Death at Apothecaries' Hall

by Deryn Lake

  The Apothecary looked away upon the instant, but not before he had registered the fact that she had seen him stare at her, had interpreted his gaze correctly, and had returned a look of malice, so strong that it had caused him to shiver.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Strongly resisting the urge to call on Samuel Swann, whose shop and dwelling place lay directly on his route home, John made straight for Nassau Street after the funeral of Tobias Gill. There, having eaten a very light dinner, somewhat to the chagrin of Sir Gabriel’s cook, who was heard to mutter openly about ‘country ways from Kensington’, he ordered a hot tub and soaked in it for an hour, the water being topped up with steaming kettles at regular intervals. That done, John put on his nightshirt and retired to bed, only to have a confusing dream in which both Coralie Clive and Emilia Alleyn featured. Despite this, he woke at first light, dressed himself, and skipping breakfast altogether, a fact that sent the cook into a state of high alarm, headed for Bow Street to await Mr Fielding’s instructions.

  The Magistrate was still at table but welcomed the visitor with a wave of his hand.

  ‘Mr Rawlings, this is a familiar scene for us. How often have we breakfasted together, I wonder? Now take a seat, do. Will you join me in some ham?’

  Mary Ann slanted her pretty eyes. ‘I’ll carve it for you, Mr Rawlings.’

  He glowered at her, Elizabeth having left the room. ‘I’ll cut it myself, thank you, my dear.’

  She flicked her tongue over her lips. ‘Oh, do let me.’

  Narrowing his eyes to slits, the Apothecary said, ‘I alone know how much I want.’

  Mary Ann looked at him most impudently. ‘I am sure I can guess what you would like.’ Then, with a waggle of her hips, she left the room.

  Thinking that one day he would be forced to slap her, John turned to his host. ‘Sir, Miss Clive is ready to go into action tonight.’

  ‘So Jago told me. I have already sent a letter to her requesting that she meet him in The Spaniards, close to The Tabard, at seven o’clock. I shall remain here as a blind man would only get in the way on such an occasion. In the meanwhile, my good friend, I would like you to go and see Mrs Clarke.’

  ‘I had already intended to. What do you want with her?’

  ‘You mentioned to me the night before last that she and Cruttenden had connections, that she once worked for him.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘I desire that you might ask her the best vantage points in that house where a man might hide unnoticed. Similarly regarding the exterior. If she can draw you a plan, so much the better. By the time Miss Coralie goes in to face Cruttenden, I intend to have the place infiltrated by stout men and true.’

  ‘I’m mighty glad to hear it.’

  The Blind Beak moved his face close to that of John. ‘There is no question that this woman Clarke is still in love with the Liveryman? That she might betray our plan to him?’

  ‘I’d stake my life on the fact that she hates him.’

  ‘Then let us hope you are right, my friend. A great deal depends on her and the information she can give us.’

  ‘She will not let us down,’ said John, and hoped most earnestly that he was right, knowing the contrary way in which women’s hearts sometimes led them.

  Because it was still early, the Apothecary decided to spend some time at his shop before he made the journey across river to Southwark. But as no apprentice worthy of the name would dare be at work later than his Master, he arrived after Nicholas, who was already dusting and cleaning and setting the place to rights before opening for the day.

  ‘Sir,’ said the Muscovite in surprise. ‘I hadn’t expected you in today.’

  ‘Oh, why was that?’

  ‘Because you had risen early and left the house as I was stirring, which usually means you are about Mr Fielding’s business.’

  ‘Well, I have been but I am back for a brief while before I go off again.’

  Nicholas’s eyes gleamed. ‘Is there much afoot?’

  ‘A great deal.’

  His apprentice took on a most solemn look. ‘Mr Rawlings, if there are to be doings after dark, Sir, please let me join in. Much as I enjoy studying with you, life has been just a shade dull since our adventures connected to the Peerless Pool. No reflection on yourself Sir. My apprenticeship is one of great interest, but …’

  ‘You’re bored to sobs,’ put in John.

