Death at the Beggar's Opera (16 page)

‘Oh yes, I saw her the other night. She, too, has suffered at his hands so don’t hate the poor woman too much.’

‘I pity her for sacrificing her life to that wastrel.’

‘Did you kill him?’ John asked quietly, gazing directly into her tear-filled blue eyes.

‘No, I swear it. Anyway, it would not have been easy for me in my state to have squeezed into the mobile and sawn the planking through.’

‘I admit that is certainly in your favour.’

‘And I didn’t, I didn’t,’ she added, her voice growing louder and a certain hysterical note becoming audible. ‘Much as I longed to do so, it wasn’t me.’

There was a noise in the passageway outside and Sarah gripped John’s arm in alarm. ‘It’s my husband. Oh, my God, how can I explain your presence?’

‘Lie down,’ he whispered urgently.

‘What?’ She stared at him in amazement.

‘I said lie down,’ and not waiting for her to comply, the Apothecary pushed Lady Delaney flat, simultaneously jumping to his feet and leaning over her. ‘Well,’ he continued in a loud professional voice, ‘the baby is certainly large for four months. It would not surprise me to see you give birth prematurely.’ He winked an eye at her, then proceeded to examine her rounding with an adept hand as the door flew open.

‘What’s all this?’ asked Lord Delaney, obviously shocked. John finished the examination and turned to bow. ‘Pray set your mind at rest, my Lord. I am John Rawlings, apothecary, of Shug Lane. Lady Delaney sent for me. She has been suffering from heartburn and wondered if my special compound might ease the pain.’

‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ his Lordship continued suspiciously.

Sarah Delaney sat upright. ‘I did not wish to alarm you, my dear. I asked the footman to show Mr Rawlings directly to me.’

‘Why so secret?’ Lord Delaney went on, running a narrowed eye over the Apothecary, and obviously not missing the fact that he was both young and attractive looking.

‘Because I did not wish you to think I was ill, my love,’ Sarah continued in the same patient voice.

‘Humph,’ said his Lordship.

‘My Lord,’ put in John, bowing again. ‘I see that my presence disturbs you and I will take my leave. However, I trust that you will allow me to prescribe for Lady Delaney. So large and well grown a baby with so delicate a mother will need all the help that my physick can give them.’

He had dragged the old fellow’s attention away from jealous thoughts at last. ‘What’s that you say?’

‘I said that your son – if son it be, for I have not yet made the test – is large, while your wife is small. Therefore it is my duty as an apothecary to ease her symptoms and to treat her as best I can.’

‘Test?’ said Lord Delaney, his mouth opening slightly. ‘Did you say test?’

John shrugged a careless shoulder. ‘There is an ancient belief that the swinging of a pendulum over the abdomen of a pregnant woman will reveal the sex of the unborn child. Of course, there is probably nothing to it. However, many parents enjoy this innocuous practice, more for a joke than anything else.’

At last Lord Delaney stepped into the room from his hovering position in the doorway, revealing himself as a handsome man, probably aged about seventy, very expensively dressed and wigged and keeping a good figure for his years. His vision, though, had obviously let him down and he wore a pair of magnifying glasses upon his nose, behind which his eyes appeared as big as decorative buttons and decidedly glassy. In a way, John thought, this gave Sarah’s husband a rather vulnerable look which she probably found endearing.

‘Well, my dear,’ he said now, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. ‘Should we indulge in this harmless foolery?’

‘Why not?’ she answered with relief, obviously aware that he had accepted the Apothecary’s presence as innocent. ‘Does it really work, Mr Rawlings?’

‘It is a method used in the country, I believe, to sex unborn calves and lambs.’

‘So what kind of pendulum do you require?’

‘Your wedding ring suspended on a piece of your hair would do well.’

Without further ado Lady Delaney pulled out a hair, grimacing as she got two rather than one, and threaded her wedding band on to it. ‘There!’

‘Now lie back on the sofa.’

She did so and John, leaning forward, hung the motionless ring over her rounding belly.

‘What is supposed to happen?’ asked Lord Delaney, whispering as if he were witnessing some magical art.

‘If the ring goes in a clockwise direction, the child is a boy. If it swings counterclockwise, Lady Delaney is carrying a girl.’

‘And how do I know that you will not swing it one way or t’other yourself?’

