‘And I am needed in London as well. I just can’t leave Jacquetta Fortune alone to cope with an ever- increasing business. Besides, I need to check on Gideon that he has got the formula correctly. I can’t have second- rate water being sold under my name.’
‘But what about the babies?’
‘They will hardly miss me with all the care and attention they are getting. Anyway I shall only be away a fortnight or so. I have to come back here for various social events.’
‘I suppose there is no chance of the Lady Elizabeth…’
‘Marrying me? Not a hope in hell. That is the situation and I have long ago come to terms with it.’
‘Poor John.’
‘Poor me nothing, Father. The woman has borne my children, lets me use this grand house as if it were my own, lets me share her bed and her life. The one thing she does not want is to be tied down.’
‘I somehow thought that being tied would have happened following the birth of twins,’ Sir Gabriel answered drily.
‘I don’t think even that event could tame her spirit. She has already resumed riding and is becoming as beautiful as she was before. Or hadn’t you noticed?’
‘My dear boy, a woman is as old as she looks, a man is old when he doesn’t look any more.’
John chuckled and accepted the mild rebuke with good grace.
The problem was what to do with Rose. John was all for leaving her behind in Devon, where she was always happy to be with Mrs Elizabeth — as she insisted on calling the Marchesa — and now she had the added excitement of twin brothers into the bargain. But when he questioned her, Rose had a strange answer for him.
‘Father, I don’t want you in any danger by yourself in London.’
‘Rose, what possible danger could I get into?’
‘Remember what I told you. There’s a horrible old woman in a brown bonnet and you must lie flat when you see her. She is coming for you. I swear it.’
And one look at the child’s eyes, distressed and wide with fear, told the Apothecary that she was having one of her strange moments of second sight. He took her in his arms to comfort her.
‘Sweetheart, I promise you that I will lie flat, even if I have to prostrate myself in the street at the old woman’s feet.’
The child giggled, unable to control herself because her father was pulling such terrible faces at her, contorting his features and making monkey grimaces. ‘Oh stop it,’ she said, pushing him away. ‘I am serious. You will see.’
Rose was in that terrible state between laughter and tears, and eventually she wept as the only way of proving she was in earnest. John immediately stopped pulling faces and held her close, reassuring her that whatever evil was after him he would take adequate precautions to keep it at bay. Eventually she quietened down and asked how long he would be away.
‘Two weeks at the most, darling. But I really rather need you to look after the boys for me.’
She nodded very seriously. ‘They talk to me, you know.’
‘How do they do that?’
‘We have our own language. And we sing together too.’
The Apothecary asked no more, but within his heart he felt a warm glow at the thought of his twin boys in chorus with his strange, witchy little girl.
Going at a leisurely pace that he found rather irksome, John arrived in London three days later. First he took Sir Gabriel to Kensington, only to be met on the doorstep by a large woman, made larger by the huge hoops of her costume which flared out at least three feet on either side of her skirt. These were worn far less by the younger fashionable set, who regarded them as ‘full dress’, and had cast them aside in favour of side hoops. But this formidable dame clung to the fashions of yesteryear, and she also clung to Sir Gabriel’s arm.
‘Oh my dear, you are returned,’ she gasped. ‘Now at last we can have a decent card school.’
John’s father was at his most elegant. He bowed low then kissed the lady’s hand. ‘My dear Lady Bournemouth,’ he answered. ‘How very nice to see you again. Did you not get my letter telling you I was returning?’
Her heavily rouged cheeks turned even pinker as she said, ‘No, Sir Gabriel, I received none such.’
John shuffled his feet slightly and his father said, ‘Madam, may I present my son to you?’
She fluttered, ‘Oh certainly, Sir Gabriel. Please do.’
‘Lady Bournemouth, it gives me extreme pleasure to introduce my heir, John Rawlings.’
The Apothecary bowed low, the epitome of politeness. ‘Madam, I am most honoured to make your acquaintance.’
‘The pleasure is entirely mine. Tell me, young Sir, do you play a fair hand at cards?’
‘Reasonable, I suppose. Though nothing like as well as my father.’
‘Well, I invite you round to my house this evening. It is one of my little soirees. I had posted an invitation to Sir Gabriel but, of course, he won’t have seen that. But now I am here in person to ask you both to attend. Oh do say you’ll come.’
As ever John felt a certain sympathy in the presence of the elderly, though he was sure that Lady Bournemouth would have been mortally wounded if she knew John thought of her as such.
‘I really ought to get back to my house in London,’ he answered somewhat lamely.
Her lower lip trembled. ‘Oh what a shame! I had so hoped…’ Her voice trailed away.
‘Oh come along, John.’ This from Sir Gabriel. ‘What difference can one more evening make?’
And what indeed? So John made another elegant bow to Lady Bournemouth and said, ‘Madam, my father has persuaded me. I shall be delighted to accept your invitation.’
Irish Tom, somewhat relieved to pass a night under Sir Gabriel’s roof where he was very popular with the serving staff, got down John’s trunk so that he could find a decent suit of night clothes, while Sir Gabriel went off to find himself something ravishing in black and silver.
Two hours later, dressed to the inch, the pair departed for Kensington Gore, to a house not far from the country seat of Sir John Fielding. Within, John found the decor rather ornate but was pleased that the company had an equal share of younger people to older. In fact he was glad now that he had let his better nature win and had accepted the invitation. The plan of the evening was to play cards, this to be followed by a cold supper and music. It was a delightful change, made all the more so by the fact that John was asked to partner Miss Cordelia Clarke, a great-niece of Lady Bournemouth’s, visiting London from Exeter, by all the strange coincidences. The fact that she was very lovely to look at, with a great mass of red hair — very similar to that of Rose — and a delightful retrousse nose, made John’s task even more pleasant.
‘And tell me, Miss Clarke, where exactly do you live?’
She gave him a look from eyes the colour of purple pansies. ‘Why Sidmouth, Mr Rawlings. Where I vow and swear I have seen you out walking. Though of course I must be mistaken.’
‘Not at all,’ he answered. ‘I often visit Devon’
He should have added that he had a friend nearby — a very close friend — but some awful imp inside him made him cut the sentence short. But he needn’t have bothered.
‘Do you have friends down there?’ Cordelia asked.
‘Yes, several,’ John answered. ‘Lady Sidmouth is one of them.’
She clasped her hands together. ‘Why, she and my mother are old acquaintances. But I am far better friends with her daughter.’
‘Of course, Felicity. A charming girl. And do you know Miranda Tremayne?’ he asked.
Cordelia gave him a rather dark look. ‘Yes, indeed. Do you know her well?’
‘Only casually. I have met her once or twice. Why do you ask?’
‘Because I don’t really take to her. There is something of a shifter about the girl.’
‘Oh come now. I think she is merely jealous of other women and cannot resist a barbed remark if she can make one.’
Cordelia smiled. ‘Well whatever the case, she doesn’t like me.’
John should have been thoroughly ashamed of himself for playing the dandy, but he did so nonetheless. ‘With your beauty, Madam, I am not at all surprised.’
Miss Clarke went a gorgeous shade of pink. ‘Come now, Sir. I do declare you are flirting with me.’