  ‘I wouldn’t state it quite that strongly.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you would like some adventure.’

  ‘I would indeed, Sir.’

  ‘Then be at The Spaniards in Southwark, close to The Tabard, tonight at seven. But Nicholas …’

  ‘Yes, Sir?’

  ‘I warn you that if Joe Jago does not want you involved in this enterprise he will tell you so and you are to abide by his decision without argument. Is that understood?’

  ‘It is indeed.’

  ‘Then be there, but say nothing of this to anyone.’

  ‘My lips are sealed, Mr Rawlings.’

  ‘In that case let us both do a good morning’s work and say no more of it.’

  They set to, opening the doors of the shop early to receive the sick and the suffering who had wreaked havoc upon themselves the night before.

  A belle of fashion who had clearly not gone to bed, as it was far too early for a lady of the beau monde to be upon the town, came in looking somewhat green about the gills.

  ‘Madam, how may I help you?’ asked John.

  She leaned close over the counter, her expression ghastly. ‘Are you to be trusted?’

  ‘Certainly. All my patients are treated in confidence.’

  ‘Then give me something strong. I was indiscreet last night.’

  John’s brows rose but he said nothing.

  ‘With a footman at that. I was in my cups, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So what do you suggest?’

  ‘Common mugwort, Madam. I’ll compound you an infusion straight away.’

  ‘Common? I don’t think I care for that very much.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to have it.’

  ‘There’s nothing else?’

  ‘None so effective. Drink the infusion twice a day and sit over it for six hours daily.’

  The belle turned even greener. ‘Sit on it, you say?’

  ‘Indeed I did, Ma’am.’

  Grabbing the parcel, the belle limped from the shop, and John went into the compounding room where he and Nicholas indulged in silent hysterics.

  ‘I thought ladies were only meant to sit over mugwort for a half hour or so,’ whispered the apprentice.

  ‘They are, but I considered that might keep her out of mischief’

  ‘Oh, dear Lordy!’ said Nicholas, and wiped his streaming eyes.’

  The rest of the morning proceeded without incident and shortly after one o’clock John left the shop and walked briskly to the river, where he hired a boat to take him across to the south bank.

  He landed at Cuper’s Bridge, adjoining Cuper’s Gardens, a pleasant site and one much favoured in the summer months, then set off past the timber yards and tenter grounds until he came to Upper Ground, from which he turned down into The Green Walk, then Bare Lane. From there it was a quick cut across to Bandy Leg, indeed the Apothecary was a fraction early for the appointed hour of three.

  Dr Hensey had already arrived and was in discussion with Harriet, while Matthew played in the garden outside, well wrapped against the chill. They both turned as the cheerful servant showed John into the room.

  The physician bowed, then held out his hand. ‘Mr Rawlings, well timed, Sir. I was just relaying the findings of my old tutor to Mrs Clarke.’

  John produced paper and pencil from an inner pocket. ‘I am most interested in this. I intend to record all you say.’

  ‘Pray do, Sir. Professor Vallier is a leading authority on the falling sickness. Anyway, he maintains that prevention is better than cure and sufferers should adopt a d
aily routine which will minimise the chances of a fit.’ As the Apothecary took notes, Dr Hensey continued. ‘He believes that the dried root of Pellitory of Spain should be chewed in the mouth three times a day, every day without fail. Further, he suggests that for thirty days Matthew should consume four ounces of the juice of Cinquefoil, then have thirty days without it, then thirty days with, and so on.’

  ‘For the rest of his life?’

  ‘Yes. There is no cure for the falling sickness as such but a regime like this will bring it under tight control.’ The physician looked from one to the other of the two avid listeners. ‘And those, my friends, are his findings.’

  ‘Remarkable,’ said John. ‘I would never have thought of such a combination. And the professor has had great success with this treatment?’

  ‘He has indeed, Sir. He has indeed.’

