The Apothecary (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 3)
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THE APOTHECARY
Silver Linings Mysteries Book 3
A Regency Romance
by Mary Kingswood
Published by Sutors Publishing
Copyright © 2019 Mary Kingswood
Cover design by: Shayne Rutherford of Darkmoon Graphics
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction.
Author’s note:
this book is written using historic British terminology, so saloon instead of salon, chaperon instead of chaperone and so on. I follow Jane Austen’s example and refer to a group of sisters as the Miss Wintertons.
About this book: The sinking of the Brig Minerva results in many deaths, while for others, the future is suddenly brighter. But it’s not always easy to leave the past behind…
Annie Dresden is twenty-six years old, with no fortune, and nothing but a quick, practical mind to recommend her. Taken in by her apothecary uncle after her father’s death, she’s happy to be his assistant but there’s no future for her as an apothecary. The only proper career for a woman is as a wife and mother, but for Annie the possibility is dwindling.
When a long-forgotten suitor returns, it seems fate has given her another chance. A man turned away by her father years ago for lack of fortune is unexpectedly wealthy after his brother drowned aboard the Brig Minerva. For eight years he’s dreamed of marrying Annie, and she’s not about to throw away her last opportunity for a family of her own. He loves her, and he’s a respectable man - that’s a strong enough foundation for marriage, isn’t it?
But Annie soon finds that her husband has his own ideas about marriage, making her new life unexpectedly difficult. And when disaster strikes, all her hopes of a happy future are thrown into turmoil and she is left wondering whom she can trust.
This is a complete story with a HEA. Book 3 of a 6 book series. A traditional Regency romance, drawing room rather than bedroom.
Isn’t that what’s-his-name? Regular readers of my books will know that occasionally characters from previous books pop up again. There are a few in this book. Lady Charlotte Litherholm was at Valmont when Caroline Milburn visited in The Lacemaker. Mr and Mrs Elkington made a brief appearance at a dinner party in The Lacemaker. Lawyer Mr Willerton-Forbes and his flamboyant sidekick Captain Edgerton have been helping my characters solve murders and other puzzles ever since Lord Augustus. Long-standing characters the Marquess and Marchioness of Carrbridge and their home at Drummoor in Yorkshire get a passing mention.
About the Silver Linings Mysteries series: John Milton coined the phrase 'silver lining' in Comus: A Mask Presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634
Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
I did not err; there does a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.
Ever since then, the term ‘silver lining’ has become synonymous with the unexpected benefits arising from disaster. The sinking of the Brig Minerva results in many deaths, but for others, the future is suddenly brighter. But it’s not always easy to leave the past behind…
Book 0: The Clerk: the sinking of the Minerva offers a young man a new life (a novella, free to mailing list subscribers).
Book 1: The Widow: the wife of the Minerva’s captain is free from his cruelty, but can she learn to trust again?
Book 2: The Lacemaker: three sisters inherit a country cottage, but the locals are surprisingly interested in them.
Book 3: The Apothecary: a long-forgotten suitor returns, now a rich man, but is he all he seems?
Book 4: The Painter: two children are left to the care of a reclusive man.
Book 5: The Orphan: a wilful heiress is determined to choose a notorious rake as her guardian.
Book 6: The Duke: the heir to the dukedom is reluctant to step into his dead brother’s shoes and accept his arranged marriage.
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Table of Contents
The Huntly family
1: A Visitor (May)
2: An Offer Of Marriage
3: Willow Place (June)
4: Compliance
5: Adjustments
6: Gooseberries (July)
7: The Lady's Maid (August)
8: A Death In The Family
9: Questions
10: Suspicions
11: The Funeral
12: On Being Alone
13: A Matter Of Servants
14: A Proper Family Dinner
15: Of Love And Marriage
16: Outrage And Argument
17: A Letter From Dublin (September)
18: The Lawyer And The Captain
19: Reassurance And Guilt
20: Betrayal
21: An Afternoon Walk
22: A Seat Beside The River
23: A Crisis And A Hypothesis
24: The Path To Wickstead
25: Cutting Reeds
26: A Boat On The River
27: Saturday Night And Sunday Morning
28: Considering Pistols
29: Missing
30: Many Visitors
Epilogue
Thanks for reading!
About the author
Acknowledgements
Sneak preview of The Painter Prologue: Miss Latimer's Academy
The Huntly family
Hi-res version available here.
1: A Visitor (May)
Annie was on her hands and knees in the cellar, counting bottles, when her life changed. Such a mundane chore, to precede so momentous an event. How could she have guessed?
She loved the feel of the bottles in her hand, heavy and solid. So many bottles… green ones, brown ones, blue ones, clear ones. Tall and thin, or short and squat, or lozenge shaped. Each one would hold a different type of medicine — tonics and sleeping draughts and healing receipts of one sort or another. A thousand different ways to heal, and already she knew several hundreds of them. Her uncle never tired of explaining his methods to her, and she never tired of listening. Ever since she and her mother had come to live with him, she had been her uncle’s avid apprentice. His little apothecary, he liked to call her, in his jesting way.
