Death at Apothecaries' Hall Read Online Free PDF Page A

favoured by the
beau monde
as it is. John, forgive me. There is nothing worse than an old fool, and I behaved very foolishly indeed.’
    The Apothecary gave an exhausted smile. ‘Father, please don’t talk about it further. I truly must get to bed.’
    â€˜Then do so. And in the morning we will travel to Chelsea together and call on Master Alleyn.’
    John nodded, his earlier feeling of discontent far from abated. ‘As you wish. Good night, Sir.’
    â€˜Good night, my boy.’
    Despite his exhaustion, or perhaps because of it, the Apothecary slept badly, his irritable frame of mind combining with the general sense of disquiet which had come over him in Apothecaries’ Hall. Accordingly he was still in a snappish mood when he descended early the next morning to find Nicholas Dawkins, his apprentice, who lived in his Master’s house as was the custom, eating breakfast.
    The boy, often referred to as the Muscovite because of an exotic ancestry which could be traced back to the court of Tsar Peter the Great, was now twenty-one, having come to his chosen profession late. That he was going to make a brilliant apothecary, John had no doubt. Full of foibles as regards young ladies, particularly Mary Ann Whittingham, niece of the legendary John Fielding and one of the prettiest, wickedest little things in London, nothing could detract from John Rawlings’s fondness for the lad. However, this morning he merely grunted a greeting at Nicholas as he sat down opposite him and carved himself a large piece of ham which he wedged between two thick slices of bread.
    â€˜You are not in spirits, Sir?’ enquired the Muscovite, his russet-brown eyes anxious in his naturally pale face.
    â€˜No,’ John answered shortly.
    â€˜May I enquire why?’
    â€˜I have an uneasy feeling about me.’
    â€˜Is it anything to do with the food poisoning at Apothecaries’ Hall?’
    â€˜How very acute of you. Yes.’
    And John proceeded to tell his apprentice all about the incident involving Liveryman Alleyn and the wonderful properties of herb true-love.
    â€˜But you saved him, Sir,’ Nicholas said when his Master had finished. ‘Why are you still distressed?’
    â€˜I don’t know. Perhaps I am over-tired.’ John hesitated. It was beyond the code of conduct between a Master and his apprentice to discuss personal matters, and yet Nicholas was only six years younger than he, and they had been through much together. Longing to tell someone about his disagreement with Sir Gabriel, John threw caution to the winds.
    â€˜There’s something else as well.’
    â€˜What is it?’
    â€˜I quarrelled with my father last night about the country home I want to buy in Kensington. He more or less accused me of trying to get rid of him – putting him out to pasture were his actual words.’
    â€˜He jested no doubt, but perhaps the jest hid a real fear.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜He has always been such a leader of fashion that I expect he dreads leaving town. But more than that, he will miss you, Master. And me. And Mr Fielding. And all the things that go towards making his old age interesting and exciting.’
    John nodded. ‘You’re probably quite right, yet I have never suggested that he should spend all his time in the country. He can live here during the week, just as I intend to do.’
    Nicholas looked wise beyond his years. ‘In his heart of hearts I expect Sir Gabriel knows that once he gets away from town he will find it harder and harder to return. Master, he is growing old in body but not in mind. A hard dilemma.’
    John leaned across the table and patted his apprentice’s head. ‘You’re a shrewd young fellow, aren’t you? I shouldn’t have reacted so badly.’
    â€˜Exhaustion makes us all behave out of character. And to spend a night with a vomiting, purging patient must have been tiring