The Apothecary (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 3)

by Mary Kingswood

  Then Uncle Tom arrived in a post chaise, frantic with worry, followed within an hour by Lavinia and her long-suffering husband, and within another ten minutes by a complete stranger, who turned out to be Mr Willerton-Forbes’ father, the Earl of Morpeth. They were given the good news that Adam was free, and Uncle Tom reassured that Mrs Dresden was restored to her usual gently active, if lachrymose, self. He was fascinated by the case, and gathered up all Annie’s notes to study.

  Naturally, these visitors had to be accommodated, and even though Adam, his brothers and the Elkingtons had removed to the Manor, Mr Willerton-Forbes and Captain Edgerton were still in residence. Annie had expected them to depart once the matter of the murder had been settled, but Mr Willerton-Forbes had simply passed on all the details of Rupert’s mistress to Sir Leonard Fairbrother, and left it to him to see that she was arrested.

  Annie had no objection to their extended stay, for they had, after all, been an enormous help to her, but she rather wondered at it and supposed it must be related to their original task, of giving Judith a thousand pounds from the Benefactor.

  “Have you much more work to do to verify the status of Judith’s marriage?” Annie asked the lawyer one day.

  “None at all,” he said, smiling. “I am perfectly satisfied with the validity of Mrs Herbert Huntly’s claim. However, I am growing anxious to hear from my colleague, Mr Neate in Ireland. He was to discover for me why Mrs Connell failed to inform me of her son’s marriage, and also, I hope, find out the circumstances of Mr James Huntly’s death. However, I have had no word from him apart from a brief acknowledgement of my letter. If I do not hear something soon, I shall be obliged to send Captain Edgerton.”

  “Shall you be able to recover the thousand pounds given to Mrs Connell?” Annie said.

  “Oh, indeed,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “It will give me the greatest pleasure to do so.”

  “You will take legal steps? In Ireland?”

  “Oh no, that would be far too difficult. Fortunately, there are other ways.”

  Annie was about to ask what he meant by that when he placed one finger to his lips and winked, so she laughed and said no more.

  The next day, yet another post chaise arrived laden with luggage bearing two more complete strangers. Annie was getting used to such happenings now, so she greeted the two men politely. One was a small, nondescript man dressed in entirely in black, but the other could only be a Huntly. He had Rupert’s dark hair and gangly frame, but his features were akin to Benedict’s, with the same mischievous grin he shared with Adam. She stared at him, mesmerised.

  The man in black laughed. “Does he have the Huntly nose?”

  “Not the nose, especially, but the mouth and eyes,” she said.

  “This,” said the man in black proudly, “is your brother-in-law, James Huntly… or James Connell as he has been known.”

  “Then you are not dead!” Annie cried.

  James laughed delightedly. “I am feeling quite well on it, if so, madam.” He had rather a charming Irish lilt to his voice. “I had not the least idea of my heritage until Mr Neate here told me of it a few days ago, and it thrills me to discover so many kin after growing up as an only child.”

  Two more rooms were found for the new visitors, two more places set at the dining table, Adam and his family were summoned after dinner to meet the new member of the family, and as they lingered over the tea and cake board, James told his story.

  “I got it all out of my mother, you may be sure,” he said. “The problem is that she is a good Catholic, so she never regarded her marriage to Henry Huntly as valid. It was only ever celebrated in a Protestant church, you see. Eventually, she met my father — oh, but of course he was not my father.” He laughed good-naturedly at his own mistake. “She met James Connell and he convinced her that she could leave Huntly and marry him in a Catholic church in Ireland and that would be a properly sanctified marriage. I cannot believe that is true, myself, but she believed it.”

  “It is almost true,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “Her marriage to Henry Huntly was certainly valid under English law, but unless the marriage was also celebrated in a Catholic church afterwards, it would not be recognised as valid in Ireland. It is a very peculiar situation.”

  James’ eyebrows lifted, but then the mischievous grin reappeared and he looked so like Adam that Annie’s heart flip-flopped in response.

