The Apothecary's Daughter Part 30

"Lilly, we cannot afford to refuse patients. Nor to send them to our compet.i.tion."

So much for asking Mr. Shuttleworthaa Then you come down and do it yourself."

He huffed. "Very well." He used one elbow to push himself into a sitting position on the bed. His arm shook from the effort. He sat on the bed, catching his breath, steeling himself for the energy and pain required to stand.

Her heart ached to see it. "Never mind, Father. You lie down. I shall take care of it."

He fell back, panting. "You can do it, Lilly. Just remember-"

"I remember. Now you rest."

Retreating back down the stairs, she prayed with each step. Please help me, help me, help me a She started at the sight of a figure standing in the laboratorykitchen. "Francis! You startled me."

"Forgive me. I hope you don't mind, but I "

"No! I am so pleased to see you. Might you do me a favor?"

"Um a of course. Anything, if I am able." He grinned, eyes sparkling. "What do you need? Dragons slain, villains dueled? Alembics scoured?"

Grasping his wrist, she led the way to the surgery door. "Nothing so arduous, I a.s.sure you."

"What then?"

"Just one small hole."

"Who's this, then?" Mrs. Hagar asked when they entered.

"This is Francis Baylor. Our former apprentice. Now a journeyman at "

"At your service, madam." Francis bowed to Mrs. Hagar and gave her a charming smile.

"My, my." The woman placed a hand over her chest.

"That is, if you do not mind my stepping in? I can understand why you might prefer Miss Haswell-"

She waved this away. "Oh, that don't signify. You will suit just fine, young man."

"You are most obliging, Mrs. Hagar. Now. Are you comfortable?"

"I am."

"Very good. Let's just tie a ligament here. Miss Haswell?"

She sprang to hand him the tie.

"Thank you." He tied the linen tape around the woman's fleshy upper arm. "Firm, but not too tight. How does that feel?"

"Fine."

"Excellent. Now, let us have a look at your veins. My goodness! When have I ever seen such lovely veins? Really, Mrs. Hagar. What a light task this shall be!"

The woman looked down at her arm with sheepish pride. "Indeed?"

Isolating the vein between thumb and forefinger of one hand, Francis held out his free hand toward Lilly. "The thumb lancet, I think, Miss Haswell. Only the finest instrument for such a fine vein."

The woman fairly blushed.

Lilly quickly handed him the thumb lancet with the ornate tortoisesh.e.l.l case.

"Thank you. And the bowl is here at the ready. Well done, Miss Haswell. Now, Mrs. Hagar, do let me know the minute you feel lightheaded or a swoon coming on."

"I own I feel on the verge already, young man, with you holding my hand that a'way."

Lilly met his eye and bit back a grin.

He chuckled. "You flatter me, ma'am. Now, do tell me where you were born."

"Stanton St. Bernard, but I don't see how that signifies."

"Not in the least. I just wanted to distract you from the p.r.i.c.k."

"Ohh a I didn't even know you'd done it."

The blood ran in a thin, graceful stream into the waiting receptacle. Not a drop went astray nor soiled her frock. Lilly was impressed indeed. Not only at his skill, but at his warm and charming manner with the worn, plain Mrs. Hagar.

When the blood reached the first gradient line in the bleeding bowl, Francis asked. "And how are we feeling, Mrs. Hagar?"

"Floaty. Tingling. Dark."

"Excellent." With swift deft movements, he placed a lint pad on her wound, pressing it with his thumb and lifting her hand in the air. "There. You put pressure on that if you can."

"All right a" she said dreamily.

Lilly handed him the linen bandage and sling, and he skillfully wrapped the wound and secured the woman's arm in less than a minute's time. "Now you rest here, Mrs. Hagar. Until you are quite yourself again."

She nodded and asked, "Mr. Baylor, will you be here next I come? "

Francis again met Lilly's eyes. "Perhaps, Mrs. Hagar. But if I am not, either Miss Haswell or her father will be. And I have learned everything worth knowing from them."

Leaving the woman to rest, Lilly followed him from the surgery. "Francis," she called softly.

He turned.

"How can I thank you?"

His smile grew thoughtful. "Quite easily, Miss Haswell."

She tilted her head in question.

Looking at her, he slowly shook his head, lips quirked, brown eyes alight with equal parts humor and longing.

