The Apothecary's Daughter Part 48

"I don't know. But it is possible."

"Then I must be there should he awaken." He rose quickly. "Beg him to change his mind and a to forgive me."

With that he turned, leapt on his horse, and galloped away, without farewell or backward glance.

That evening, when Lilly confided Mr. Marlow's tidings in hushed tones to Mrs. Mimpurse, the Marlows' former nurserymaid shook her head, her mouth turned down in a rare frown.

"Him not even in his grave and already they're fighting o'er his money. Fuss and commotion."

"What's this about?" Mary asked, coming in from the dining room, her finger still wrapped but healing nicely.

"Sir Henry changed his will," Lilly explained once more. "So much money is to go to the new Lady Marlow that, in raising the sum, Marlow House may very well be ruined."

Mary's brow puckered. "If she wanted the money and t.i.tle of Lady, " she began, "why not marry the heir and have both? She had to know Sir Henry could not be expected to live many years."

"Perhaps she really does love Sir Henry," Mrs. Mimpurse ventured. She sighed. "And now the poor man is senseless, and not two months gone since the honeymoon."

Lilly knew Maude was partial to her former employer, but she could not quite believe Ca.s.sandra Powell had married the sickly baronet for love alone. "Or perhaps she liked the thought of a widow's jointure to spend as she liked."

Mrs. Mimpurse shook her head. "Most widows get only a small portion of the dowry they brought to the marriage. Beyond that, they must depend upon the generosity of the husband's heir."

Lilly considered this. "Then perhaps Lady Marlow did not wish to depend upon Roderick's generosity, and that is why she worked on Sir Henry to change his will, as Roderick suspects."

That Lilly would believe. But she did not foresee the danger it would mean for them all.

Oh thou, to whom such healing power is giv'n

The delegate, as we believe, of heaven.

RICHARD c.u.mBERLAND, ODE TO DOCTOR ROBERT JAMES.

CHAPTER 43.

when the summons came the following afternoon, Lilly was not overly surprised. In the hastily written note, Roderick Marlow bid Charles Haswell to come directly, bringing all medical necessities.

"I did not think I would be summoned, not with Foster attending Sir Henry yesterday." Her father groaned and swung his legs off the side of the bed.

"I shall go again, Father. You are still not fit for it."

He lifted the piece of paper. "He asks specifically for me in the most pointed terms. I dare not refuse."

"Then I shall go with you."

She harnessed Pennywort to the gig and helped her father up into it, then set his largest medical case on the floor.

When they arrived, Mr. Withers opened the door to them. Lilly noticed the man still seemed agitated, and was surprised when he did not escort them up to his master's rooms as he had on previous calls.

She helped her father up the long staircase and down the corridor to Sir Henry's chambers. Holding his arm, she said, "Lean on me, Father. It is not much further."

She pushed open the first door and was surprised and perplexed to see Dr. Graves standing in Sir Henry's outer dressing room.

"We did not expect you to be here," she said.

"I was summoned by Mr. Marlow."

"As were we."

Before either of them could say anything further, her father's knees buckled. Dr. Graves rushed to take his arm, and together they helped him to the stuffed chair. With shaky hand, her father pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his perspiring brow. "A great many stairs, that."

Moments later, the door opened again, and Mr. Shuttleworth came in, stick in hand. He smoothed down his fine coat before realizing there were others already in the room. He seemed startled to see them there. "Good heavens. The old man must be very bad indeed."

Lilly nodded. Her heart pounded at the thought of the grief and rage she had witnessed in Roderick Marlow the previous day. Whatever was about to happen would not be pleasant.

The door to the inner room, Sir Henry's private bedchamber, opened and Roderick Marlow strode out. He stood, hands on hips, eyes blazing. His face seemed more gaunt than she remembered, and his strange eyes, unfocused and glowering, were like those of a mad dog.

When those eyes lit on her, he seemed to falter. "Miss Haswell a you should not be here." He swept his arm toward the door. "You may leave. Go."

She forced herself to hold his gaze without flinching. "I will stay and a.s.sist my father in whatever you have summoned us here to do."

He hesitated only a moment. "As you wish." He lifted his outstretched arm and scratched at the back of his neck. "I cannot say I am surprised. Everyone knows the apothecary's clever daughter is all but running Haswell's these days. The master to her father's impotent puppet."

The words felt like a slap after his recent kindnesses. Her father opened his mouth to protest, but then tucked his chin, defeated.

She squeezed her father's shoulder. "Charles Haswell is the greatest apothecary Wilts.h.i.+re has ever known."

"So he would have us believe. Today, he shall have his chance to prove it. Or be ruined once and for all."

She opened her mouth-stunned-but no words came.

Marlow paced the room maniacally before them. "You medical sorts. You all pretend to such powers, such compa.s.sion, but really, all you care about are your own purses. I read the papers, I know about the posturing, the verbal battles about who should be allowed to treat what. You don't care about patients you care only for your own livelihoods."

He jerked his thumb toward his father's bedchamber. "Dr. Foster was here last night and again this morning. It seems that each of you has treated my father has filled him with potions that together have rendered him unconscious. You have all treated my father in the last week, have you not?" He paused, scorching each of them with his gaze.

Lilly was flummoxed. Aside from her father, she'd had no idea the others had so recently seen Sir Henry. Why had no one told her?

"Lady Marlow sent for me three days ago," Dr. Graves defended. "I did what I could for Sir Henry, which was little enough, but he was still lucid when I left."

Her father nodded. "I called on Sir Henry that same evening. I found him weak but stable."

Mr. Shuttleworth's dark eyebrows seemed unnaturally high on his forehead. "Sir Henry's solicitor asked me to render an opinion two days ago. Said he did not trust his client was getting the best care."