Three boxes had already been counted, sorted and the bottles replaced, and she was just beginning on the fourth, when the door at the top of the cellar stairs creaked.
“Are you down there, miss?” came Betty’s voice. Annie smiled. Betty hated the cellar, and would never venture down into the darkness unless compelled.
She sat back on her heels. “I am here, Betty. Am I wanted in the kitchen?”
“Mistress said to tell you you’re to go upstairs and put on your blue muslin right away. Oh, and wash your hands and tidy your hair.”
“Oh. Visitors?”
“Don’t know, miss, but they’s all a-twitter, mistress and your ma.”
“Very well. Tell them I shall be there in a little while. I only have one more box to see to.”
“No, miss! Right away!”
“An important visitor, then.” That was interesting. The banker, perhaps? Or the landlord, although he usually only came at Lady Day.
Annie brushed herself down, raising a cloud of dust. No matter how often she swept out the cellar, there was always a great volume of dust. With a last, regretful look at the final box of bottles, she picked up her lantern and climbed the stairs to the kitchen passage.
Her aunt was waiting for her. “Well, now,” she said, pinching Annie’s cheek. “Yes, you need a little bit of colour. You’ve always been so pale. But never mi
nd that now! Hurry upstairs and change, my dear, as quick as you can. He’ll be back in an hour… less than an hour, now, and we must be ready. Gracious, I must send Wally round to Mrs Quaife for some cake or biscuits, for we have nothing… nothing suitable. What are you standing here for? Run, run!”
Annie flew up the stairs. The blue muslin was already laid out on the bed. Betty was rummaging in drawers, pulling out ribbons and gloves and handkerchiefs in a haberdashery whirlwind. Her mother had her jewellery box open, her thin fingers rifling through the contents, muttering, “No, no… not that, no… possible… no…”
“Whatever is going on?” Annie said, turning round to allow Betty to unfasten the back of her apron and gown. “Is it the landlord?”
Her mother looked up with amusement all over her face. “The landlord? Whatever gave you that idea? It is Mr Huntly.”
“Mr Huntly?” Annie said blankly.
“Oh, Annie! You must remember him. He was so sweet on you but not a penny piece to his name. He could not afford a wife, and so your papa told him. He went away after that, but he was so sad, poor fellow.”
“That was years ago! Seven… no, eight years ago, Mama. How should I remember him after all this time?”
But she did remember him. Not his face, perhaps, for his appearance was nondescript, but the way they had met. She had been walking up the High Street with Lavinia when he had emerged from the Angel, long legs striding, and almost bumped into them. He had stopped dead, gazing at her fixedly, then he had swept off his hat and bowed almost to the ground. It was so comical that she had wanted to laugh, and Lavinia had laughed. They had passed by without acknowledging him, naturally, but he had followed them all the way back to the vicarage. He had been in the congregation the next Sunday, but for several weeks he could do no more, for he had no acquaintance in common to introduce him to the society they moved in. When he had finally got his introduction, he had pursued her relentlessly for weeks… no, months, until he had plucked up the courage to speak to Papa. Poor man! He had gone away so dejected, Papa had said.
“But whatever does he want? Has he moved back to Guildford?”
“I think not,” he mother said, with an gleeful grin. “Look at his card.”
She pulled it from the pocket of her apron, and thrust it at Annie. ‘Rupert Huntly, Esq. Willow Place, nr Salisbury, Wilts.’ she read.
“Willow Place. His brother’s estate.”
“It is his home now, and he is an esquire, do you see? A gentleman. What a fine thing for you, Annie!”
“Oh, Heavens, Mama, may a man not call on old friends without exciting speculation? He may simply live with his brother. He may even be married. Ouch! Too tight, Betty.”
“We will find it all out soon enough, but he is not coming here to see me, you may be sure of that, even though he asked for Mrs Dresden and Miss Dresden. He has already found out that you are still unmarried, you see. I expect he made enquiries about you, and now that he knows you are single, he comes to call upon you. There now, that gown shows off your figure to full advantage. This necklace, I think, Annie, and the other fichu. Yes, the lace one, Betty, and then you must do what you can with her hair, while I go and change, too. Goodness, to be receiving morning callers again — why, it is just like the old days when your poor, dear papa was alive, Annie. I do so miss it.”
“I know, Mama, but there is nothing to be done about it, and Uncle Tom has been kindness itself to us.”
“Of course, of course, and I hope I am not ungrateful, dear one. Never that! But I may be grateful and yet still miss my old life, may I not?”
Uncle Tom had been called away to attend to a patient, so only the three ladies sat in the parlour to receive Mr Huntly. Aunt Hester was excited, her eyes bright with speculation. She had a fertile imagination, and so it needed only a male caller for her to be planning the wedding clothes. Annie’s mother was, as always, outwardly serene, yet there was a certain flush on her cheeks all the same.
Annie herself was not sure what she felt. Excitement? Perhaps. Hope, certainly. To be married, and have a home and a family of her own! It was of all things the most desirable to her, and yet here she was, at the advanced age of six and twenty, still a spinster. So if Mr Huntly had matrimony in mind and could afford a wife, she would not rebuff him. Yet she dared not allow herself to consider it possible. He was an old acquaintance who was paying a courtesy call while in the town. Yes, that was all it was.
