The Apothecary's Daughter Part 31

"Rich indeed."

"The ingredients alone cost us nearly ten pounds."

Lilly's eyes widened, and she popped a bit of orange into her mouth.

Mary again raised her brows, "Ten pounds tuppence now."

"It was only a t.i.tch." Lilly helped herself to a currant. "What is a t.i.tch, anyway?"

"A dessert-spoonful or quarter ounce, if I took the time to measure proper.

Two fluid drams. Of its own volition, Lilly's mind converted to the apothecaries' system, based on twelve ounces to a pound and eight drams to an ounce. "And you don't need a recipe?" Lilly asked again.

Mary shrugged.

"But you cannot make this cake very often."

"Indeed not. The last one I made was for the christening of the Robbins boy." Mary gave her a shrewd look. "Of course, then I called it a Christening Cake."

"How do you remember not only what goes in it, but the mode of preparation?"

Mary tucked her chin. "An odd question coming from you, of all people."

Lilly chuckled. "We are alike in that ability it seems."

"True. But my concoctions don't save anybody's life."

Grinning, Lilly snitched another currant and popped it into her mouth. "Oh, I would not be too sure."

BITES OF DOGS.

Keep the wound open as long as possible. This may be done by putting a few beans on it, and then by applying a large linseed-meal poultice.

MRS. BEETON'S BOOK OF HOUSEHOLD MANAGEMENT

CHAPTER 26.

er ap.r.o.n and gloves already black from cleaning the stove and __alembic, Lilly decided she might as well clean the shop hearth also. She thought about her recent encounter with Francis, when he helped her with Mrs. Hagar, and realized she had never felt so fl.u.s.tered, so a feminine, in his presence before.

As she knelt to her task, she heard a dog barking outside. She thought little of it at first, but then the barking grew louder and more fevered.

"Down, I say! " She heard a man holler in false bravado. "Down!"

She hurried across the shop and unlatched the door, just as a man pushed it open, causing him to nearly topple into the shop, his hat dropping to the floor. She put out her hands to stop his fall and to keep the man from falling into her.

The Fowlers' wolfhound tried to bound in behind the man, but Lilly forcibly shut the door on the long muzzle of the s.h.a.ggy creature, which likely weighed more than she did. The dog raised itself on its rear haunches at the window and continued to bark.

"Go home, Bones!" she shouted. "Go home!"

The grey dog whimpered but dropped to all fours and trotted away.

She turned from the window to look at Bones's latest victim and started.

"Dr. Graves! " She was stunned to see him again. Especially here in their shop.

He cleared his throat. "Miss Haswell." He bowed awkwardly, and she belatedly curtsied. They both reached for his fallen hat at the same moment, their foreheads nearly colliding.

"Forgive me." She straightened. "Oh! Forgive me! " she repeated more vehemently. "I have blackened your coat!"

He looked down at his tawny frock coat, one shoulder and sleeve now marked with smeared black handprints, like the claw marks of a wild animal.

"My tailor admonished me to choose the dark green," he said dryly, "but I would have my way."

"I shall have it cleaned for you. I know an excellent laundress."

His blue gaze swept her person. "Take no offense, Miss Haswell, but you are in more need of a laundress than I."

She looked down at her own attire, the sooty ap.r.o.n, the blackened gloves. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. "You have some ash, is it? along your cheekbone."

She held up her soiled gloves. "Thank you, but I do not wish to blacken your handkerchief as well."

He hesitated. Was he about to wipe her cheek? Instead, he tucked the piece of fine linen back into his pocket.

"Could be worse," she said feebly. "At least it isn't on my nose."

"Actually-" he winced apologetically "there is a smudge there as well."

She began to put a hand up to s.h.i.+eld her face, but remembered her soiled gloves just in time. She rushed on nervously, "I am sorry about Bones. He is usually harmless but isn't fond of strangers. He did not bite you, I trust?"

"No. All bark and no bite, as they say. Although I rarely find solace in that morsel of wisdom."

"You have been bitten before?" she asked.

"Yes, and still bear the mark to prove it." He pointed to a scar above his upper lip and extending, though faintly, beneath his moustache and nearly to his nose. "It is why I've taken to wearing a moustache, unfas.h.i.+onable as it is."

She nodded, taking in the short golden hairs, a shade darker than the pale blond hair of his head and eyebrows. She had wondered.

"It isn't very noticeable," she said.

"The scar, or the moustache?"

She smiled to cover her embarra.s.sment. "Neither one."

He chuckled dryly. "I must say, this is not at all how I imagined meeting you again."

She peeled off her filthy gloves. "I shouldn't think so. What brings you to Bedsley Priors?"

She wished the words back as soon as she'd said them. Her heart beat anxiously and her neck grew warm. She thought she had alienated him with the news of her mother. Had she mistaken the matter?

He ignored her question and looked around the shop, arms behind his back. "So, this is the famous Haswell's."

She sheepishly followed his gaze. "Well, yes. Though Tuesdays are a slow day for us."

"It is Wednesday."

"Oh. Right."

After a moment of awkward silence, a sudden thought came to her. "Might I take you into my confidence?"

He straightened, eyes alert. "Of course."

"My father is ill," she began quietly.

His brows rose. "Is he? I am sorry to hear it." He hesitated. "Is a that why a you left? "

When she nodded, he expelled a long breath. "I see."

"But he will see neither the village physician nor the new surgeon apothecary," she continued, "for fear of his weakness becoming generally known."

"I don't follow."

"He believes it will steal his credibility. The proverbial 'Physician, heal thyself.' "

"Ah." He nodded his understanding.

"Would you look in on him? There is bad blood, I am afraid, between the local physician and my father."

"Dr. Foster?"

"You have heard of him?"

"Well, yes. I "

"He can be difficult at times, I own," Lilly said. "He rather resents my father, I am afraid. And Father fears he would spread his plight only too eagerly."

"Miss Haswell, I think-"

"But if I explain that you are only visiting," she hurried on, "he might be willing to allow an examination."

"But I am not."

She stared at him, feeling slapped. "Not willing? But-"

"Of course I am willing," he rushed to amend. "But I am not only visiting. I am settling here."

"What?" Her heart hammered. She faltered, "But a oha"

"Dr. Foster is taking a partner, with an eye to retiring in a year or two. I have accepted the situation. It's provisional for now, but if all goes well, I shall remain indefinitely."

"You and a Dr. Foster. Oh, dear. I am sure he is a most capable physician. It is only-"

"Miss Haswell, you needn't worry on my account. Your father's condition and your opinions are safe with me."

She sighed. "Thank you. So you are a licensed physician now?"

"Yes." He bowed once more. "Dr. Adam Graves, at your service.

Three-quarters of an hour later, Dr. Graves emerged from her father's surgery.

"Well? Lilly asked, laying aside the blocks of Castile soap she had been wrapping in brown waxed paper.

He closed the door gingerly and joined her at the counter. "He is resting comfortably. I do not think there is cause for alarm at present."

"But what is it? Do you know? "

"I cannot discuss a patient's condition without his consent."

"He is my father."

"And a grown and, may I add, stubborn man."

That Lilly knew only too well.

"I can tell you he agreed that I might attend him now I am here," he said.

"I am relieved to hear it."

Dr. Graves turned his hat around in his hands. "Miss Haswell, there is something I would speak to you abouta."

Her nerves jingled and she felt a thrill of hope. Had he come to renew his suit? Her thoughts about Francis seemed foolish now.