The Apothecary's Daughter Part 38

He leaned in, his expression mock-serious. "Might I have that in writing? "

"I have a sweet!" Charlie triumphantly raised a cake-covered peppermint, then popped it into his mouth.

"What did you find, Charles?" Maude asked quietly.

Her father wiped the find with his handkerchief. "An old Roman coin. Plenty unearthed in these parts. Is this from Harold's collection, or a new find?"

Maude didn't respond to the query about her deceased husband, but Mary murmured, "Treasure from the past."

Lilly glimpsed the crumb-coated thimble on Mary's plate, but noticed she made no move to display it. Mrs. Mimpurse glanced over and clearly saw it as well. Looking worriedly at her daughter's face, she whispered, "I am sorry, my love. It is only a game after all."

Mary shrugged and attempted a smile.

"What is it you have, Miss Mary?" Mr. Shuttleworth asked eagerly.

Lilly sent him a warning look, but the man apparently did not notice or understand, for his long-toothed smile did not waver. He leaned closer. "A thimble, is it? What does it mean?"

An awkward silence filled the room.

Lilly opened her mouth but could not form the words.

Head high, Mary said briskly, "It means I shall never marry."

Mr. Shuttleworth tucked his chin. "What nonsense. You must have Graves's piece." He slapped Dr. Graves hard on the shoulder, causing the slighter man to jerk forward.

Lilly knew most people believed epilepsy rendered a woman ineligible for marriage and motherhood. But she did not agree. Hoping to direct the attention off her friend, Lilly asked, "And what did you find, Mrs. Mimpurse?"

Maude Mimpurse blushed and held up a ring. "I got the piece meant for one of you girls, no doubt."

They all chuckled politely.

"I have a key," Francis said. "What does it mean?"

They all looked at Mary.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Couldn't think of anything else to withstand the oven!"

Everyone laughed.

Everyone except Lilly, who was still forking through her piece. And though she looked and looked, she found nothing at all.

I do not know of any remedy under heaven that is likely to do you so much good as the being constantly electrified.

JOHN WESLEY, 1781.

CHAPTER 33.

hen Lilly came downstairs the next morning, still securing a final pin into the plait coiled at the back of her head, she was pleased to see her father up and about already. Perhaps Dr. Graves's latest treatments were helping after all.

"I've made tea and toast," he announced with pride. "Had a taste for blood sausage, as well, so I'm frying a few slices if you'd care for any.

She shuddered. "You know I cannot abide the stuff. But tea and toast sounds just the thing." Watching her father potter about the kitchen, Lilly smiled to herself. "You must be feeling some better, Father."

"Indeed I am. And I've had a look at the ledgers, Lilly. First time I've had the courage to do so in months."

Scooping his sausage onto a plate, he joined her at the table. "I cannot express how proud I am. Well done, Lillian Grace Haswell. Well done, indeed."

She ducked her head, hiding her smile of pleasure. "Thank you, Father."

He picked up his fork. "No, my dear. Thank you."

"Shall we thank G.o.d, then?" she suggested. "I must say I am feeling quite grateful for His provision of late."

Charles Haswell paused, mouth ajar, and awkwardly lowered his forkful of sausage back down to his plate. "As you like."

Lilly bowed her head and offered a brief prayer of thanksgiving.

Afterward, her Father nodded and quickly moved on. "Once we've eaten, I'd like you to show me everything you've done in the shop. Went out there this morning and scarcely recognized the old place. Smells like a bakery, or a flower shop. But it looks fine, Lilly. Fine."

Lilly bit back another smile and echoed, "As you like."

"I also wonder if it might be time to ask Mrs. Fowler back," he said. "You do far too much on your own."

Lilly heard these words with great relief and pleasure. "I think that an excellent plan. I shall ask her this afternoon."

After they had eaten and done the was.h.i.+ng up together, she led him into the shop, telling him about the Lippert family in London and pointing out the new patent medicines, the French perfumes, the ribbons, the rouge pots and other cosmetics.

"Here's one I used myself in London." She picked up a jar of Warren and Rosser's Milk of Roses and read from its label, " 'The most delightful cosmetic in Europe. Recommended by females of distinction for removing freckles and rendering the complexion delicately fair.' "

He glanced at her and coughed. "I'd request my money back, were I you."

