The Apothecary's Daughter

The Apothecary's Daughter by Charlotte Betts Page B

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Authors: Charlotte Betts
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Historical
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Henry. This man is my husband, she said
     to herself as a shower of rice landed at their feet. How curious!
My husband.
Until death us do part. And I shall do everything in my power to love Henry and to make him love me, too.
    Smiling widely, Henry held her arm and made a great play of introducing her to everyone as Mistress Savage. His dimpled smile
     endowed him with a great deal of charm, thought Susannah, having the effect of making him seem more handsome than he actually
     was.
    The wedding breakfast was a much quieter affair than at Arabella’s marriage to Cornelius. So many of the family friends and
     acquaintances had left town to avoid the plague but Susannah was pleased that Richard Berry had come with Bridie and that
     Martha had brought her husband. Henry’s cousin, Dr Ambrose, and their aunt, Agnes Fygge, were there too.
    Martha, baby James in her arms, warmly embraced her. ‘I’m truly happy for you, Susannah. Mr Savage has a most agreeable manner
     and he’s young. You should count yourself lucky.’
    ‘I do.’ It was true; she had a future to look forward to now, after the anxieties and unhappiness of the past months. Finally,
     the numbness of the past few hours began to release her from its grip.
    ‘And there is something I want to ask you. Will you be godmother to James? Since you were there at his birth it seems right
     that you should keep a special eye on him.’
    ‘I would be honoured!’ Susannah tickled little James under his chin and was rewarded with a gummy smile.
    Cornelius had spared no expense for his daughter and they dined on steamed bass, roasted quails, tarts of marrowbone and a
     fricassee of chicken, followed by apple and quince pie, comfits and marchpane sweets washed down with the best wine the Crown
     and Cushion had to offer. Arabella’s children were surprisingly well behaved except for Mathew, who had to be taken outside
     to be sick since he’d eaten more than his share of marchpane.
    Agnes Fygge, a bent and crippled old lady with sharp black eyes and cheeks unnaturally bright with rouge, sat opposite Susannah.
     ‘And how d’you think married life will suit you?’ she asked.
    ‘Very well, I’m sure,’ stammered Susannah, her gaze fixed upon the old woman’s elaborate walking stick with its silver handle
     in the shape of a monkey’s head. Beside her, Henry was deep in conversation with Dr Ambrose.
    ‘Hmm. Not sure I was suited to it myself. M’husband’s dead now though.’
    Susannah, unsure if this was a matter for congratulation or commiseration, kept silent. Next to her, Henry was speaking in
     hushed tones to his cousin and becoming increasingly agitated.
    ‘Been a widow for a long time now. Do what I please,’ said Mistress Fygge.
    Susannah nodded, pretending attention while she tried to listen to what Henry was saying.
    Dr Ambrose’s eyebrows were drawn together in fury as he answered Henry. ‘You must not bring them here!’
    ‘Henry tells me you like your new home?’ said Mistress Fygge, apparently deaf to her nephews’ quarrel.
    ‘Oh, yes! It’s much finer than I might have hoped for. Henry’s importing business is expanding fast, he tells me.’
    ‘Does he now?’ Agnes’s mouth twisted in an ironical smile. ‘Always had a persuasive tongue. Very like his grandfather in that
     way. Dead now, of course.’ She turned away to speak to Richard Berry on her left.
    Henry and Dr Ambrose had their heads close together by now, whispering. Then Henry poked his cousin in the chest to press
     home his point and Dr Ambrose scraped back his chair and reared up.
    ‘I promised!’
said Henry, striking the edge of the table. ‘And now I can fulfil that promise.’
    ‘I’ll have no part in it!’ Dr Ambrose flung down his napkin and stormed from the room.
    Susannah watched him go. ‘Henry, what has upset your cousin?
    Henry laughed but his face was strained. ‘Will always was dour and bad-tempered. Disappointed in love, I’m afraid and it’s
    

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