by Deryn Lake
‘Yes… I mean no. Thank you kindly. How much do I owe you?’
‘Three shillings and six pence.’
‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’
The young man took the package that Gideon had wrapped up for him and paid the money. Then he raised his hat — and bumped straight into the door post on the way out.
Ten
The next morning John ordered the coach to be brought round at seven o’clock. Irish Tom eventually turned up at half past, swearing like an old sailor, saying that one of the horses had cast a shoe and that he had had to take him round to the farrier. The Apothecary, still recovering from his riotous journey to London and the rather odd day that followed, said nothing but climbed aboard and fell fast asleep.
They reached Kensington in record time, or so it seemed to him — the horse appearing to have a new sense of joie de vivre for having had its hoof attended to and inspiring its fellow — and interrupted Sir Gabriel sitting at the breakfast table reading a copy of The Gentleman’s Magazine while Rose perched quietly nearby, drawing a picture in a copy book. They looked up as John entered the room unannounced and both gave him a smile before his daughter rushed into his arms. How sweet she smelled and, as always, John was vividly reminded of his late wife, Emilia, whom Rose resembled in so many ways.
‘My dear child,’ said Sir Gabriel, who sat in a long gown and turban with jewelled slippers upon his feet. ‘We did not expect you quite so early.’
‘I am sorry, Papa. It was just that I was anxious to see you both.’
‘How are your sons?’ asked Rose and looked at him with eyes twinkling.
‘You little devil,’ John answered, chucking her under the chin, ‘you knew very well that they were going to be twins, didn’t you? How did you do that?’
‘I get pictures inside my head sometimes.’ She lowered her voice. ‘But don’t talk about it because it upsets Grandpa.’
John crouched down so that he was level with her eyes. ‘Does it? Then we won’t mention it in his presence.’ He stood up again.
‘What are their names, Papa?’
‘Did I forget to write that?’
‘You most certainly did, my boy.’ This from Sir Gabriel. ‘What are you calling them?’
‘Jasper and James. They are truly identical, Sir. I think you will really love them.’
‘I wish I could see them.’
And there was a wistful sound in the old man’s voice. John stared at him and saw that the years were beginning to sit heavily on Sir Gabriel’s shoulders.
‘Come with me, both of you,’ he said impulsively. ‘I shall be returning to Devon in the next few days. Please regard this as a holiday and keep me company, do.’
‘But the Marchesa,’ said his father, ‘we cannot intrude on her hospitality.’
‘She invited you both,’ lied John. ‘And if she should find it too much to cope with there are plenty of places in Exeter where you might stay. Please come with me, Pa. I really want you to see my sons.’
‘Yes, Grandpapa,’ echoed Rose. ‘You know you will enjoy it.’
Sir Gabriel folded the magazine and laid it on the table, putting his spectacles beside them. Then he sat in silence before announcing, ‘By Jove, I will come with you. As I remember it the Lady Elizabeth plays a damned good hand at whist. I shall enjoy seeing her once more. When do we leave?’
John went up and hugged him, then planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘Father, you have made me totally happy. The journey would not have been complete without you.’
‘And me,’ said Rose quietly.
‘And you, darling girl,’ said John, lifting her up to his shoulder height.
And let it just be hoped and prayed for that Elizabeth will be in agreement, he thought to himself.
Three days later they left London. Irish Tom, pleased as punch to be driving to Devon once more, took the coach and the pair of horses out along the route used by the stages and some of the flying chaises. John had considered that the other means of transport would prove too much for the two vastly differing ages that were to accompany him. So the journey took somewhat longer than usual as Tom kept his team throughout, resting them overnight. Sir Gabriel, with great spirit, enjoyed the journey almost as much as Rose, peering out of the window and exclaiming at the various objects of interest they passed. The fourth member of the party, a nursery maid belonging to Rose, sat beside Irish Tom, much to the enjoyment of both of them.
