The Apothecary's Daughter Part 25

Feeling Mr. Marlow's eyes on her, she rushed to say, "I only wanted to speak with you for a few moments. I shall come again another time."

"Nonsense. You must stay," Roger insisted.

"Yes, of course," Marlow said politely. "Come, Miss Haswell." He gestured toward the door. "Shall we speak in the library? Then you may rejoin your most ardent admirer." Marlow cast a shrewd look at Roger Bromley. "Although I had hoped to win back my ten at whist."

"Another time, my friend." Roger grinned. "Who desires gaming when such beauty is before us?"

Lilly all but rolled her eyes.

"Come, Miss Haswell." Roderick Marlow opened the door for her with a flourish, as though welcoming the queen herself. Was he mocking her?

Once they were closed in the library, Lilly swallowed, wondering if seeking privacy had been a good idea.

Mr. Marlow remained standing but leaned back, propping himself against the edge of a ma.s.sive desk, arms crossed. He dipped his chin, indicating a chair nearby. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

She stepped closer but remained standing. "My brother, Charlie." When he appeared not to apprehend her meaning, she clarified, "Your new undergardener? "

"Ah, yes. Stedman mentioned something. In fact, he reported the lad was working out rather well. Is there a problem?"

"Not a problem, exactly. But while I appreciate the offer of employment for him, Charlie is needed at home at present. Having both of us gone has left my father shorthanded, and there is much work to be done."

"Yes, I had heard something about Haswell's falling into disrepair."

She bit back a defensive reb.u.t.tal. He was right, after all, but it hurt her pride to hear him say it so matter-of-factly. "Yes, well. I understand you waived an apprentices.h.i.+p fee, but my brother is very conscientious and doesn't want to break his contract, nor hinder his opportunities for future employment." She was relieved when he didn't ask why she was negotiating on her brother's behalf. Was he aware of Charlie's limitations?

He straightened to his full height and waved her concerns away as though a midge before his face. "Think no more of it, Miss Haswell. I understand. I will speak to Stedman and to Timms. Your brother may return to your father's shop without worry. He may even have a reference, if you like. And he will be welcomed back here, should the situation change and he is no longer needed at home."

She was stunned at how easily it was done. Was he really so kind, or simply eager to return to his guests? She had certainly asked at an opportune time.

"Thank you, sir. That is most magnanimous."

He stepped to the door, opened it, and looked back at her. Her invitation to leave.

She walked toward him but was surprised when he held out his arm. She looked up at him in question.

"May I escort you to the dining room?" he asked.

"But I a No. I did not intend nor presume a"

He looked at her closely. "Did you really refuse Roger Bromley?"

She took a deep breath. "I suppose I did. But only because I knew he loved another."

He nodded thoughtfully. "And you believe people should marry for love, Miss Haswell? "

"I do not know about all people, but I should."

"Shall we?"

"Shall we what?"

"Go in to dinner."

"Oh, of course." Of course he'd meant dinner, not of course she would stay for it.

Roger Bromley appeared in the corridor. "Enough village business. I'd hoped to escort Miss Haswell to the dining room."

"Too late, Bromley." Marlow actually took her hand and laid it on his arm. "I am afraid you shall have to escort Miss Whittier and her chaperone instead."

Across the hall, Susan Whittier stood with a faded, weary-faced woman of fifty or so years. Susan looked rather vexed. "Has everyone forgotten me? "

"There, there," Roger soothed, striding across the room and offering his arm. She actually smiled and laid her hand on his sleeve. Roger looked at Lilly over his shoulder and winked again.

Before she could protest further, Marlow was leading Lilly across the grand hall.

From above, a flash of green caught her eye. She looked up and saw a woman gliding down the staircase in gleaming layers of emerald silk. Her bearing was elegant, her crown of red hair regal, her porcelain features flawless. Yes, this was the woman she had seen on Roderick Marlow's arm at a London ball. How beautiful she was. Lilly felt horribly underdressed in her walking frock and straw bonnet.

The butler, Mr. Withers, appeared and offered to take her wrap. She swallowed. Should she stay? She wasn't properly dressed for dinner. Nor invited. Nervously, she removed her hat and handed it to Mr. Withers. Then she untied the bow that released the mantle from her neck and shoulders, and the butler took that from her as well. Roderick's gaze surveyed her throat and neckline before returning to her overheated face. Why did he want her to stay? Was not this woman, now pausing before them, his intended?

"Miss Lillian Haswell, Miss Ca.s.sandra Powell."

Miss Powell dipped her head politely but reservedly. Lilly returned the gesture. Closer now, Lilly realized that Miss Powell was older than she appeared from a distance. Perhaps a few years older than Roderick Marlow himself.

"I believe I saw the two of you in London together." Lilly meant it as an indication that she understood they were a couple and she posed no threat. But neither reacted as she'd expected.

Roderick cleared his throat, and Miss Powell looked away. "I do not recall such an occasion." She flipped open her lacquered fan. "Well, I shall just see myself in."

"Nonsense, Ca.s.s Miss Powell." He offered her his left arm, his right still trapping Lilly's hand to his side. Miss Powell coolly accepted. And Lilly was taken in to dinner, feeling very much like the proverbial lamb being led to slaughter.

