he had rather come to mistrust, was sitting some distance away. As for the young couple, they bolted their food and then retired upstairs, accompanied by a good deal of giggling. John could only hope that they did not have a creaking bed or those within earshot would have a disturbed night of it.

  The next morning saw them leave Salisbury at seven o’clock. Lettice looked tired and yawned greatly, whispering to John that, just as he had thought, she had had a room next door to the honeymooners and as a result had had hardly a wink of sleep. The young people themselves, appearing much the worse for wear, climbed on to the back seat and instantly fell asleep. John, who had been forced to share a room with a nifty little tailor from Woodyeats, who slept silently as a cat which he rather resembled, felt in fine fettle. Fortunately for him the inquisitive Mrs James dozed off at once and so the Apothecary, with a great stirring of his heart which he always felt in the beautiful countryside through which he was now passing, was free to gaze through the large front window at the scenery.

  They stopped once more at Dorchester, where they dined, and then pushed on through Honiton to Exeter where they arrived as the dusk of evening
was just casting a shadow over the land. John, as courtesy demanded, saw Mrs James into a waiting hackney carriage, doffed his hat to the two youngsters who were plunging into The Half Moon with alacrity, and turned in the direction of the livery stables that he had used before.

  Wary as he was of riding, he did not like the look of a vast chestnut stallion that was led out for him, clomping over the cobblestones and baring its teeth as soon as it saw him.

  ‘Have you got nothing a bit smaller?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘Sorry, Sir, but this be the last beast left. Night’s falling and all the horses are hired. Strawberry’s all right as long as you let him know who’s master.’

  ‘Oh God,’ the Apothecary muttered, and gamely put his foot in the stirrup which, even with the mounting block, was a very long way up. Finally, with much heaving of his backside from the stable lads, he was seated. At which the horse took off, furiously going out of the yard, and down the street as if all the devils from hell were after it.

  ‘Whoa,’ shouted John and pulled hard on the creature’s reins, at which it slowed its pace a little — but not a lot.

  So it was with great speed that John left the city behind and started to traverse the countryside outside. With every step the animal took he felt that he would be thrown.

  ‘Stop that! Behave yourself! Slow down, you fiend,’ he shouted at various intervals. But Strawberry took no notice whatsoever and continued to plunge onwards as if its life depended on it. The Apothecary had a vision of himself shooting over the animal’s head and landing in a ditch, and even while he was trying to control the horse his hat flew away and he was left with his cinnamon curls flying into a tangled whirl like those of a rain-soaked scarecrow. And finally that which he had been dreading throughout the whole terrible ordeal happened. A fox, startled by the sound of approach, bolted from its lair right at Strawberry’s feet. The stallion came to a dead stop and John whizzed over its head and on to the ground below, where he landed in a boggy piece of earth. Looking up dazedly he saw that Strawberry had turned and was bolting back to Exeter like a racehorse.