dear?’
‘In Greek Street, Ma’am. At Madame Sophie’s. She is French and came over with the Huguenots. Or at least her family did.’
Elizabeth gave a deep sigh. ‘I obviously miss much by keeping myself away from the capital.’
‘I can lend her to you,’ said Lady Sidmouth, somewhat patronizingly.
‘I don’t think that will be possible, Lady Sidmouth,’ Jemima answered, sweet but firm. ‘Madame Sophie is expecting me back in two weeks and I have a great deal of work to do here.’ She turned to John. ‘It was nice to see you again, Mr Rawlings.’
‘And you, Miss Lovell.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘May I have a word with you in private?’
‘Yes, by all means. When and where?’
But he never got the chance to answer her. Elizabeth was at his side, dark hair gleaming and eyes lit from within.
‘Come along, my dear,’ she said. ‘We really must be getting back.’
‘I’ve a question to put to Miss Lovell first. I was going to ask her in private but as we are so short of time I will have to forgo that.’
Jemima stood her ground. ‘Ask me then, Sir.’
‘It’s this: Had you met anyone on the coach before you started your journey?’
‘Yes,’ she answered, somewhat surprisingly. ‘I knew the actress, Paulina Gower. She buys hats from Madame Sophie. We had met before.’
‘And that was all?’
Jemima lowered her eyes. ‘Yes, that was all. The rest were complete strangers to me.’
Why did John get the strong impression that the girl was lying?
Going back in the carriage John knew a moment of intense happiness as he thought that just for once he had the better of Elizabeth. This was followed by instant shame that he should be so childish. Yet nothing could take away his delight that she had actually appeared jealous of Jemima Lovell, who admittedly was an attractive young creature. He glanced across at the Marchesa and impulsively took her hand. She turned to him and smiled and in that instant he suddenly feared for her. She looked tired and it occurred to John that this pregnancy, coming so late in her life, was going to be a great ordeal, culminating in a labour that surely would not be easy for her.
‘My darling,’ he said, ‘you must retire to bed as soon as we get back.’
‘Nonsense,’ Elizabeth answered roundly. ‘It is the height of the day. I shall dine as usual. Indeed I am quite hungry.’
‘Promise me that you will retire early then.’
‘My God, John. You are not going to turn into a grandmother are you? I really could not abide being nursemaided. I warn you that I shall continue to live my life as usual until the last possible moment.’
The Apothecary gave a rueful smile. ‘And when will that be? When you go into travail I suppose.’
She smiled and squeezed his fingers. ‘Maybe a week before,’ she answered. And John knew that even if he remained with her for the rest of his life she would eventually be capable of winning every point.
Six
John woke early the next morning. Beside him Elizabeth slept quietly, her dark hair spread over the pillow, one hand curling up delicately, like a water lily. She was turned away from him and did not stir as he rose and crossed to the window, drawing the curtains back slightly to look out over the early daylight vista. Below him the river Exe wound its serpentine way through the valley and looking to his right he could see the city of Exeter dominated by its great cathedral. Standing there silently John knew that he must go there today and seek out the Constable, that he could not let the matter of the murder of William Gorringe drop as any other citizen would. That all his years of working with Sir John Fielding and Joe Jago had altered his thinking indelibly. With a sigh at his own folly, John went into the dressing room and put on his clothes.
Having breakfasted alone he went back to the bedroom to find the Marchesa awake but looking slightly pale.
‘How are you today, Madam?’ he asked, and kissed her hand.
‘To be perfectly honest I feel a little unwell. I think I shall stay here awhile.’
‘I told you yesterday you looked tired.’
‘And I told you that I will not be nursemaided.’
John looked at Elizabeth very seriously. ‘You do want to carry this baby to term, don’t you?’
She gave him a beautiful smile and instantly seemed young and fresh again. ‘Of course I do. I longed for another child when my son died and now to have one by an attractive and clever man is more than I could have hoped for.’
‘Then take the pregnancy with care, sweetheart. Allow me to go to an apothecary in Exeter and get you some physic.’
She took his hand. ‘I am sorry if I sounded ungracious just now — and yesterday as well. It is just that I cannot bear fuss. But you are right. I am old indeed to be having a child and I must take that into consideration. I will do as you say, Apothecary, and rest.’
John thought that he had never known her so compliant and decided to utilize his advantage. Leaning over, he kissed her.
‘I will order the servants to bring you your breakfast in bed. And I shall go into Exeter if I may borrow one of your horses.’
She burst out laughing. ‘I knew there was method in your madness. Choose any beast you like. By the way your hired mount has been returned by one of my grooms.’
‘Thank you for that. I won’t be long,’ he said, heading for the door.
‘And you ought to pay your respects to Sir Clovelly Lovell while you are in town.’
‘I shall make a point of it.’
‘And you are to give him my kindest regards.’
‘Of course.’
A quarter of an hour later and he was in the saddle and heading for Exeter at a brisk trot, wondering just how best to organize what seemed like a very busy time ahead. He decided to leave his visit to Sir Clovelly till last and to make his pursuit of the Constable his first priority. But as fate would have it his entire plan had to be shelved because on entering Exeter one of the first things John saw was a hand bill advertising a prizefight between Gentleman Jack McAra and the Black Pyramid. Fascinated, he drew nearer and saw that the bout was to take place that very afternoon. Knowing instantly who would love to accompany him, John turned his horse in the direction of The Close and the home of that dear little fat man of whom the Apothecary had grown extremely fond over the years.
He found Sir Clovelly at home, sitting in his garden in the September sunshine and partaking of a little cordial and some sweetmeats. He looked up as John was shown in by a servant, his face registering anger at being disturbed, followed by a quick rush of recognition and joy.
‘My dear boy,’ he said, attempting to struggle to his feet, an attempt that John quickly stopped. ‘I cannot believe my eyes. What are you doing here? What an incredibly pleasant surprise.’
John bowed with deference. ‘As it is for me, Sir. And to answer your question, I am here visting the Marchesa but made it one of my first priorities to call on you.’
‘And how delighted I am that you did so. Sit down, John, and have a sherry, do. I do not receive company as often as I once used.’
The apothecary’s heart bled for him as he saw a lonely old man peering out of his fat, jolly face.
‘I was wondering if you would accompany me to a prizefight this afternoon, Sir,’ he said, making his voice sound excessively cheerful. ‘Truth to tell I am on my own and would be honoured if you would consider accompanying me.’
Sir Clovelly visibly perked up. ‘A fight, eh? I love a good mill. When is it to take place?’
‘At two o’clock.’