Deciding that tact was by far the best option, the Apothecary left his father and daughter settled comfortably in an inn in Exeter and took the high road to Elizabeth’s house while daylight still held. Once arrived, he sent Irish Tom to the kitchens and announced himself at the front door. A footman answered.
‘Come in, Mr Rawlings, Sir. The Lady Elizabeth is dining at the moment with the Lady Felicity Sidmouth and the Honourable Miranda Tremayne. Should I announce you?’
‘Yes, if you would.’
The footman knocked on the dining room door and another footman answered. There was a deal of whispering and then the Apothecary was announced in ringing tones. Elizabeth swept to her feet in a rustle of taffeta.
‘My dear, I had not expected you back quite so soon. But I am delighted to see you. Have you dined?’ John shook his head. ‘Then pray join us. You know the other two, of course.’
He bowed to each female present very courteously, his most graceful bow of all being saved for the Honourable Miranda who regarded him with a glittering cat’s eye.
‘And how was London, Mr Rawlings?’ she said, raising her hand to her chin in a delicate gesture.
‘The same,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘Still full of whores, beggars and thieves. Not very different from anywhere else actually.’
‘Oh fie,’ Miranda answered, ‘surely that could not be said of Exeter?’
‘I think it could be said of any metropolis in the world,’ John answered, taking his seat on the Marchesa’s right.
‘You have travelled widely?’ asked Miranda, knowing full well that he had never left the country.
‘Unfortunately my Grand Tour was disturbed by the war but I have met many people who have had experience of living abroad. One in particular was Sir Francis Dashwood. You have heard of him perhaps?’
‘No,’ said Miranda, lying.
‘Well, I have,’ put in Felicity. ‘He’s a notorious rake and ne’er-do-well, I believe.’
‘Remember you are speaking of a peer of the realm,’ Miranda rejoined sharply.
‘I am only telling the truth.’
‘Oh pooh,’ said Miranda.
The two girls were glaring at one another, and to break the awkward silence that fell Elizabeth said, ‘The twins are very well, John.’
He was profuse in his apologies. ‘I am so sorry I didn’t ask. But I thought somehow they would be. With a mother like you how could they be anything else?’
‘How sweetly put,’ said Miranda, dripping honey. ‘Montague and I hope to have several children.’
‘You’ll be lucky,’ Felicity answered spitefully.
‘That’s all you know.’
‘Ladies, please,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I do not think the dinner table a suitable place for such a conversation. Let us reserve it for when we are in private.’
Miranda shot a look in John’s direction and said, ‘Of course. How remiss of me. Gentlemen present and all that.’
‘Yes,’ John answered. ‘I am very much present and intend to remain so for some while. When are you getting married, Miss Tremayne?’
‘In six weeks’ time. The invitations are about to be sent out.’
‘I shall look forward to receiving mine.’ This from Elizabeth.
‘Before then we are giving a betrothal party. Everyone will be there. You must come, Marchesa. And you too, Mr Rawlings.’
For the first time since the Apothecary had arrived, Miranda said something without a sarcastic undertone. Indeed she momentarily looked like an excited child as she glanced from one to the other,
her eyes on fire with excitement.
‘I must go to the manteau makers in Exeter,’ Elizabeth said promptly. ‘I have nothing to wear at all.’
John glanced at her, noting her figure, which was rapidly restoring itself to its pre-pregnancy suppleness. ‘Well I have brought a great trunk packed with clothes for both day and night,’ he said. ‘I am sure something will be suitable.’
Elizabeth looked at him, smiling. ‘So you’ve come in your own coach? In other words, Rose has accompanied you.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and also Sir Gabriel Kent, who is very old now and was so anxious to know the twins.’
‘How lovely,’ she answered. ‘It will be a pleasure to see him again.’ She smiled round at the others. ‘You really must meet Rose, John’s little girl. She is quite adorable.’
‘Just like her father,’ said Miranda, and once more her eyes were full of sarcasm.
