The Apothecary's Daughter Part 19

"But how are you acquainted?" Will asked him. "You are not a London man, I understand?"

"Indeed no. I make it to town but rarely. Miss Haswell and I grew up together in the same village."

Together? Lilly thought incredulously. Hardly that.

"We be Wiltshire born and bred, ey?" Roderick Marlow's exaggerated accent surprised her, yet was music to her ears. " *Ow bis en', my lovely? "

She laughed appreciatively.

"Miss Haswell and her father have often been guests at Marlow House," Roderick Marlow explained to Will, with a pointed look at Dr. Graves.

Not unless one counted house calls, Lilly thought, but forbore to comment.

Will shook his head. "She and my sister have been friends for, what, well over a year now, and I had no idea."

"Well, Miss Haswell is known for her secrets," Marlow said, grinning wickedly. "And other crimes."

"Mr. Marlow," Lilly exclaimed. "I must protest."

"Very well, Miss Haswell, I shall keep your secrets for you. Though I suppose your Dr. Graves is already privy to all?"

She felt her lips part, but couldn't form an answer.

"No?" Marlow leaned closer but made no attempt to whisper. "P-W here hinted there might be something between the two of you. I am glad to hear that is not the case after all."

"I never said-"

In full view of the other men, Marlow tapped his forefinger against her lower lip. "Shh a Your secrets are safe with me, Lilly."

He turned and sauntered from the conservatory, Will PriceWinters at his heels.

She and Dr. Graves stared after them, both bewildered.

"Lilly? " Graves repeated the name with equal parts distaste and question.

"Yes," she said resignedly. "Lilly."

"A childhood pet name?"

She sighed, suddenly very weary. "My name, period. Until my aunt changed it."

"You have given that man leave to use your Christian name? Even I "

"No one gives that man leave to do anything. He does as he pleases and always has. You need not mind anything he says."

He studied her face. "Indeed?"

WIDOW WELCH'S PILLS The particular nature and symptoms of female complaints are given with every box of pills, and worthy the perusal of every person who has the care of young womena.

THE EDINBURGH EVENING COURANT, 1815.

CHAPTER 16.

hen next Dr. Graves called, Lilly decided it was time to tell him all, though she feared the consequences. They were again alone in the sitting room, for Aunt Elliott was sleeping in after a late night at the theatre. Once he was seated, she began in low tones, "At the Bromleys' rout the other night, Mr. Marlow accused me of keeping secrets."

His raised his brows in expectation.

"There is another secret I should tell you." She pressed damp palms to her knees to still their trembling.

He nodded slowly, warily. "Something to do with that man?"

"No. Only that he knows of it." She took a deep breath. "It is about my mother."

His brow wrinkled. "Your mother is gone, I understand."

"Gone. But not dead. At least not as far as we know."

He stared at her, clearly stunned.

"She left us nearly five years ago now. Disappeared without word or letter. We don't know where she went or where she is." She glanced toward the door to make sure no one was listening, then said quietly, "My aunt and uncle prefer not to speak of her. They allow those of their acquaintance to believe she is still living in obscurity in Wiltshire or dead. I cannot blame them. If it were generally known, their name and mine would be besmirched."

His expression was incredulous. "Simply because your mother disappeared? She might have been abducted merely gone on some errand when unspeakable mishap befell her."

She raised one brow high. "Are you trying to make me feel better? "

His mouth drooped. "Forgive me."

"In any case, I doubt that." Swallowing a cinder of shame, Lilly whispered, "She was seen leaving Bedsley Priors with a uniformed man. It is only hearsay, and he may have simply been another pa.s.senger traveling on the same narrowboat, but as she was in love with a naval captain before she married my father, it seems too great a coincidence."

His expression grew serious, nearly alarmed, the lines deepening between his eyebrows. Still, she steeled herself and continued. "I have recently learned a few things about her. I know she came to London and saw my uncle. I know she lodged off Fleet Street for a time and took in pupils." A choked laugh escaped her. "I know which library she frequented, but I do not know" her voice cracked "why she left us, and if it was my fault, and why she never once wrote to tell us she was all righta."

Her throat too tight to continue, she bit her lip to ebb the flow of tears. Finally, she continued. "I lied to you when you asked why I was looking at the naval lists. We believe my mother may be living under another name as a Rosa Wells. It may simply be a false name, short for Haswell. But I wanted to see if a man by the name of Wells had served with the officer my mother once hoped to marry."

"And?" he asked, though a quick glance told her he dreaded the answer.

She exhaled deeply and nodded. "A James Wells did serve with him in at least one commission. I have no real proof he ever met my mother, but still it seems a strange coincidence."

"Will you contact this James Wells?"