She stared back, eyes drawn to his full lower lip, and felt a shocking desire to touch it with her own. Where had that come from? Thank heaven he could not divine her thoughts!

I am merely grateful to him, she a.s.sured herself. If Aunt Elliott had disapproved of a physician, she would be scandalized to think her niece attracted to an apothecary's a.s.sistant!

The shop bell jingled, and she self-consciously took a step back, putting a proper distance between them.

The next morning, Lilly opened the door of the coffeehouse kitchen and stuck her head inside. "h.e.l.lo, Mary."

"Come in, Lill. You've caught me elbow deep in flour, I'm afraid."

Lilly stepped to the worktable. "I would offer to help, but I know how you feel about my abilities in the kitchen."

"Indeed. You with your odd apothecaries' weights and measures with our recipes a" She feigned a shudder.

Grinning, Lilly sat and surveyed the a.s.sembled mixing bowls and ingredients. "A cake?"

Mary nodded. "And not just any cake, mind. A Rich Bride Cake."

"And who is the rich bride? "

With a glance toward the scullery door, Mary leaned across the worktable and lowered her voice. "One Miss Ca.s.sandra Powell."

Lilly felt an unexpected stab of regret. She had enjoyed Roderick Marlow's brief attentions. She had known he would never ask for her hand, yet could not help being disappointed at the news, for she could not like Miss Powell. "Well, I should be not be surprised. Mr. Marlow intimated they would marry."

Mrs. Mimpurse burst into the kitchen from the dining room, her face flushed. "Girls, you will be most surprised to hear what I have just learned. That bonny Miss Powell is going to marry "

"Yes, Mamma. I was just telling Lill about the cake order."

"But we have had it wrong, Mary." Mrs. Mimpurse drew near and spoke in hushed tones. "Miss Powell is marrying one of the Marlows to be sure. But not Roderick, as we supposed. She is marrying Sir Henry himself."

"No! " Mary's small mouth fell open.

"How can that be?" Lilly asked, stunned. "I saw them together in London and at the house party at the manor. And when I spoke to Roderick Marlow, I had the distinct impression he was going to marry her." Lilly's mind whirled over their conversations. He had not actually said the words, but what he had said seemed clear enough.

"Maybe he planned to, but she threw him over," Mary suggested. "Why be Mrs. Marlow when you can be Lady Marlow?"

"But Sir Henry must be nearing sixty," Lilly said. "And not in the best of health."

"Still, a charming man," Maude offered. "Always so kind and attentive to the first Lady Marlow."

"Poor Roderick," Lilly breathed.

"Poor Roderick?" Mary repeated in wonder. "Now, there are two words I would never have imagined coming from your lips, Lilly Haswell."

Lilly ignored that. "I wonder if he is heartbroken."

"You allow he has a heart? "

"Of course he has, Mary," Mrs. Mimpurse said.

Lilly amended, "Though one capable of both extreme coldness as well as warmth."

"How warm? " Mary quirked a brow.

Lilly felt her cheeks heat and hurriedly asked, "When is the great day to be?"

"Thursday," Mary and her mother answered in unison.

Lilly shook her head. "Rich bride indeed. Or will be in two days' time."

Mrs. Mimpurse returned to the front room with a fresh pot of coffee, and Mary continued working, sprinkling liquid onto the mound of almonds she had pounded into a fine powder.

"What is that?" Lilly asked.

"Orange-flower water."

Mary left the almonds and began whisking a bowlful of egg yolks.

Lilly ran her gaze over the worktable. "Where is the recipe?"

Mary shrugged. "Around here somewhere. Slice those candied peels for me, would you?"

"How thin?" Lilly picked up a knife and made a trial cut.

"Like that, right. Mind you don't cut yourself."

"Yes, Mother."

Mary hesitated, looking cautiously at her. Lilly pulled a humorous face, surprised she could make such a joke without an answering sting of loss.

Clearly relieved, Mary said, "The Marlows will not want your blood in their cake."

"No indeed. What else does a rich bride get?"

"Five pounds of the finest flour; five pounds currants; three pounds fresh b.u.t.ter; two pounds loaf sugar; one pound sweet almonds; a half pound each of candied citron, orange, and lemon peel; sixteen eggs; one gill each of wine and brandy; two nutmegs; and a t.i.tch o' mace and cloves. And two layers of almond-and-sugar icing besides."