After the two visitors had left, John and Elizabeth withdrew to the Blue Drawing Room for a few moments, then crept up to the nursery. The Apothecary felt as if his heart would shatter as he looked at the two small faces, fast asleep, so innocent, yet to learn the wicked ways of the weary world. ‘Oh, how I am going to miss them as they grow older,’ he said with a deep sigh. ‘Elizabeth, could you not change your mind about coming to live in London?’
She laughed humourlessly. ‘And give up this house and this glorious countryside? Never. But surely it would be easier for you to move to Devon?’
‘In a way it would. But my life is in London. My shop is there and now my new business is taking off I would be loath to leave.’
‘And there we have our situation in a nutshell. Both of us have our feet firmly planted in the place in which we feel comfortable. But why are you worried, John? You can come here regularly. You shall not miss the boys growing up.’
‘I would rather be dead than do so. And what of you, sweetheart? Has the arrival of the twins filled the emptiness in your heart?’
She turned to him and he held her close, both arms round her, smelling the glorious scent which she carried with her everywhere, unique to her and her alone.
‘Yes, it has. They are the gift of my middle years. They shall have everything that it is in my power to give them.’
‘But you’re not to spoil them.’
‘That I will never do.’
And he knew it was true. She had too much fire, too much strength to let her boys turn into idle wastrels. John’s thoughts went briefly to the scrapping pair in The Blackamore’s Head — George Beauvoir and Freddy Warwick — and thought what a couple of useless fellows they were, particularly George, whom the Apothecary considered to be extremely obnoxious.
Elizabeth misread his silence. ‘You don’t believe me, do you? I can assure you that I will keep them under control.’
Thinking of her first child, Frederico, and his terrible end, John decided that it was his duty to do all he could to assist in the bringing up of his twin sons. But the perfume of Elizabeth was in his nostrils and the delight of her was in his arms. So he did what any red-blooded man would do and kissed her warmly and lengthily, and temporarily forgot about everything else.
The next day Sir Gabriel and Rose moved into Withycombe House. The first thing Rose did was rush to the nursery where she discovered James and Jasper awake, looking at her with their blue eyes which were already turning to a somewhat darker shade.
‘Oh, you two imps,’ she said, as she leant over their cribs, ‘how I love you and how I shall always love you, even if you go far away from me.’
‘Why? Are they thinking of leaving the country?’ asked Sir Gabriel, who had mounted the great staircase grandly with much use of his cane, which he had tied with two blue ribbons as a token of his esteem.
She turned to her grandfather and winked. ‘Who knows?’ she said, giving him her special smile.
Sir Gabriel did not believe in any such nonsense as second sight, but for all that he could not resist his granddaughter, whom he loved with all his heart. Now he put his hand in hers and let her lead him to the two cribs in which lay two identical babies. Sir Gabriel bent over them and one — he never knew which — stretched up a minute hand and pulled at his immense wig.
‘Oh Jasper, how naughty,’ said Rose. ‘You must be more respectful to Grandfather.’
‘How did you know that was Jasper?’ Sir Gabriel asked, astonished.
‘I didn’t. But it worked, did it not?’
And they both watched as the tiny fingers disentangled themselves from the horsehair and returned to lie peacefully on the blanket.
Sir Gabriel shook his head. ‘What fine, fine boys. I never imagined such a thing possible.’
‘Why was that, Grandpapa?’
He looked a trifle embarrassed. ‘These matters should not be discussed in front of little girls.’
‘I see,’ she said, and the very tone of her voice told him that she knew as much as he did about the whole affair.
John spoke from the doorway. ‘For the first time the four most important people in my life are all together.’
Rose raised her finger to her lips. ‘Hush, Father. Mrs Elizabeth would be most upset if she heard you.’
John glanced guiltily over his shoulder. ‘Well, she’s not in earshot. And you know perfectly well what I mean, Rose. It is a wonderful moment for me to see all my family in one room. So what do you think of them, Father?’
‘I think they are strong, healthy lads and one day will do you great credit, John.’