"Father," she scolded, but grinned in spite of herself.

He raised his hands in defense. "I like your freckles." He then paused before an unfamiliar contraption. "And what, pray, is this?"

The apparatus, standing on four gla.s.s legs, resembled a miniature table. Two wooden uprights stood atop it, holding aloft a cylinder with a crank handle on one side and, on the other, an arm extending to a a small metal ball.

"That is the latest thing in London. Supposed to be all the crack, according to George Lippert."

"But a what is it?"

"An electricity machine, reportedly highly effective in the treatment of paralysis, gout, and a perhaps even epilepsy."

"Indeed?"

"John Wesley himself called it 'the most efficacious medicine in nervous disorders of every kind.' "

"Ali, that's right. The good reverend fancied himself a healer as well as an evangelist."

She searched for censure in his expression, but saw only mild incredulity.

He asked, "How does it work?"

"The patient holds the ball and, when the arm contacts the rotating cylinder, receives a shock the strength of which depends upon the vigor with which the handle is turned. I have an explanatory pamphlet, but I own I have not had the courage to try it."

He eyed the device warily. "Let us leave it for another day, shall we? Now, what else have you done?"

They moved on. "Charlie and I repainted the shopwindow. I updated all the displays, as you see. I have also been offering free samples of ready-made items. And a"

When she hesitated, he prompted, "And?"

"And I prayed. A great deal."

Lilly and Mary sat on a bench in front of the coffeehouse, halfheartedly watching a group of young men play a sc.r.a.ppy game of football on the village green, Francis among them.

Enjoying the fading afternoon sun, as well as the cheers and shouts of male camaraderie, Lilly and Mary discussed their plans for the coming Sunday.

Across the green, the door to the Hare and Hounds opened and a beefy young man wobbled out.

"There's Nick Clark," Lilly said quietly. "Still won't speak to me.

"No wonder," Mary said, giving a little snort. "He's not likely to forget how you laid him flat before the entire cricket team."

"It was only that once."

"Twice."

"Well, he should have learned the first time."

Lilly had first slugged the loud-mouthed lad for saying Mary's fits meant she was a witch. The second time occurred when they were girls of fifteen, and Nick Clark had said Lilly's mother was a doxy who had run off with the gypsies.

A few minutes after Nick Clark had gone, Roderick Marlow stepped out of the Hare and Hounds. Lilly knew villagers were shaking their heads, agreeing that the baronet's son had been spending too much time in that establishment since his father's marriage.

Lilly was relieved to see him walk quite steadily across the green, adroitly skirting a near collision with ball and player.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. Marlow! " Mary called before Lilly could silence her with an elbow in her side.

He crossed the High Street and bowed before them. "Miss Haswell. Missa"

"Mimpurse."

"Of course. How fares your mother?"

"She is well, sir. I thank you," Mary said.

"Gentler on you than she was on me, I hope."

Mary bit back a grin. "I am sure my mother meted out whatever each of us deserved, sir."

"Ah, Miss Mimpurse, you wound me," he teased. "You are your mother's daughter."

Mary smiled, then turned to Lilly. "Perhaps Mr. Marlow would like to go along with us?"

Lilly gave a start. "Oha. um. Well a yes," she faltered. "That is an a excellent a idea, Mary."

He raised his brows in mild expectation.

"We are to have a picnic, Mr. Marlow," Mary supplied, elbowing Lilly.

Lilly hastened to say, "I doubt it will be of a fas.h.i.+on you are used to, but you would be most welcome to join us." She stopped, but he still looked at her expectantly. "So a ?

"When is it to be?" he asked.

"Oh." How foolish of her to leave out that detail. "Sunday afternoon. We are to climb Walker's Hill."

Mary added warmly, "And Mr. Shuttleworth is to bring his telescope, so we may determine if one can truly see the spire of the Salisbury Cathedral from there."

"And Mary is bringing along her famous cakes and sweets," Lilly said.

"Plenty for another," Mary a.s.sured him.

Mr. Marlow addressed Mary, "If I were sure Miss Haswell wished me to attend a"

They both turned toward her. Lilly swallowed. "Well, I a of course would be pleased. After all, you showed such kindness in inviting me to join your guests not long ago."

"True. And so I shall return the favor and accept, though clearly not your original intention nor, I daresay, preference."

"Well, I "