‘By conducting this experiment in person,’ John replied with an exasperated sigh, and handed the ring to the older man.

After a few moments of absolute stillness, the wedding band swung clockwise, quite definitely so. ‘A boy, Sir,’ said the Apothecary drily. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Oh Arthur!’ Sarah exclaimed, jumping up and putting her arms round her husband’s neck.

‘An heir!’ he cried in triumph, and burst into tears.

‘Would you like me to confirm that?’ asked John, who by now was in an evil mood, partly caused by intense fatigue and hunger, and partly by irritation with the world at large.

‘Oh yes, yes,’ yelled Lord Delaney ecstatically..

‘Very well,’ said John, and leaning forward dropped a coin between Sarah’s delectable breasts, of which he had a momentary enchanting glimpse. ‘And which side did it fall, Madam?’

‘Why, to the right.’

‘Then you are most definitely expecting a son.’

Lord Delaney wept afresh while Sarah crossed to the bell rope and tugged it. ‘This calls for merrymaking, I am sending for some champagne.’

‘But of course,’ said Arthur. He threw his arm round John’s shoulders. ‘My dear young friend, you have made me the happiest man in London.’

Actually, the Apothecary thought cynically, it was Jasper Harcross who did that. Aloud he said, ‘I am mightily pleased to hear it, Sir.’

‘I trust you will stay for supper?’

‘That would be very pleasant. I have been so busy today I haven’t had time to eat since breakfast.’

“Zounds, I did not know an apothecary led such a hectic life.’

‘I am very popular, Sir. I have quite a reputation for my strengthening potions. In fact older gentlemen come from far and wide.’

‘Really?’ said Lord Delaney, looking interested.

‘Really,’ answered John, and took a sip of the champagne which a discreet servant had poured for him.

Five minutes later he was asleep in the chair by the fire, the combination of wine and weariness having taken their inevitable course.

‘What a charming boy,’ said Lord Delaney, looking down at John’s slumbering form. ‘What was that he was saying about our son being large for his age?’

‘He thought the child may be born prematurely. I might have no more than a seven month pregnancy.’

‘Well, all the Delaneys are big men,’ his Lordship said proudly. ‘I am the exception to the rule, alas.’

‘You are the dearest husband in the world,’ answered Sarah, tweaking his nose and draining her glass simultaneously. She held it out for a refill and then raised it to make a toast. ‘To you, darling, and to our boy. And also to Mr Rawlings, such a very charming – and clever – young man!’

So delighted was Lord Delaney with the young apothecary whom he now considered not only to be a genius but also his protégé, that he sent him home in one of the Delaney coaches, especially brought round from nearby Bruton Mews. After this, having slept most of the way, John fell wearily into bed. But the next morning he made up for his day without food by consuming another heroic breakfast, at which Sir Gabriel raised thin eyebrows.

‘My dear child,’ he commented, ‘anyone would think you are starving near to death during your working hours.’

‘I am,’ John answered, his mouth full, and he regaled his father with a detailed description of the previous day’s exploits.

Sir Gabriel listened in silence, sipping coffee from a bone china cup. ‘So whose is the child?’ he said eventually. ‘Surely not James Martin’s?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because he would never have entrusted Jasper Harcross with the task of removing the boy from the Foundling Hospital. No, my wager would be on the victim himself as the father.’

‘Then why the handkerchief initialled J.M.? And the subsequent loving care and attention?’

‘Perhaps he just felt sorry for the child.’

‘But that doesn’t explain why it should have been Mr Martin who abandoned him at the gates.’

‘If he did. Perhaps the handkerchief was purely coincidental and was dropped by a passer-by.’

The Apothecary frowned. ‘There are too many coincidences for my liking. There has to be a thread in this somewhere.’

‘I’m sure there is,’ answered Sir Gabriel. ‘Perhaps a surprise visit to Mrs Martin might not come amiss.’

John groaned. ‘The very thought makes me shudder.’

His father clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Be of stout heart, my lad. She is obliged to answer your questions or face the Beak.’

‘I think even he, the great John Fielding, might quail in her presence.’

‘I doubt it,’ Sir Gabriel replied naughtily. ‘Remember, he has the advantage of not being able to see.’

‘You’re incorrigible,’ said John, and left the breakfast table with a smile on his face.