She shifted, ill at ease. "I don't know. The connection seems so unlikely." She shrugged. "I don't even know how I would find him."

He nodded, and the two were shrouded in awkward silence for several moments.

"Well," Lilly said, squaring her shoulders. "I thought you had the right to know. Should my mother's desertion or worse become known, I would be tainted by scandal, as would my aunt and uncle. As would you, should you a" She let the thought trail away unfinished.

"My father detests scandal," Graves said, as though to himself. "Always has." He ran agitated fingers through his pale-blond hair and cleared his throat. "Well, thank you for telling me, Miss Haswell." He rose and eyed the door with apparent longing, his words coming in clipped phrases. "I had better take my leave. Much to ponder. Be in touch soon."

No you shan't a Lilly thought sadly, fatalistically, as the handsome golden man turned on his heel and hurried away. Hadn't she always known it would end this way, with any gentleman of quality? I have finally succeeded in scaring off the last of my suitors, she thought, and the realization pained her more than she would have guessed.

Fletcher handed Lilly a letter as she pa.s.sed by him on her way upstairs. She needed to quickly finish dressing, for her aunt would soon be ready to begin paying calls.

But a quarter of an hour later, Lilly still sat on her bed, dressed only in her white muslin morning dress.

"Lillian?" her aunt called from the corridor. "Are you ready? I have the carriage waiting."

But Lilly remained where she was, the letter in her hands beginning to shake.

Her aunt let herself into the room, pulling on her gloves. She was fully dressed in striped carriage dress, vest, and cap. "Lillian? We are late, my dear. Lillian! What is the matter?"

She pushed the paper into her aunt's hand. Lilly already knew what it said, not because of her keen memory, but because of its cryptic brevity. Come home. Your father is not himself.

"But you do not know that anything dire has happened," Ruth Elliott insisted while Lilly paced the room. "Your father is 'not himself.' What does that mean?"

"I do not know."

"You do not even know who wrote the letter, if letter it can be called."

"I suppose it was Mrs. Mimpurse. Our neighbor."

"Then why did she not tell you what the matter is?"

"I don't know!" Lilly's voice rose, and her aunt winced at the unusual sharpness of her tone. "Forgive me, Aunt. I am only very worried. I have had no replies to my recent letters, and now this!"

Lilly bent and drew her valise from under the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Of course I must go."

"But a what about Mr. Bromley?"

Lilly exhaled sharply. "Mr. Bromley hopes to engage the affections of Susan Whittier."

"Are you certain?"

Lilly nodded and threw back the lid of the worn valise. It was the only item her aunt and uncle had not thought to replace with a new one, perhaps hoping there would be no need.

"Oh no." Panic swelled in Ruth Elliott's voice and eyes. "There are only six weeks left in the season. Very little time to start again, and by next year they will say you have been pa.s.sed over on the shelf."

Lilly hesitated. "Is that really the end of the world?"

"No, my dear. Merely the end of your best opportunity for securing an advantageous match."

"I cannot think about that now." Beneath the brave words, these were the very thoughts plaguing her as Aunt Elliott's worries fed her own. For in spite of Lilly's ideals of marrying for love, or of using her skills to aid her husband, the truth was a good marriage was imperative to any woman's happiness and comfort, not to mention social standing.

She began to fold and pack her clothing Dupree's job. Lilly knew how distressed her aunt was when she did not correct her.

But surely all was not lost. She would be back soon. She had not failed her aunt, nor her goal in coming to London. Not yet.

"Surely twenty or even one and twenty is not too old. Unless Forgive me. I should not presume you would wish to host me here for another season."

For once, her aunt's perfect posture melted into a dejected slump. "In all truth, I am weary. And to see my hopes fall apart all over again. All the work, the expense a"

Lilly felt chastened. She said quickly, "Please forgive me. I did not realize I had become a burden, but of course I must be. I have been very selfish, and I am sorry for it."

Her aunt sighed. "I do not mean to threaten or frighten you, my dear. But with all our failures this season the gossip, your father's trade becoming known, Susan Whittier diverting Mr. Bromley -I simply hold little hope for another season, when a whole new harvest of accomplished young ladies will come out to compete for the same string of gentlemen."

Lilly ceased her packing long enough to grasp her aunt's hand. "I am only going for a visit. A week, a fortnight at most. That will still give us the better part of a month when I return. Will it not? "

Her aunt looked into Lilly's eyes, her own br.i.m.m.i.n.g with unshed tears, as if she very much wanted to believe her, but could not quite succeed.

The human heart, at whatever age, opens only to the heart that opens in return.

MARIA EDGEWORTH, 19T" CENTURY NOVELIST

CHAPTER 17.