Death at the Wedding Feast Read Online Free PDF Page B

felt a huge burst of pride.
    There came another knock at the French doors and Mrs Fortune, at a nod from John, went to let her in. The little girl, slightly nervous for once, stood eyeing them all without saying a word. Eventually, though, she approached the Apothecary and slipped her hand into one of his.
    â€˜Mrs Fortune,’ he said gravely, ‘may I introduce my daughter, Rose Rawlings?’
    Jacquetta stared at her a moment before dropping a deep curtsey. ‘The pleasure is entirely mine, Miss Rawlings.’
    Remembering her manners, Rose did her best curtsey back and said, ‘No, no, Madam. It is mine, I assure you.’

Four
    Mrs Fortune had finally removed her hat and John could see at breakfast the next morning that her hair was very much as he had imagined it would be, the colour of shining silver-gilt. The meal done, she and Gideon immediately got to work and spent the rest of the time in conference, ordering bottles and ledgers and the million other sundries that apparently were needed to start a business. Young Mr Purle was obviously very taken by the fact that his master had, once again, done the unusual and appointed a woman for the task. And the Apothecary could not help but smile to himself at the obvious enjoyment his apprentice got from Jacquetta’s company. He, meanwhile, had returned to the quiet of Shug Lane, removing himself from all the hurly-burly and excitement.
    John had decided that on his next extended trip to Devon he would leave Gideon in sole charge of the shop, and considering this made him think of getting a new and young apprentice, someone that the older one could order about. He had accordingly written to several schoolmasters asking them to recommend any leavers who might be interested in becoming an apothecary and one answer in particular had caught his attention.
    Master Robin Hazell might be just to Your Suiting, Sir. He has a Carefree Disposition but Studies Assiduously Everything to do with the Nature of Herbs etc. He is leaving School on the twenty-third day of February – Easter being so Early – and I can Send Him Direct to You should You so Desire it.
    The Apothecary had replied by return post that he did so desire and awaited the arrival of Master Hazell at two o’clock on the 25th. Unfortunately this was the time when the shop suddenly became thronged with customers, all wanting attention and wanting it quickly, and John worked so hard that he noticed nobody enter, and finally, feeling flat as a flounder, collapsed on to a chair behind the counter when the rush was over.
    â€˜Please, Sir, but would you be Mr Rawlings?’ asked a small voice from the corner.
    John jumped up, smoothing down his long apron, and peered in the direction of the sound. Wondering whether he needed spectacles, John narrowed his eyes but could see no one there. Then he felt a tug on his apron strings and wheeled round to behold a very small boy who was standing behind him.
    â€˜And who might you be?’ he said rather crossly.
    â€˜I’m Robin Hazell, Sir. We ’ad an appointment – or so I fawt.’
    â€˜But you can’t be sixteen,’ John answered, staring down at him.
    â€˜I am, Sir, honest. It’s just that I’m small, like me mother was.’ The boy, who reached just above John’s waist, looked suddenly folorn. ‘Am I too short, then?’
    â€˜For what?’ answered the Apothecary, slightly irritated.
    â€˜To become your apprentice, Sir.’ The boy’s lower lip trembled and his eyes looked large with tears, though none as yet had trickled down his cheeks.
    John suddenly felt profoundly sorry for the little chap. ‘Shall we go into the compounding room and there have a cup of tea?’ he asked in a much gentler tone.
    â€˜I would like that very much, Sir.’ And a small hand crept into the Apothecary’s as they walked together to the back of the shop.
    There was absolutely no way that this