The Apothecary's Daughter Part 3

Charlie stuck out his hand toward Aunt Elliott. She smiled, but eyed it skeptically, finally touching it with gloved fingers.

"Hallo," Charlie said. "I've never had an aunt and uncle before. Our friend Mary has two of each, if you can believe it."

The Elliotts smiled and exchanged pleased glances.

"So, young Charles," Mr. Elliott began, "your father has been telling us that you are fifteen years old."

"*At's right. But all the lads say I look younger act it too." Charlie laughed as though he'd made a fine joke.

"Well, you have a good many years ahead of you to grow up. Have you given any thought to what you will take up?"

Charlie tilted his head. "Take up?"

"Yes, for your profession. The law, for example, or the church?"

"Oh, no. I can barely fink what I am to do tomorrow, or remember what I did yesterday. But Lilly remembers everyfing." He turned to her. "Don't you, Lilly?"

She began to demur. "Wella"

"*Tis true," Charlie insisted. "Francis he's Father's apprentice tested her, like. Picked a number from one of Father's books and she remembered everyfing on the page!"

"Not everything, Charlie, I am sure," Lilly said, embarra.s.sed. "Aunt and Uncle Elliott have not come all this way to hear fibble-fable about me. Now, do tell them about your work in the physic garden."

He shrugged. "I just do what Father says I ought."

"But our garden has never looked as fine as it did this year." She looked at the Elliotts. "If it were not so late in the season, I would show you." She squeezed her brother's shoulder. "You have a way with plants, Charlie. Do not be modest."

Before he could respond, Mrs. Elliott asked, "Are you in school, Charles?"

"I was. But I guess I learnt all Mr. Marsh knows, for he said *ere was nofing more he could do wi' me."

"Yes, well, Charlie," Father said kindly, "some lads are gifted at book learning and others at working with their hands. That is where you excel, my boy. I show you how to do something in the garden or in the laboratory, and you work harder at it than any lad I know."

Charlie smiled at his father's praise, and Lilly felt tears p.r.i.c.k her eyes. Her father did not praise him often enough. Nor did she.

Aunt and Uncle Elliott did not smile, however. They looked at each other, then at her father with question and disappointment in their expressions.

Charles Haswell took a deep breath. "Charlie, why don't you run over and thank Mrs. Mimpurse for her delightful sweets?"

Charlie eagerly stood. "I had better eat one first if I am to tell her how good *em are! "

"Of course. Take the whole tray."

"Careful! " Lilly rose quickly and helped Charlie pick up one of the trays, then opened the door for him. When he was gone, she closed the door behind him, shutting in the awkward tension in the small room.

From the stairwell came the sound of a crash metal tray on plank floor. Followed by a m.u.f.fled call of, "I'm all right!"

When the din faded, Jonathan Elliott cleared his throat. "I am afraid we have been rather hasty. We did not realizea"

"Of course you did not," Father interrupted. "How could you?"

When both Elliotts sheepishly lowered their heads, Father hastened to add, "I meant only that, when I wrote, I simply mentioned that Rosamond had left me with a that is, left behind a" He sighed in frustration. "That she had two children -a daughter and a son. I never thought to mention Charlie's a limitations. Never dreamed you'd need know." He leaned his elbows on his knees. "You see, Rosamond suffered an extremely difficult lying-in with Charlie. He was far too long in reaching the air he desperately needed. I believe it was this, and no innate defect, that caused his delayed mental development."

"But he isn't, well, an imbecile or anything," Lilly hurried to explain. "Just a bit slow, I suppose you would say. In time, he might very well catch up."

"Lilly, we do not know that," Father admonished. "It would be unfair to offer that hope to others, however dearly we cling to it ourselves."

"But with education, and special tutoring a" Lilly looked imploringly at the Elliotts. "I am certain in London, there must be many opportunities for a boy like Charlie."

"I doubt that is the case," Uncle Elliott said, his expression sober. "And even if it were, I must be honest and tell you that I do not feel I can name your son as my heir. While he would no doubt reap some benefit, I have my own estate to think of. I must choose someone who can manage it well."

It was Lilly's turn to hang her head.

"My dear." Her aunt's voice was surprisingly warm. "May I say your concern for your brother is most admirable and touches me deeply. A lesser girl might have begrudged her sibling such an opportunity."

Looking up, Lilly slowly shook her head. "Never."

"I promise you this," Ruth Elliott said. "If we hear of any special school or teacher for boys of Charlie's, well, special qualities, I shall write you directly."

"Thank you."

Her aunt's gaze lingered. "Do not take offense, my dear, but I cannot help but wish that you were a boy."

They shared a rueful smile.