  “So… possibly married to one man according to the English church and married to another according to the Catholics. Trust my mother to have twice as many husbands as everyone else! But the second marriage was barren, and that was no good, because my father’s — I mean, James Connell’s scoundrelly younger brother would take everything. Ma had never had any trouble in that way with her first husband, so they devised a scheme — they would travel to England, she would pretend to reconcile with Huntly and leave again as soon as her object was achieved. And, as you can see, the scheme succeeded.” He made a small bow.

  “But Ma was very bad, for she told me nothing of all this. I grew up believing that James Connell was my true father, knowing little of my relations here, apart from Herbert — my half-brother, as I thought. And so, when Mr Neate told me of Henry Huntly I determined that I would come here to meet you all.”

  “And to see the house,” Annie said with a smile. “After all, if my child is a daughter, Willow Place will be yours.”

  James laughed. “No, that cannot be, for my birth is registered in Dublin, with James Connell shown as my father. He is my legal father.”

  “Once again, the situation is more peculiar than you might suppose,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “Your name and the date of your birth are recorded in the family Bible here. Your parents’ marriage was still valid in England at the time. That is enough to make you the legal son of Henry Huntly — under English law.”

  James’ jaw dropped. “Are you serious? I am truly part of the family here?”

  “Truly,” the lawyer said. “You may inherit, but even if you do not, you have the right to be accepted as the brother of Herbert and Rupert Huntly.”

  “There is a home for you here, if you wish to stay,” Annie said.

  “You are too good,” he said, his voice cracking. “This makes me even more happy to tell you our other news. Mr Neate has something for you, Mr Willerton-Forbes.”

  Mr Neate fished in a pocket and produced a roll of bank notes. “The thousand pounds erroneously given to Mrs Connell. Mr James Huntly was very helpful in the matter, knowing where his mother kept her money.”

  “But why did she lie to me?” Mr Willerton-Forbes said plaintively.

  “Herbert entered the Catholic faith some years ago,” James said. “Ma told me plainly that his marriage was not valid, and Herbert regarded his wife as no more than a mistress. I beg your pardon,” he said to Judith. “This must be distressing for you to hear.”

  “Not in the least,” she said. “I always wondered why Herbert married me, but this makes perfect sense, and I must thank you for bringing me the money to which I am entitled.”

  “Here it is,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said, rolling the notes in his fingers. “What do you wish me to do with it? Shall I put it in the bank for you?”

  “I shall take it. I have a plan for it,” she said, with a secretive smile. “May I write to the Benefactor, to thank him or her for my good fortune?”

  “You may, of course,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “I shall keep the letter safely with all the other letters of gratitude, you may be sure, and if ever I find out who the Benefactor is, I shall ensure that those letters are read.”

  “You do not know who it is?” Judith said, her eyes round with astonishment.

  “I do not, but I do not need to in order to do that task appointed to me.”

  “Are you not curious?”

  “Indeed I am,” he said. “Very curious indeed, for it is a strange and perplexing thing. One day I am determined that I shall solve that mystery.”

  Epilogue

/>   19th AUGUST, THE FOLLOWING YEAR

  Adam wore a new shirt, new breeches, new waistcoat and a new coat of superfine, the work of the famed Mr Weston. He toyed with the idea of adding a second fob to his waistcoat or a small diamond pin to his cravat, but eventually discarded the idea.

  “Is it too much, do you think, Turville?” he said, surveying himself in the long glass.

  “You look very well, sir,” his imperturbable manservant said, as he tidied away shaving brushes and discarded neckcloths.

  “The waistcoat is not too bright?”

  “It is perfect, sir.”

  Adam grunted. Now that the moment had come, he was a bag of nerves. What if it went wrong? What if he made a mull of it? What if — his blood ran cold at the thought — what if she said no? He closed his eyes, hands on hips, taking a moment to compose himself. Breath in… and out… in… and out.

  “Should you like your horse brought round directly, sir? Or after breakfast?”

