fronts of shops. John plunged on in the direction of The White Hart — or what he imagined the direction to be — and had just crossed the street when two women suddenly appeared out of the fog and walked quite close to him. Normally he wouldn’t have given them a second glance but there was something in the way that they carried themselves that attracted his attention. John sunk back into a shop doorway as a breath of their conversation reached his ears.
‘… glad to be out of it I can tell you.’
‘I’m sure you are, my dear. But don’t dwell. It’s all over now.’
‘Yes, thank God. Poor Charles. His guts saved him from a terrible ordeal.’
‘Yes, indeed.’
They were alongside the Apothecary, just passing him, and the light from a shoemaker’s shop shone directly on them. John gave an audible gasp. He was astonished to see the dark little milliner, Jemima Lovell, and walking beside her was none other than the woman who had travelled back from Devon with him, Lucinda Silverwood herself.
Thirteen
The hackney coach dropped him next afternoon at the corner of Gerrard Street, and the Apothecary practically ran the rest of the way to Nassau Street. Dashing up the few steps to the front door he inserted his key in the lock only to feel the door being pulled from the other side and to hear a little voice saying, ‘Papa, is that you?’
He practically flew into the reception hall. ‘Sweetheart, how did you know?’
‘She has been telling me for the last two days that you were coming,’ said Sir Gabriel Kent, making his way out of the library, walking slowly and leaning heavily on his cane. John turned to him and just for a minute saw his father quite clearly.
Sir Gabriel was now eighty-three years of age and as spare of frame as ever. But time was at last taking its toll on him and he no longer stood straight and tall but was starting to stoop, while lines of wisdom had cut deep into his countenance. His skin had become the colour of parchment, matching his amazing white wig, and his hands were covered with the brown marks that some people called death spots. But his eyes were still bright and golden and looked at John with the same clarity that they had always held.
‘My dearest boy,’ he said, and embraced his son warmly. ‘Rose has a gift indeed for she has been informing me all day yesterday and most of today that you were on your way to see us.’
John smiled a secret smile at his daughter, knowing full well that she had been born with ancient magic. However, the child’s next question disturbed him slightly.
‘How is Mrs Elizabeth?’ she asked.
‘Very well, thank you,’ answered her father, somewhat nonplussed.
‘Come, my son, let us repair to the library,’ said Sir Gabriel, then turning to Rose he added, ‘Dearest, I wish to speak to your father privately. You may join us in thirty minutes.’
The red hair flew as she tossed her head but she trotted away to her nursemaid obediently enough. John stared after her.
‘Does she miss her companion Octavia?’
Sir Gabriel straightened his shoulders. ‘Well, I think she does somewhat. But most of all, John, she misses you.’
He led the way into the library and the Apothecary sat down opposite him and allowed his adopted father to pour him a small sherry. He stared at the great old man as he passed him his glass.
‘Father, there is something I have to tell you.’
‘Oh yes?’ And Sir Gabriel gave him a glance which held a great deal of amusement in its depths.
John, for no reason, felt awkward. ‘It’s about Elizabeth di Lorenzi.’
The golden eyes gleamed. ‘Something to do with the reason she wanted to see you, no doubt.’
‘Yes. Sir, you are going to be a grandfather once more.’
Sir Gabriel’s face creased. ‘I see that you didn’t waste your time in Devon then.’
John felt himself blush. ‘Well, I…’
His father interrupted him. ‘There is no need to explain to me, my son. You have been a widower for some years and I know that at the time you were very much in love with the Marchesa di Lorenzi. Tell me, are you still?’
‘Yes, yes I am. But she will not marry me, Sir, despite the fact that she is carrying my child.’
‘So she intends to give birth to a bastard?’
‘Yes, I fear she does. But don’t worry about her position in society. She is rich and she is powerful. Only a few people will abandon her.’
‘But what of you, John?’
‘I am resigned to my fate. But even if I could marry her it would mean giving everything up and going to live in Devon, for she would never come to London.’
‘Why not?’
‘She loves the countryside and the whole way of life. She cannot bear the thought of being a mindless town belle of fashion with nothing to do all day but play cards and gossip.’
‘And could you not open a shop in Exeter?’
The Apothecary smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t know that I could manage it. Remember that I have been brought up in the city and am used to the noise and the stinks. Besides, even if I were to go to her cap in hand she still would not have me. She is fiercely independent.’
‘As are you, my boy. And therein lies the problem I believe.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Two proud people love each other but can never give up their way of life.’ Sir Gabriel steepled his long fingers. ‘But I have said enough. We will discuss the matter no further. Let us drink a toast to my forthcoming grandchild.’
He pulled a long bell cord and when a servant appeared ordered some champagne to be sent up from the cellar. They were in the middle of drinking it when Rose reappeared.
‘Can I speak to Papa now, Grandfather?’
‘Yes, my darling, you certainly can.’
With his daughter perched on his knee and drinking a toast to the child that was to come, John felt totally happy. But then he thought of the mystery of seeing Jemima and Lucinda walking along together and tried to find a logical explanation for it. What had Miss Lovell been doing in Lewes? Admittedly Mrs Silverwood had said she lived in that area but the dark young lady had given no such reason. It was a great puzzle which was possibly connected with the murder of William Gorringe.
Rose said, ‘You’re very quiet, Papa. Are you thinking something?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘What about?’
‘About something that happened while I was away. I am sorry that I can’t discuss it with you but one day I will talk to you about everything.’
‘When will that be?’
‘When you are sixteen,’ John answered, plucking a figure out of the air.
She counted on her fingers. ‘Another eleven years to wait.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’
She turned an enquiring face to him. ‘Tell me about Mrs Elizabeth, Papa.’
He hesitated, wondering what to say, but it was Sir Gabriel who stated in a perfectly normal voice, ‘She is going to have a baby, Rose. A little brother or sister for you.’
The child looked surprised. ‘I don’t quite understand.’
John wished that his father had not started going down this particular path, determining not to tell Rose any more than she could comprehend.