"Now, are you really as bright as your brother boasts?"

In Bartholomew Lane, the drink called coffee which closes the orifice of the stomach, fortifies the heat within, and maketh the heart lightsom a is to be sold both in the morning and at three in the afternoon.

LONDON PUBLIC ADVERTISER, 1657.

CHAPTER 3.

n the coffeehouse the next morning, Lilly sat on her usual stool in the kitchen. It had been her place for as long as she could remember, which was long indeed. From the adjacent scullery came the rhythmic rustle, rustle, rustle of scrubbing and an occasional tinny clang as the kitchen girl, Jane, went about her work. Over this mild clatter, Lilly recounted the Elliotts' visit to her friend Mary, who stood at the worktable, cutting ginger biscuits. Paying no heed, Charlie hunched at the little table in the corner, picking out the caraway seeds from a piece of seedcake. He counted each seed and laid it neatly on a plate beside the others.

"If you don't like it, Charlie, you needn't eat it," Mary said. Her voice and round, pale blue eyes emanated irritation and affection both.

"Ninety-seven seeds, Mary. *At's fine, fine."

With the back of her hand, Mary pushed a strand of dull strawberry hair from her milky round face. "You know I don't like to see my good baking wasted. At least feed it to the birds, all right?"

Charlie nodded. "Birds likes seeds." He put on his coat, then carried the plate out the door to the kitchen garden.

"Mind you bring back the plate," Mary called after him.

Though it was an autumn day, it was always warm in the kitchen, so the window stood ajar. Lilly realized her brother had settled himself on a bench beneath it, for through it, they heard him begin counting all over again. "One, two, tree a"

Lilly shook her head, chagrined.

Mary said quietly, "Don't fret about Charlie. Probably find a post in a counting house one day and end up richer than the Marlows."

From the open window, Lilly heard quick footsteps on the stone garden path. A female voice, in tense, pinched tones said, "Charlie Haswell, you are a sneak and a spy."

Lilly's mouth fell open and she turned toward the door. But Mary placed a staying hand on her shoulder and shook her head, finger to her lips.

"If you tell anybody what you saw-"

"I saw nofing," Charlie said. "I was behind a tree."

"Heard then. Or thought you heard." The girl attempted to whisper, but in her agitation her voice rose. Lilly recognized it as Dorothea Robbins's voice. "I will have you know I did not allow him to so much as kiss my glove. Do you understand?"

"Yes, miss."

"And you must promise that you won't say anything. That you will not even mention my name."

"All right, miss."

Frustration heightened her pitch. "What were you doing in the wood anyway? "

"Nofing. Just sittin' and countin'."

"Counting? Counting what?"

Lilly and Mary exchanged knowing looks.

"Red leaves on the trees."

"What on earth for?"

"Just like to is all."

Miss Robbins sounded incredulous. "But it's not natural."

"Oh yes, miss. Very natural, trees are. *Tis why I likes *em."

The footsteps marched away as they had come. When the sound faded, Mary stepped to the door and held it open.

"Everything all right, Charlie?"

Lilly could hear the hesitation in his voice. "Uh a yes, Mary."

"Did you get the birds fed? "

"Oh a yes."

Lilly rose and joined Mary at the door. She saw Charlie on his feet, dusting seedcake crumbs from his breeches.

"Well, good-bye," he said and lurched away in his awkward gait.

"Charlie?" Lilly called after him.

He turned and looked at her, clearly troubled.

Lilly bit her lip. "Nothing. I shall see you later."

The two young women returned to their places at the worktable.

Lilly began picking at her own piece of seedcake. "The man Miss Robbins was with in the wood. I suppose it was Francis."

Mary kept her eyes on the biscuits as she placed them on the pan. "Do you? I shouldn't think so."

"You would if you saw them flirting with one another in the shop."

Mary shrugged. "It is her nature to flirt, I think. Perhaps after this she'll be more circ.u.mspect."

"I doubt it," Lilly said, then recalled that Francis had taken ill the previous day. Miss Robbins had not mentioned when the tete-a-tete had occurred, but likely quite recently. So perhaps it had not been Francis after alla.

"You aren't going to ask Charlie about it, are you? " Mary asked.

Lilly hesitated.

"Lill, don't. You wouldn't want him to break a promise to a lady no matter if the lady is Dorothea Robbins."

"I suppose you are right. Must you always be right, Mary?"

Mary put a dough-crusted hand to her brow in mock melodrama. "It is a curse I must bear up under somehow." She eyed Lilly's plate. "Now, are you going to eat my cake or not? "

That afternoon, diminutive Jack Dubin stepped into the shop, a wax-sealed missive in his hand.