I will not dwell upon ragouts or roasts,

Albeit all human history attests

That happiness for man the hungry sinner!

Since Eve ate apples, much depends on the dinner.

LORD BYRON.

CHAPTER 21.

he evening pa.s.sed more pleasantly than Lilly would have guessed. Roderick Marlow was a gallant host, skillfully including everyone in a conversation that ranged from the London season to fas.h.i.+on, books, parliamentary affairs, and the war with France. Roger Bromley was also a master conversationalist, and managed to compliment both Lilly and Susan in equal measure, so that by the second course, Susan Whittier was smiling with genuine warmth at both Roger and Lilly. Miss Whittier's chaperone ate silently but voraciously for such a small woman. Toby Horton drank too much and spoke his opinions too loudly, but otherwise the meal pa.s.sed very agreeably. Even red-haired Ca.s.sandra Powell made an effort to show interest in the others, as though she were already mistress of Marlow House.

The meal was finer by far than the plain fare soups, stews, beef and kidney pies she'd either prepared or been given since returning home. Finer even than most of the tables she had seen laid in London. For the first course they were served green-pea soup, crimped perch with Dutch sauce, stewed veal and peas, lamb cutlets and cuc.u.mbers. Then came a second course of haunch of venison, boiled capon in white sauce, braised tongue and vegetables. Finally, there arrived a third course of lobster salad, raspberry and currant tart, strawberry cream, meringues, and iced pudding. Lilly took only tiny portions from the serving dishes nearest her but still could not eat everything on her plate. Giving herself a respite, she paused to touch a linen serviette to her lips.

"Is the meal to your liking, Miss Haswell?" Roderick Marlow asked, raising his goblet.

"Indeed, sir. Mrs. Tobias is to be commended. I had not a finer meal in all my time in London."

Roderick Marlow dipped his head appreciatively.

"And how long were you in London?" Miss Powell asked. "A fortnight?"

Lilly ignored her pointed condescension. "A year and a half."

"Miss Haswell lived with her uncle and aunt, Jonathan and Ruth Elliott," Roger Bromley said warmly. "Fine people and friends of my parents."

Even Susan Whittier added a kind word. "Miss Haswell was quite a favorite with the Price-Winters family, Ca.s.sandra. You were guest in their grand home on at least one occasion."

Miss Powell nodded slightly but sipped from her wine gla.s.s in lieu of responding.

When the ladies withdrew to allow the men to drink port and smoke their pipes in private, Miss Powell led the way to the drawing room. Lilly followed reluctantly, knowing it would be rude not to join the ladies for at least a short time. Miss Powell went directly to the pianoforte and sat gracefully upon its bench. She ran her fingers over the keys with a flourish, then began playing a dramatic piece. Susan Whittier followed her chaperone's example and sat on one of the settees. She picked up a book lying on its arm but quickly laid it back down. She and Lilly exchanged an awkward smile. It was difficult to speak over the music, but Lilly sat on a chair near Susan and attempted it anyway.

"Your gown is lovely," Lilly said, eyeing the evening dress of willow-green crepe with gauze flowers around the hem.

"Do you think so? When I saw Ca.s.sandra's silk was green too, I feared we would clash horribly."

"It is beautiful, truly."

Miss Whittier smiled self-consciously. "Thank you."

Lilly could almost believe Susan an agreeable young woman, when not jealous, vexed, or bored. She hoped so, for Roger's sake.

Susan leaned closer. "Do not mind Ca.s.sandra. I am afraid she wields her disappointments like claws."

Her tongue as well, Lilly thought.

"She was engaged once, you see, but her fiance was-"

Miss Powell halted mid-stanza, the chords fading under her words. "How amusing to see the two of you sitting together all politeness. Two rivals under the same roof."

"One might say the same of two others, Ca.s.sandra," Susan said cryptically.

What did that mean? Lilly wondered. Two sets of rivals?

Miss Powell's eyes narrowed. "Careful, Susan dear."

Susan Whittier rose. "Please excuse me, ladies. I am just going to dash to my chamber and freshen my toilette."

"Good idea." Miss Powell smiled archly. When Susan and her matronly companion had gone, Miss Powell resumed playing this time a quiet, moody piece. "Poor Susan. Only wants what she cannot have."

Lilly thought this quite perceptive. Susan Whittier certainly seemed to only want Mr. Bromley when she thought she could not have him.

"You are a shopkeeper's daughter, are you not?" Miss Powell asked.

"An apothecary's daughter."

Miss Powell lifted one hand from the keys in a dismissive wave.

"That explains a great deal." She played a few more bars, then paused. "But not everything."

Lilly rose, deciding she had better take her leave before she said something foolish.

"I shall bid you good-night, Miss Powell."

Ca.s.sandra dipped her head slightly, but kept her eyes on the sheet music before her. "I shall be going up in a moment myself. I want to visit Sir Henry. The baronet was up and about all day yesterday. Bested us all at archery, went riding. Quite exhausted himself, I am afraid. Such a pity he was not feeling well enough to join us tonight."

"A great pity. Do greet him for me."

Ca.s.sandra paused in her playing. "You are acquainted with Sir Henry? "