The Apothecary's Daughter Read Free Page A

increase our fortune.’
    ‘That has not been a consideration in my decision. Through no fault of her own, the death of this lady’s husband has left
     her in straitened circumstances.’
    ‘This widow has no jointure?’
    Cornelius studied his shoes.
    ‘Then I do not understand. Why would you want to do such a thing?’
    ‘Because it is time. Because I need … companionship.’
    ‘Companionship? But we have each other! We do everything together. What more companionship could you possibly need?’
    Cornelius’s face flooded as crimson as the phials of cochineal in the dispensary. ‘A man needs a wife for …’ He gestured
     with his hands, at a loss for words.
    Suddenly she realised what he meant and the heat rose up in her own face. It had never occurred to her to even
imagine
that her own father had those particular needs.
    ‘The lady is looking forward to meeting you.’
    ‘I don’t want to meet her!’ Her fingers tingled and a cold shiver ran through her whole body. ‘Father, this is madness! Con
     sider …’
    ‘Enough! I shall bring her to dine with us the day after tomorrow.That will give you and Jennet time to prepare a good dinner.’ His tone brooked no argument.
    Susannah swallowed and stood up very straight. ‘Am I to know the name of this widow?’
    ‘Arabella Poynter. A pretty name, is it not? She has two sons and a daughter, Harriet, who is intent upon becoming your friend.’
    There was a roaring in Susannah’s ears and for a moment she wondered if she might faint. ‘Father, you cannot. Everything will
     change!’
    ‘My mind is quite made up.’ He turned his back on her and picked up a book from the table. She was dismissed.
    Her knees trembling with shock, Susannah returned to the kitchen.

    Determined that Mistress Poynter would be unable to find fault with what was to become her new home, Susannah and Jennet set
     to the housework. Tight-lipped, they swept and scrubbed the hall, stairs and parlour from top to bottom, obliterating the
     film of soot that continually settled everywhere from the sea-coal smog.
    Jennet, her hands red and weeping from scouring the pans, took the rugs into the yard and beat them until the cloud of dust
     mingled with the frosty mist of her breath. Susannah polished the plate with horsetail so that the pewter shone with the translucent
     gleam of still water under a thundery sky. Lost in thought, she stared at her reflection while she tried to understand why
     her father would wish to change their lives. It cut her deeply that he’d not told her he was lonely. She’d believed they were
     such close companions that they had no secrets from each other.
    On hands and knees, Susannah rubbed the wide elm floorboards in the parlour with her own beeswax and lavender polish, each
     sweep of the cloth feeding her smouldering resentment. Who
was
this gold-seeking widow who had the temerity to imagine she might take her mother’s place? And why did Harriet, the daughter
     of this interloper, imagine that they might be friends?
    The following morning Cornelius counted out a fistful of coins from the locked chest in his bedchamber and placed them in
     Susannah’s palm. ‘It is my express wish that you do not stint on the quality of this celebration dinner,’ he said.
    Susannah stared at the coins in her hand. She doubted that she had spent as much on food over the past month. Usually bid
     to be frugal, Jennet and Susannah argued over what to cook as they trekked through the snow to the market but agreed that
     a beef and oyster pudding, to Susannah’s mother’s special recipe, of course, was an essential centrepiece for the banquet.
    Nearly two hours had passed by the time they returned with their baskets filled with provisions fit for the feast that Cornelius
     expected for his future bride. Frozen to the bone, they took off their wet over-shoes and built up the fire. Susannah made
     the pastry while her hands were still cold and Jennet put the mutton on to