‘Shall we go downstairs and drink their health?’
‘What a splendid idea. Lead the way.’
But after they had gone Rose sat on a nursery chair and started to croon a strange little lullaby and, unbelievably, the twins began to join in. Not crying but making small sounds to echo their sister’s. Eventually, all three of them fell asleep, and that was how the nursery maid found them. The boys quite peaceful in their cots; Rose, red hair spiralling round her head, curled up in the chair, a smile on her face as she dreamed.
Eleven
A wonderful fortnight ensued, during which the Apothecary spent as much time as was possible with his daughter Rose. It was now high April and the weather typical of the season. Bright, cheerful but boisterous breezes blew amongst the trees, followed by vivid showers. The great house, which stood tall above the River Exe, had rain beating against the windows one minute and the next was full of brilliant sunshine, while rainbows arched high over the river.
John, very much aware that shortly after her birthday at the end of the month Rose would be going to boarding school, determined to make her his favourite companion for these last few weeks that they had together. So while Elizabeth was busy with the twins and Sir Gabriel snoozed in the afternoon sunshine he took her out walking or riding on her pony, while he struggled along beside her on one of Elizabeth’s fiercesome mounts. Thus they many times came to the sea and it was then that John taught his daughter how to swim, she battling hard against the persuasive current, the Apothecary holding her securely round the waist but loosening his grip slightly on each occasion. One day when she was concentrating fiercely he let go altogether and she swam for about a yard before she realized that he was no longer holding her and began to flail. But from that time on it was a question of practice, and Rose soon mastered the technique and swam along beside him quite happily. She somehow seemed to ignore the cold, which John found quite piercing, though she emerged on to the beach chatter-toothed and shivering, her thin little body pale, her hair flaming in the sun.
Sir Gabriel meanwhile spent most of the day when awake playing with the twins — that is, when he was allowed into the nursery by the two fierce women who had control of the place. In this way he was rewarded by their first smile — James’s a day before Jasper’s — and rushed off to fetch Elizabeth to see, whirling through the house, leaning heavily on his great stick. She came back with him and James smiled again, a sight which reduced her to tears before she picked him up and made muc
h of him, handing Sir Gabriel the other twin to hold on his lap, a fact which made the old man weep as well. So everyone was crying when John and Rose walked in, a situation which soon changed to general laughter and happiness for the entire family.
It was a slight surprise to the Apothecary, therefore, when Sir Gabriel said one evening, ‘It is time I was getting back to Kensington, my boy.’
‘Is it, Sir?’ asked John, his svelte eyebrow rising. ‘Why?’
‘Fact is, I am being missed. I am frequently a card partner to Lady Bournemouth and she has written to me in quite anxious terms demanding to know when I am returning. Apparently she is playing with Lord Whatlington, a terrible old bore, and she is most persistent to have me back.’
John smiled, picturing this elderly card school and feeling terribly grateful that his father was still applying his mind to it and, moreover, was treasured by its other members. He found himself praying that Sir Gabriel would die in his sleep and not have to wait for death as he grew iller and iller, gaunt white face staring at him from between the sheets.
‘So I thought I would ask Irish Tom to drive me back in two days’ time.’
John stared at him. ‘But who will go with you?’
‘I shall travel alone, dear boy. What’s wrong with that?’
‘I don’t like the thought of it. In fact I shall accompany you, Sir, if that is agreeable to you.’
‘But you are needed here.’
‘And I am needed in London as well. I just can’t leave Jacquetta Fortune alone to cope with an ever-increasing business. Besides, I need to check on Gideon that he has got the formula correctly. I can’t have second-rate water being sold under my name.’
‘But what about the babies?’
‘They will hardly miss me with all the care and attention they are getting. Anyway I shall only be away a fortnight or so. I have to come back here for various social events.’
‘I suppose there is no chance of the Lady Elizabeth…’
‘Marrying me? Not a hope in hell. That is the situation and I have long ago come to terms with it.’