  ‘Tell me,’ asked John curiously, ‘how did you manage to communicate with him in these difficult times? I would have thought it well nigh impossible to get a message into Paris, let alone receive an answer.’

  Florence Hensey smiled and tapped the side of his nose. ‘We have our methods, Sir.’

  ‘You clearly do, and I congratulate you on them. You have done a great service, Dr Hensey.’

  ‘Indeed you have,’ said Harriet, her eyes brighter than John had ever seen them. ‘I thank you most sincerely. Our life will be revolutionised. I might even consider having another child.’ She checked herself ‘Oh dear, have I been indelicate?’

  ‘You are amongst medical men,’ said the physician, and laughed.

  In a moment of true friendship, the Apothecary flung his arm round the other man’s shoulders. ‘I shall be eternally grateful to you for this,’ he said quietly. ‘You have brought happiness back to a rather sad family.’

  ‘We must be practical,’ Harriet put in. ‘Will you send your bill, Dr Hensey? Or I could pay you something on account now?’

  The physician shook his head. ‘You owe me nothing, Madam. I am only grateful that I could introduce something of my tutor’s treatment to this country. For I am sure that Mr Rawlings will prescribe it from now on.’

  ‘I most certainly will. In fact when I have studied Matthew’s progress, I intend to write a brief paper and send it to the Master of the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries.’

  ‘Then the word will be spread,’ said Dr Hensey simply. He picked up his hat and bowed to Harriet Clarke. ‘Madam, I take my leave. I have to see another patient within the hour.’

  She took his hand and held it to her heart, a touching gesture. ‘From there I thank you.’

  ‘No need, Madam. No need.’ And he kissed her fingers and was gone.

  There was a long silence as both stared at the space where he had stood. Then Harriet began to cry, very quietly.

  ‘Relief?’ asked John gently.

  ‘Great relief, together with the belief that the man must be a saint. It would have drained us of money had he charged what his treatment was worth. Michael and I have been worried about it for days.’

  ‘He’s certainly a good soul.’ John changed his tone. ‘Now, Madam, dry your tears. I need your help in another matter entirely.’

  Harriet turned away for a few moments and by the time she swung back to look at him was entirely in control of herself The Apothecary thought yet again what a fine looking woman she was.

  ‘What is it, Sir? How can I assist?’

  ‘Do you remember the last conversation we had? The one in which you asked me to open Cruttenden’s skeleton cupboard?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That deed will be done tonight. But in order to achieve this end, Mr Fielding of Bow Street needs your co-operation.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘He would like you to draw him a diagram.’ And in a voice that would not carry beyond the room in which they stood, the Apothecary explained the Blind Beak’s plan. Harriet gazed at him in astonishment. ‘Cruttenden is to be arrested tonight? But what can he have done that is so bad?’

  ‘That, I am not allowed to tell you.’

  She had already guessed, however. ‘He’s a killer, isn’t he? He was responsible for the poisoning at Apothecaries’ Hall and the death of Master Alleyn? To say nothing of Tobias Gill. Did he murder him as well?’

  ‘Don’t ask what I must not say.’

  ‘Very well, I won’t, but I’ll draw your plan and gladly. How long have I waited for this moment? Years and years. The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small.’

  ‘You must tell no one what is planned, Harriet. The entire evening depends on the element of surprise.’

  ‘On my word, my lips are sealed.’

  An hour later the Apothecary had what he had come for, and two plans of Pye House, one of the exterior, the other showing inside the building, had been tucked into a secure pocket in John’s cloak.

  He bowed to Harriet. ‘Thank you for these. They will be of enormous help.’

  ‘I am only glad I was able to assist in bringing that creature down.’ She looked fierce. ‘At what time tonight will all this happen? I want to be able to think about it.’

  ‘I believe that everything will begin about eight. But not a word, mind.’

  ‘There will be no word from me,’ Harriet answered solemnly.

  They met in The Spaniards in Southwark. Joe Jago and four tough-looking Runners, dressed in nondescript clothes, were already there when John walked into the taproom. A moment or two later, Nicholas came in, smiling hopefully. Last of all, as was her right, Coralie made her entrance.