Lilly felt her face wrinkle in confusion. She said, "Mr. Withers summoned me that is, my father again yesterday. I came in his stead."

Mr. Marlow paced before them once more. "And so you each plied him with elixirs that in combination worked to send him into a coma. Now you will work together to revive him."

Lilly shook her head in dismay. Sir Henry was already unconscious when she arrived yesterday, but she made no attempt to exonerate herself. In her mind, if her father bore any responsibility, she did as well. When she had last seen Roderick Marlow, he had been looking for someone to blame. Now it appeared he had found his scapegoat. Several of them, in fact.

"I know you will not endeavor to revive my father for pity's sake," Marlow continued. "Nor for mine. Financial reward has not been sufficient motivation to this point, so instead I offer threat. Punishment. I have no power to cure my father, but I have enough to crush each of you. To bring ruination to your practices, your reputations. Is this motivation more suitable, more efficacious, as you say? Will you now heal my father?"

Dread filled her like bile. Roderick Marlow must be drunk. Perhaps even mad. She had never seen him like this. She barely recognized this furious, desperate man as the same one she had kissed not so long ago in the stables.

Marlow stopped before her father, s.h.i.+fting his weight to one hip. "Haswell, legend has it that you once raised my grandfather from the dead. How convenient for you otherwise people would not have been so quick to overlook your fickle wife and idiot son. How the hordes have flocked to you, to lap up your counsel and supposed cures. You have lived off your fame long enough."

Marlow turned. "Shuttleworth, you came to town claiming your worldly experience, your remedies brought from distant lands. Here is your chance to show up your rivals."

"And Dr. Graves." Marlow's lip curled. "You with your privileged Oxford education about which you constantly remind us. Here is your opportunity to prove your knowledge superior to the less-learned surgeon or apothecary."

His hands returned to his hips. "Personally, I do not care which one of you succeeds. But should you all fail, if my father dies without regaining consciousness, your livelihoods die with him." He looked once more at Lilly. "You should have left, Miss Haswell, when you had the chance."

The outer door slammed behind Roderick Marlow, and no one spoke or moved until the echo died away. Then together the four of them quietly entered Sir Henry's inner chamber and approached his bed. How still the man was. How grey.

"Good Lord," her father breathed. "He is far gone indeed."

Dr. Graves bent to listen to the old man's heart. Mr. Shuttleworth lifted Sir Henry's sagging eyelids and palpated his abdomen. Her father took up his limp wrist. "Rapid, yet weak."

Together they discussed how each had treated Sir Henry, what medicines they had given him, and if any of these might have reacted adversely together.

"I gave him a very low dose of digitalis for dropsy," Dr. Graves said. "It would not have done this."

"Digitalis?" Shuttleworth asked. "When an infusion of juniper or briony would have been much less risky?"

"Gentlemen, please," Lilly said. "Let us not place blame. Let us together find a solution."

"Solution?" Dr. Graves's voice rose, incredulous. "The man is dying. There is no solution."

Lilly thought, flayed her memory for answers. Could she could any of them find a possible remedy for this impossible situation? Neither physician, surgeon, nor apothecary knew anything to do for Sir Henry. Nor for his desperate son.

They needed a miracle.

The door burst open behind them. Whirling about, Lilly saw Francis Baylor at the threshold, quite out of breath. She felt unaccountably relieved to see him. "Francis! Were you summoned as well?"

Francis surveyed the room and its occupants. "No. But Mrs. Mimpurse told me about the will. When I couldn't find Mr. Shuttleworth, or either of you, I became concerned. Thought I had better come. See how I might help."

"Have you some remedy in mind?" Mr. Shuttleworth asked.

Francis walked across the room and laid his hand on the baronet's pale brow. It seemed clear the old man was not long for the world. "I am afraid I don't. Though I may have let Withers believe I did, to gain entry."

Dr. Graves asked, "What's this about a new will?"

Lilly confided, in low tones, what she had learned from Mr. Marlow about the new will the primary reason, she suspected, for today's threats. Unless a Could he really be so desperate to gain his father's forgiveness?

The outer door banged open again and Roderick Marlow strode in. "What is this about a remedy, Baylor?" he challenged.

Francis held up his hand. "I am afraid there is little any of us can do for Sir Henry but pray."

Marlow threw up his hands in angry disgust.

Francis said, "But I suggest you stay in herewith your father, Mr. Marlow. Spend all the time you can at his side. Talk to him. He may very well be able to hear you."

For a moment, Marlow's eyes lit. "Do you really think he might? "

Francis nodded. "The rest of us will leave you and Sir Henry in peace.

Marlow crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. "None of you is going anywhere. Not until you have accomplished what I summoned you here to do."

"We are not leaving, sir. Only withdrawing to the dressing room." Francis held Marlow's glare without wavering. "You have my word we shall not depart until you give us leave to do so."

Roderick Marlow hesitated, staring at Francis, sizing up the younger man. Lilly was surprised when he nodded and returned to his father's bedside.

The rest of them moved to the door. Dr. Graves took one of her father's arms, she the other, and together they helped him to the chair in the dressing room. Francis closed the bedchamber door behind him.

As he helped Mr. Haswell back into the stuffed chair, Adam Graves found himself remembering Lady Marlow's veiled threat to Roderick atop Adam's Grave. Was that somehow related to the present threat? Had the new will her unexpectedly large jointure been what she had referred to? If so, no wonder the man was incensed.

Adam forced himself to remain calm and think. Turning to Lillian's father, he began, "Mr. Haswell. If it is true that you once raised a man from the dead, might we ask for a repeat performance? "

"Indeed, Mr. Haswell," Shuttleworth added. "If you could get us out of this muddle, I would be much obliged."