Betty showed him in, her eyes wide. “Mr Huntly, madam.”
He was just as Annie recalled, although the skeletal frame of youth had filled out a little. He was still nondescript in appearance, but he was clothed rather better than she remembered, with well-fitted coat and breeches, polished top boots and a carefully arranged neckcloth. It would be too much to say that he was fashionable, but he certainly looked the gentleman.
They all rose, and Annie’s mother stepped forward to greet him. “Mr Huntly, how kind of you to call on us. It is always pleasant to meet again with old friends.”
“Mrs Dresden,” he murmured, bowing, but even as he rose, his eyes strayed towards Annie.
“We have so much to talk about, but before you tell us all that you have been doing, my sister-in-law would be gratified to make your acquaintance. Hester, Mr Huntly visited us many times when my poor husband was still with us. Mr Huntly, my sister-in-law, Mrs Perkins. And… you will remember my daughter, Annie.”
“Mrs Perkins.” He bowed to her, then his eyes turned again to Annie. “I remember Miss Dresden perfectly.” Another bow.
Annie curtsied composedly, but her heart was racing. His eyes! There was an intensity in them that could not be mistaken. This was not the courteous call of an old acquaintance passing through the town. He was here for her!
Her mother waved Mr Huntly to a chair and they all sat.
“Are you in Guildford for long, Mr Huntly?” was her mother’s first question.
“I cannot say,” he said. “That will depend on how long it takes for my business to be concluded.”
“You are here on business, then?”
“Personal business, Mrs Dresden. Personal business.” His eyes were on Annie as he spoke, so that she almost blushed. He was so direct! Impossible to misunderstand him. Before anyone could enquire further, he said quickly, “I was so very sorry to hear of the death of Mr Dresden, and the event was most unexpected, as I understand. Such a fine preacher. I always enjoyed his sermons enormously.” He shifted on his chair a little, so that he was facing more towards Annie. “Miss Dresden, do you still attend your father’s former church?”
“Occasionally, sir, but we are closer to St Mary’s, and… it is distressing to Mama to—”
“Of course,” he said quickly. “Naturally it must evoke memories of happier times.”
Annie could see her mother drooping at this turn in the conversation, so she made a rapid change of subject. “You are not any longer living at Grantham, I understand, sir?”
“I am not. I have had… a change of circumstance. You will remember me speaking of my older brother, perhaps, Miss Dresden? The one who inherited my father’s estate in Wiltshire?”
“I remember.”
“He met a tragic demise earlier this year, and therefore I have assumed the responsibility for the management of the estate.”
“That is sad news indeed,” Annie said. “You have my condolences, sir. Was his illness of long duration?”
His lips quirked in a wry half-smile. “He was not ill. Herbert was aboard a ship from Ireland when it foundered off the coast of Cornwall. He was drowned.”
“Not the Minerva?” Annie said, sitting a little more upright. “The same on which the poor Duke of Falconbury lost his life?”
He shook his head a little, albeit with a rueful smile. “I should have realised you would have heard of it. Everyone has heard of the drowning of the poor Duke of Falconbury. Well, Miss Dresden, my poor brother was also on board and also lost his life, which was just as precious to hi
m as the young duke’s was to him, but naturally no newspaper filled its pages with the death of Mr Herbert Huntly. That is the way of the world, that a duke is of more interest than a mere gentleman, and a great deal more than an able seaman. We all have our place in the world, do we not?”
His words were commonplace, but the look in his eyes told a different story.
Her mother said calmly, “The loss of your brother is a great tragedy, Mr Huntly, and the management of his estates must be irksome for you. Are you now settled permanently in Wiltshire, or shall you hope to return to Grantham one day?”
“My home is now at Willow Place,” he said. “My brother had no son and so the estate fell to me. I had no wish for it and it was a wrench to leave my work, for I flatter myself I was beginning to make a name for myself as an attorney, but I daresay I shall grow accustomed, in time, to living as a gentleman. I have a few adjustments still to make to my style of living, but once that is accomplished, I daresay I shall be as contented as any man can be.”
Once more his eyes fell on Annie, and he smiled at her with a warmth that made her blush and drop her eyes. Well! He could not have spoken plainer if he had dropped on one knee and offered for her on the spot.
Aunt Hester was naturally agog to know of his intention in calling, so she tiptoed around the subject by asking courteously if Mr Huntly had any other brothers, or any sisters.
“None now living, to my sorrow. I am the last of my father’s children.”
“And are you married, Mr Huntly?” Aunt Hester said.
His voice was heavy with meaning as he replied. “Not yet, Mrs Perkins. Not yet.”
Annie’s eyes were lowered, so she could not see whether he looked in her direction, but it scarcely mattered. She understood him perfectly.
The tea and some hastily procured cakes were set out, everyone ate and drank, the conversation reverted to indifferent topics and after precisely half an hour, Mr Huntly rose, asked if he might call again the next day and went away.