The Apothecary's Daughter Part 36

"Lilly remembers everything, Mr. Shuttleworth," Mary said. "Had you not heard? "

"Dear me. I am obliged to you for the warning."

He grinned, and Mary lifted her eyes from her work long enough to return the gesture.

Lilly smiled as well, though did wonder that Mary should raise the subject of her memory. Knowing how self-conscious Lilly felt about it, her friend usually avoided mentioning it to strangers. Of course, by all appearances, Mr. Shuttleworth was stranger no longer.

Suddenly a pained look pinched Mary's usually docile features, and she grasped her left hand with her right.

"Please excuse me," she said, and Lilly doubted anyone who did not know Mary so well would even notice the tension in her face. "I've just been reminded of something I must attend to."

Mr. Shuttleworth rose, mouth ajar. But Mary had already turned and fled the room before he could say anything.

Lilly rose beside him, concerned.

"I have clearly overstayed my welcome," he said sheepishly. "Do offer your friend a thousand apologies on my behalf."

"Not at all, sir. I am certain it is nothing you did."

"I shall see myself out." He opened the back door and bid her farewell.

As soon as he had gone, Lilly hurried toward the dining room, thinking Mary must have gone upstairs, but a flash of green caught her eye as she pa.s.sed the pantry. There Mary half sat, half reclined on a ten-stone sack of flour.

"Mary, is a fit coming on? "

Jerking a nod, Mary held her arms tightly, clutching her abdomen as a wounded soldier might hold his innards. Her arms shook and the movement expanded, overtaking her until even her head began to wobble on her neck, tendons corded like angry claws lashing into her shoulders.

Lilly reached for Mary's ap.r.o.n pocket, for the leather sc.r.a.p she kept there. Empty. "Hold on. I'll try and catch Mr. Shuttleworth."

"No!" Mary cried, voice trembling. "No a father."

"But my father is too ill. He has returned to his bed."

"Mya" Mary began, then her body convulsed, rendering her unable to speak.

Lilly hesitated only a second, then dashed into the kitchen, grabbed the first wooden spoon she saw, and ran back with it. Mary winced but opened her mouth and Lilly slid the spoon between her teeth. Stepping to the door, she glanced into the dining room, where Mrs. Mimpurse was greeting a group of timber men and barge builders, Mr. Robbins among them.

Catching her eye, Lilly jerked her head toward the pantry, mouthing, "Mary." Her pained look must have communicated the rest, for Mrs. Mimpurse quickly but tactfully took her leave of the men and strode toward the kitchen.

Lilly did not wait. With her father ill, and Mary's clear command not to involve Mr. Shuttleworth, she could think of only one place to go for help.

She would even have asked Dr. Foster if need be, but when she pounded on the office door, she was relieved when Dr. Graves answered.

"Please come quickly. It's Mary Mimpurse. She's having a fit."

She half expected him to freeze in the face of an emergency as he had in London, but she silently thanked G.o.d when he bent immediately and picked up his case.

Adam Graves's heart pounded, but he did not hesitate. Miss Haswell's practical, no-nonsense commands pushed him into action, and his limbs obeyed her even while his mind struggled to catch up.

She asked, "Have you valerian, or should I run home for some? "

He opened his case and checked its contents. "I have all I need."

"Good. Hurry." She turned on her heel, giving him little choice but to follow.

He had to jog to keep up with her along Milk Lane and then down the High Street. She had somehow learned to run at an impressive pace while appearing merely to glide.

Rounding the coffeehouse, she opened the back door and gestured him inside ahead of her. Mrs. Mimpurse had swept the utensils from the worktable and managed to lay her daughter upon it. The poor girl convulsed, eyes rolled back, wooden spoon protruding from her mouth. Her mother did her best to hold her in place, with the help of a young maid. He surprised himself by immediately rushing forward to aid them.

"Father believes valerian to be the best remedy," Miss Haswell said, appearing beside him at the table. "The trick is to administer it while she's in this state."

"Give me two ounces of the extract, then."

"So much? Is not the regular dose one half to one dram?"

"We shall debate theories later, shall we? With all haste, Miss Haswell."

He continued to help the two women steady Miss Mimpurse while Lilly poured the liquid into a gla.s.s measure and handed it to him.

"Help me pry open her mouth." Using the wooden spoon as a lever, the two managed to open her mouth, pour in the foul liquid, and coax it to the back of her throat. Her swallowing reflex did the rest.

"Now, help us hold her until it takes effect. If it does a"

"It will. Always has."

Already, the young woman's seizures were gentling, whether from the dosage or the simple pa.s.sage of time, he could not tell. He did not like that Miss Haswell felt she had to question him, that she could not trust his judgment.

While they held Miss Mimpurse, he endeavored to explain, "You are correct that the accepted preventative dose is one half to one dram three or four times as day. But more is required to calm an episode in full force."

"I see."

"In any case, I am not convinced valerian suppresses seizures, and it certainly does not cure the root of the disease."

"What is the cure?" she asked.

He glanced at the white-faced mother, then back at Miss Haswell. "I fear there is none."

Later, after he had helped Mrs. Mimpurse put her weakened daughter to bed, and accepted the woman's grat.i.tude, Adam walked outside with Miss Haswell.

"Do you think she ought to take valerian on a daily basis?" she asked.

"Not at this point. I recommend an infusion of scullcap."

"Mad-dog weed?"

"It works as antispasmodic and relaxing nervine both. Perhaps you would be so good as to prepare it?"

"Of course," she said, clearly pleased to be called upon.

Reaching Haswell's, she paused to look up at him. How earnest her expression, her heart-shaped face wreathed by that splendid russet hair.