  She was particularly beautiful this night, dressed in emerald green, the colour of her eyes, which glinted behind a jewelled mask she had adopted.

  ‘You have your story ready, Miss Clive?’ asked Joe, straight to the point.

  ‘Yes. I gave some consideration to asking Cruttenden to kill my sister, Kitty. But then I decided against that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Kitty is somewhat older than I am and the story makes no sense. When she retires from the stage, I will reign unchallenged. No, I have decided upon Miss Sheringham, who is currently rivalling me for many leading roles. She is the one I would be glad to see out of the way.’

  Joe chuckled. ‘You sound as if you mean it.’

  ‘I do,’ said Coralie.

  John asked a question. ‘My apprentice Nick is most anxious to join the party. What role might he play – if any?’

  ‘I would suggest that he accompanies Miss Clive to the front door, posing as her man servant. Then he can wait in the kitchen. If Miss Clive should so much as cry out, he is to come out and protect her.’

  ‘I don’t have a weapon,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘Do you know how to fire a pistol?’

  ‘I was once at sea, Sir,’ answered the Muscovite, with patience.

  ‘Very good.’

  ‘How do the rest of us get in?’ said John.

  ‘A kitchen lad has been bribed. There is a wooden spiral staircase leading from the kitchen area which is only used by the servants. It goes as high as the attic. At a certain signal we are to go in, climb the stairs, and take up our positions. I trust Mrs Clarke has given you a plan.’

  ‘She has indeed.’ The Apothecary laid the drawings flat on the table.

  ‘These are excellent.’ Joe turned to the Runners. ‘Greenwood, Hart, you are to remain outside, there and there.’ He pointed to the plan of the exterior. ‘Marriott and Burrows, you are to come inside with Mr Rawlings and myself You will be stationed here and here.’

  ‘Where am I to go?’

  ‘I have a nice store cupboard in mind for you, Mr Rawlings. From there you should be able to see Miss Clive through the crack in the door.’

  Coralie smiled. ‘Then I shall feel really safe.’

  John shot her a glance but her expression was as pleasant as ever.

  ‘Have you any questions?’ asked Joe, leaning back in his chair.

  ‘If he makes trouble do we shoot to kill?’ said on
e of the Runners.

  ‘Why not?’ answered Joe urbanely. ‘Why not indeed?’

  By eight o’clock everyone was in place, despite the difficulties of four grown men creeping up a wooden staircase that creaked with every step. Not easy in view of the fact that none of the other servants was aware of what was going on and could have come along at any moment. However, all managed to scuttle into cupboards or recesses without being stopped, and John settled uneasily into a store cupboard leading off the salon, the place in which Cruttenden received visitors, so he was informed.

  Much to Joe’s relief both the Liveryman and his affianced bride were at home, ostensibly in deep mourning for her father, and so were within doors when the bell rang punctually at eight. A footman went to answer it and John from his vantage point heard the distant murmur of Coralie ‘s voice. After a long pause, Cruttenden’s silken tones were added to hers and finally, following what seemed an interminable wait, the door of the salon opened and the Liveryman ushered her in.

  ‘Pray take a seat, Madam,’ John heard him say. ‘May I get you some refreshment?’

  ‘A little wine perhaps.’

  ‘Of course.’ He pulled a bellrope.

  Coralie sat down, as did Cruttenden, and both of them disappeared from the Apothecary’s line of vision, although he could overhear them perfectly.

  ‘Sir, I was given your name by an old school friend of mine, the Honourable Sophie Ebury. As you know, she inherited a considerable fortune and eloped with Captain Robert. However, that association did not last and now she is quite the belle of society in Cheltenham, where I happened to run into her.’

  The wine arrived at this juncture and there was no further conversation until both had been served. When the footman had left the room, Cruttenden said, ‘Dear Miss Ebury, such an attractive young woman.’