  “Horse… breakfast…” He was too distracted to think straight. “I am not sure…” Could he wait for breakfast and calmly eat without knowing his fate? He could not. “I shall go now,” he said with decision. “On foot, I think. It is such a fine morning.” At least that would give him time to arrange his thoughts. It was odd, for he had had a whole year to prepare for this moment and yet he felt curiously unready.

  “Aye, it’s a grand morning for a walk,” Turville said. “Very auspicious.”

  Adam fervently hoped he was right. He let himself quietly out of the front door and down the steps, turning at the bottom to gaze up at his home. Wickstead Manor. An ancient name yet the house could not be more starkly modern, all Romanesque pillars and plaster and fashionable wallpaper. Somehow the polished wood and worn stone of Willow Place appealed more to him — honest and unpretentious, like its mistress. The thought made him smile. Determinedly, he turned his back to the house and began the walk that would settle his future.

  As he neared the southern lodge, John Ransome emerged to begin his day’s work. There was no longer a gate there, but the lodge was useful as worker accommodation, and now housed the newly married Mr and Mrs Ransome.

  “How is Judith today?” Adam said, as they walked towards the river together.

  Ransome pulled a face. “Not a good day, but she is cheerful, and very happy to be with child again. She is such a good mother.”

  “You will hope for a son, I daresay,” Adam said.

  “Son or daughter… either will be a welcome gift. Oh, I must tell you that we have got the range working at last. We dined on roast beef yesterday in celebration. I am heartily tired of stews, I can tell you. Your generosity is very much appreciated.”

  “Finally!” Adam said, with a laugh. “That must be the most belated wedding present ever seen. Six months for the thing to arrive, and another two to assemble it. But I am glad it is in use at last. I had begun to think your child would arrive first.”

  They had reached the river where their ways parted.

  “May I wish you joy?” Ransome said tentatively.

  “Not yet. I hardly like to presume, but you may wish me good fortune, if you will.”

  “Then so I do, with all my heart, for I, of all people, know what resolution is required to wait for so long. I was determined not to compromise Judith’s reputation by trespassing upon her year of mourning, and it was the most difficult year of my life.”

  “Yet you succeeded,” Adam said.

  “True, but our secrecy had ill consequences, too. All those times when I loitered in the grounds at night to catch a precious glimpse of Judith, or our clandestine meetings in the old boat house — all that achieved was to frighten Mrs Huntly and to distract those investigating the murder. We should have told the truth at once.”

  “In the end there was no harm done, and that evil woman was brought safe to the Assizes in the end.”

  “To be transported,” Ransome said in disgust. “Pah! Australia is too good for her. At least her children will have the chance to do better. There are not many men who would be so generous as you, to stand guardian for such brats.”

  “They are family,” Adam said with the hint of a shrug. “They would have been destined for the poor house otherwise, for their mother’s property was obtained illegally and is back in the hands of the previous owner’s family. Besides, Cecilia is very happy to have two more chicks under her wing. Never was a woman more endowed with maternal feelings.”

  “I believe Judith may yet rival her,” Ransome said smugly. “But I will not delay you any longer from your purpose, so long awaited. Remember, sir, that the best of life’s joys are worth the wait — wives as much as kitchen ranges. May God speed your endeavour this day.”

  They shook hands and parted, Ransome turning towards the village and Adam making thoughtfully for Willow Place. It was all very well for Ransome, for he had had an understanding with Judith… he had known the outcome as he waited patiently for her to be free to wed. Adam had no such certainty. For a full year, he had watched Annie carefully for signs of affection. That she liked him… that she was even fond of him, he could not doubt. But was there any stronger attachment? He had no idea. She treated him always with friendly composure, with no trace of consciousness, exactly as she treated everyone. It was not encouraging, and although she had told him clearly that she would want another husband to give her more children, could he bear it if she accepted him as she had Rupert — merely because he was a gentleman with his own house and a good income? Of course he could, but how much more glorious would it be if she loved him as passionately as he loved her!