‘By the way,’ called his father, just as the Apothecary was about to leave the house. ‘There is a letter for you on the hall table. It is from Serafina. She is having a few friends for supper and cards tonight and wonders if you would care to join them. I know because I dined with her and Louis yesterday. We played dice.’

‘Did she win?’

‘Occasionally she was kind and allowed her husband and me some good fortune.’

John popped his head back in through the front door. ‘She is the finest gamester in England, isn’t she?’

‘I would say probably the entire known world.’

‘Oh dear!’ sighed the Apothecary, and went on his way.

The first hour in the shop produced little trade except for two beaux, their white make-up cracking and ghastly in the bright morning light, who came in for a reviver after a night out at some assembly or other. One of them was promptly sick immediately outside, and John had enormous pleasure in throwing a bucket of icy water over both the offender and the contents of his guts. For good measure he chucked a pitcher of brown disinfectant as well, managing to soil and spoil the beau’s pea green frock by careful aiming.

‘Mind what you’re doing,’ called the silly creature petulantly.

‘And so do you!’ John shouted back furiously. ‘Next time I’ll put some arsenic in it for good measure.’

They minced away angrily, stamping their high heels, while John, having checked that everything outside was fresh and clean, went within to prepare for proper custom. As he had half expected, at ten o’clock sharp Lord Delaney’s coach crunched through the narrow confines of the lane and disgorged its owner at the front door bearing a list in his hand. He smiled on seeing the Apothecary, wiped his spectacles, and made his way within, leaning hard upon his great stick.

‘My very dear young friend,’ he began, his smile growing by the second, ‘I have come on behalf of m’wife and m’self with an order as long as your arm. Everything is here from oil of Venus and eau-de-luce to potions for pregnancy and childbirth. I am, er, also interested in the strengthening compound you mentioned.’

The Apothecary looked at the list, his eyes widening.

“Zounds, my Lord, this is a purchase of considerable size. Would you prefer to go to the coffee house while I prepare it? Or would you like to step inside? I can offer you refreshment.’

‘I’ll stroll about a while for my health, then return and drink a cordial with you. I feel I have so much to say. With the news that Lady Delaney is to bear me a son my whole world has changed. All thanks to your good young self.’

Hoping to God that the pendulum prediction was going to prove correct, John attempted a humble expression which did not fit too well with his inner doubts.

‘It was nothing, Sir. I just followed a simple country method.’

His Lordship went white. ‘But it is accurate, isn’t it? The future of our line is pinned on the outcome.’

‘All I can say is that rural folk swear by it.’

Lord Delaney looked relieved. ‘They always know best. It’s the clean air they breathe. I feel much healthier on my estate in Suffolk, d’ye understand? Talking of that, is your physick truly efficacious? The one for mature gentlemen, I mean.’

‘They keep coming back for it, if that is any proof of its power.’

‘Ah,’ said his Lordship, obviously well pleased. ‘Well, I’ll saunter forth, my boy, and return in an hour or so. I’m very mindful of my well-being these days. We older fathers!’

He executed a small and nimble dance step, then strode away with a cheery whistle.

‘Jasper Harcross, you’ve done some good at last,’ murmured John, then set about his task of compounding those items on the list not already made up. But there he was to be thwarted, for the doorbell rang continuously, customers pouring in off the streets, partly to avoid a sudden squall. Yet everyone bought at least one item, attracted by the Apothecary’s display of exciting bottles, filled with strange blue liquid, together with his array of exotic perfumes.

‘I would like a large bottle of otto of roses, and some oil of cinnamon,’ said one young lady who had alighted from a sedan chair. ‘I’ve just met Lord Delaney and he recommended you, said you were quite
bon ton
in fact.’

‘D’you have some verdigris for my face paint?’ asked an emasculated nothing, waving a handkerchief stiff with powder.

‘I want a remedy for corpulence,’ said a stout lady, flopping into the only chair available.

‘Don’t eat,’ responded the pretty fellow instantly, and fell against the counter, laughing hysterically.

‘How dare you?’ demanded the big woman, heaving herself to her feet and looming over him in the most menacing manner.

‘Ha, ha, ha,’ the beau giggled, oblivious to her presence.

The smart young lady suddenly pealed with mirth. ‘Never eat again might perhaps be better.’ And collapsed in the direction of the beau, at which they jigged a strange sort of ritual cackling dance together. Fighting desperately to control himself, no mean feat, the Apothecary bowed low.