"May I ask you to keep this episode to yourself? " she began. "Mary is quite self-conscious about her condition. It has been so long since she's had a fit, the poor dear no doubt hoped she'd outgrown them."

He wondered how he could refuse Miss Haswell anything, when she captivated him so. Though she had not asked, she must know she was the reason he had pursued this partnership in Bedsley Priors.

"Dr. Foster may ask for an account of my time, but otherwise I shall keep it to myself as I would in any case."

"Thank you."

He thought then of the next call he must make. "May I ask a favor of you in return? "

At the cottage door, they were greeted by one of the nine Somersby children and a rush of sharp smells. Inside, Mr. and Mrs. Somersby sat at table, a spread of cheese, pickled herring, and mugs of ale before them. Two toddlers sat on the floor, banging wooden spoons against the floorboards. Four others were blowing and chasing a downy feather about the room, keeping it aloft. The family's cottage was small, their clothes old, but as Mr. Somersby was both poulterer and cheese monger, they always ate well. Perhaps, Lilly thought, too well.

"I beg your pardon. I am Dr. Graves, paying a call on behalf of Dr. Foster. And this is Miss Haswell."

Lilly knew the older physician rarely bothered with house calls now that he had Dr. Graves to send about.

"But we had no intention of interrupting your repast."

"Never ye mind." Mrs. Somersby, a plump woman of forty or so years, lifted her ap.r.o.n hem and wiped her mouth. "Chester here come home from market leer-starved. Why not sit yerselves? I've got a junk o' cheese, good an' aged. Chicken livers, too."

"Thank you, no," Dr. Graves said.

The feather landed on his shoulder, unnoticed by him. Lilly plucked it off and blew it in the air for the expectant children.

Mrs. Somersby rose. "Well then. Let's shut us in the bedchamber away from all these peepers. I'm much obliged to you fer comin' *ere. Hard to get away with all these young ones aboot."

As she led the way to the cottage's sole separate room, Dr. Graves said, "Dr. Foster described several complaints of a female nature and I have therefore brought Miss Haswell along."

"As I see."

As soon as the three of them were inside the small bedchamber, Mrs. Somersby lowered herself heavily onto the edge of the bed, and Lilly sat beside her. "Now, tell me," Lilly asked gently. "What ails you?"

"I'm just not my old self of late. My poor nerves are givin' me quiy' a lot of trouble. My Chester don't like how I mump aboot. Seems we *ave a shandy near ever' night for no good reason. And I'm'aving pains in my stomach." She leaned toward Lilly and whispered, "And pains in my breast what don't bear speakin' of in a young man's *earing."

Lilly smiled and said soothingly, "Well, he is a doctor after all, is he not?"

They gave the woman St. John's wort for her nerves and stomach, and a decoction of vervain for the breast pain.

"Now, if that does not bring you relief, you just come by the shop when you can and I shall give you a treatment of tempered figs." Lilly paused, then turned sheepishly to Dr. Graves. "Forgive me. You might prefer to do that yourself. She is your patient after all."

He hesitated, perhaps imagining the awkward scene pressing figs, tempered as hot as a patient could endure, and applying them to Mrs. Somersby's b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He cleared his throat. "Not at all." He said to the woman, "Feel free to see Miss Haswell for that procedure."

They were packing their things away to take their leave when Mrs. Somersby pressed both hands to her temples. "Wha's this? I feel right queer all of a sudden."

Lilly hurried to her side. "What is it?"

"My *ead a aches somethin' awful. Dizzy-like too." Mrs. Somersby used one arm to prop herself upright and moaned, "Wha's *appenin'?" Then she collapsed onto the bed.

"Dr. Graves!" Lilly exclaimed.

Acting quickly and with surprising calm, Dr. Graves deftly gave Mrs. Somersby a dose of ipecacuanha, and once it had done its work, administered hawthorn and strong coffee.

Half an hour later, Mrs. Somersby was quite herself again, though shaken. Lilly prepared a cup of chamomile tea at Dr. Grave's request, then instructed Mr. Somersby to give another cup when his wife finished the first.

When they finally took their leave, Dr. Graves accompanied Lilly back to Haswell's.

"Do you think it was the St. John's wort?" she asked as they neared the shop. "I've never known vervain to produce such a dramatic reaction."

"Nor I."

He opened the shop door for her and followed her inside.

"A skin rash, perhaps," she continued, "but not collapse. Good heavens. I don't know what I would have done had you not been there. Well done, Dr. Graves."

In her relief, she forgot herself and held out her hand in a congratulatory gesture as Mr. Shuttleworth might have done. Instead of briefly pressing it, Dr. Graves took her hand in both of his own, his countenance quite serious.

"When you are with me, I feel as though I might do anything. You strengthen me, Miss Haswell."

She allowed him to hold her hand but shook her head slowly. "I cannot be your strength, Dr. Graves. That is G.o.d's role. I am not fit for it."

"Is it the role you object to, or the man asking it of you?"

She took a deep breath. "At present, I have all I can do to be my father's strength as well as my own."

He let go of her hand and drew himself up. "Of course you have. I would not blame you, in any case. You know my weaknesses too well."

"Have we not all some weakness, Dr. Graves? " Lilly said kindly. "Besides, you seem to be overcoming your weaknesses, as you call them, since coming to Bedsley Priors."

He lifted one side of his mouth in a rueful grin. "Which brings me back to my point, Miss Haswell."

She untied her bonnet and stepped away to hang it on a peg. "We certainly work well together," she allowed. "As evidenced this very day.

"Indeed, though I would certainly not expect you to work alongside me, were we to a That is, unless it were a simple case, or involved a female complaint like Mrs. Somersby's."