  He soon passed the spot where Rupert had been cut down, looking exactly as it had done a year ago except for a simple stone with no markings. A small posy of faded flowers lay at the foot of it. Impulsively he moved them aside and gathered a fresh offering for his cousin. Then, because he knew Annie would like them, he gathered a larger bunch, twining grass stems around to make a pretty bouquet.

  He found the household at breakfast, Annie with the baby on her knee. Mrs Dresden jumped up and whisked the flowers from his hand.

  “I will just put these in water. Meadow flowers… so charming, but they wilt so quickly. Do take the seat next to Annie, Mr Huntly.”

  Annie’s visitors made the buttery look crowded. Lord and Lady Dillington ate decorously at one end of the table, but at the other end Mr and Mrs Perkins sat amid the detritus of their five riotous children.

  “Pray forgive the disorder,” Mrs Perkins said fretfully, gathering up handfuls of cake crumbs and dabbing ineffectually at the tablecloth. “Why is it always the strawberry jam which is spilt? So very staining.”

  “I believe there is some raspberry, as well,” her husband said genially. “The green must be gooseberry. Oh, and lemon curd over there.”

  Mrs Perkins clucked at him, but Annie laughed. “Children will be children, Aunt Hester. How very smart you are today, Adam. Is that coat from London? So that was what you went away for! Will you have something to eat? Some coffee? Or tea?”

  He agreed to a slice of plum cake and a cup of tea, but in truth he was too nervous to eat. He could not take his eyes off her. For a whole year she had worn black, or latterly grey or violet, and even before Rupert’s death she had always dressed in dark colours. Today she wore ice blue, so pale it was almost white, in a fine silk that draped around her in watery folds like the wind-blown ruffles on the river. She was so beautiful that he could barely speak for the lump in his throat. The conversation swirled around him unnoticed, for all he saw was Annie.

  When she poured herself another cup of tea, he lifted the baby onto his lap. It was easier to talk to a baby than the woman he loved, he discovered. “Come to Cousin Adam, Master Rupert. Goodness, you are getting heavy, young man. Well, what a grand smile. I believe he has another tooth, Annie.”

  “He has. Here, take the cloth. I should hate him to dribble on that splendid coat.”

  “Weston’s work, or I am a Chinaman,�
�� Lord Dillington said.

  “Correct,” Adam said with a laugh. “I cannot tell one tailor from another, myself, but it seems a good fit.” The viscount raised an amused eyebrow at this vast understatement.

  “Never mind Adam’s clothes,” Lady Dillington said to her husband, “for here is Annie out of black gloves at last. Does she not look well, Adam?”

  “Oh yes,” was all he could manage.

  Annie laughed. “Everyone is determined to celebrate the end of my mourning. Mrs Hewitt is preparing a goose for dinner, and some elaborate confection involving port wine, rose-water and vast quantities of nectarines. Anyone would imagine it is my birthday.”

  He said nothing, seized with a cold fear that such preparations would be for naught.

  The nursemaid came in soon after to take the baby away, and since Annie appeared to have finished her tea, Adam cleared his throat and said, “It is very fine out. Should you care to go for a walk by the river?”

  For an instant her lovely eyes blazed with pleasure, but then she lowered her gaze demurely and it was as if the sun had gone out. Was that a good sign? Or not? “I should like that very much. Let me fetch my bonnet.”

  She returned so quickly that he suspected that she had placed them nearby. No one else attempted to go with them, for they all understood. They smiled benignly as Annie returned to the room, and Adam rose to leave.

  “Enjoy your walk,” Lady Dillington said, eyes sparkling with amusement.

  Annie had brought a light shawl, but she hardly needed it, for there was already a warmth in the air. The last wisps of mist lingering along the river would soon burn off in the sunshine.

  At first they walked in amicable silence, or at least it seemed amicable to him. He felt he ought to talk, but he could barely think straight, let alone string together a coherent sentence. So they walked side by side through the pleasure grounds, where Davy jumped up from his weeding to bow deeply to them. He was very respectful towards them both, after Adam had spoken for him at his trial, and Annie had paid his fine and kept him on.