Death in Hellfire Read Online Free PDF Page B

Nicholas, who this morning was looking decidedly in need of mothering in his dark clothes and impeccable white cravat, which only served to enhance his pale complexion and slim body.
    John turned to look at him. “Nick, don’t you think it is time that you addressed me as John?”
    His former apprentice looked quite shocked. “Oh no, sir. It would be difficult for me to do that. You were my master for many years and that is something that cannot be forgotten.”
    “No indeed. But nonetheless I would like it if we ceased to be so formal.”
    “I will try to accede to your wishes, sir.”
    John gave a quizzical smile. “I’m glad to hear it.” He looked round. “Where is Gideon?”
    “I have sent him out to administer a clyster of Good Henry.”
    “Really? Is he ready for that?”
    “More than ready, sir. As you know I have a dislike of giving clysters - always have had, I fear - so I made sure that Gideon was fully trained in that discipline. He does most of the bowel work nowadays.”
    “Don’t tell me he enjoys it.”
    “He seems to have a rough and ready approach which most of the patients find commendable. All except the young females which I do myself.”
    “I’m sure that makes it as pleasant as possible for them,” said John drily.
    “I like to think so, sir,” answered Nick seriously. He changed the subject. “When will you be off in pursuit of your quarry?”
    “In a day or two. I am going to see Sir John tomorrow evening and will get my final orders from him.”
    “Very good.”
    The Apothecary suddenly felt a wave of compassion. “Look, Nick, why don’t you come round and dine this evening. As I am going away I would relish the chance to talk to you. And you look as if you could do with a good meal.”
    His former apprentice grinned, transforming his features into those of a most becoming young man. “Oh, I eat well enough, sir. It’s just that I was born to be thin. But I would very much like to accept your invitation. At what time shall I call?”
    “I’m afraid we dine late because of the shop. Shall we say six o’clock?”
    “That will give me time to race home and change.”
    “Indeed it will,” John answered.

    Before he left the house he had scribbled a quick note to Miss da Costa asking her if she could call on him that afternoon. And while he was away at his shop a reply had arrived at Nassau Street saying that she would attend at four o’clock and apologising for the lateness of her arrival. John guessed at once that she had applied for another post and was being interviewed. Remembering the freshness of her and the general jollity of her manner he prayed that Rose would choose as he had.
    He returned home at three and called his daughter in from the garden where she had been playing with Sir Gabriel. Sending her upstairs for the nursery maid to clean her up, his father too retired to the upper regions.
    “I just thought I would sit in on the interview and see the young woman for myself,” he had remarked casually, his lower foot on the bottom stair.
    “I will value your opinion greatly, sir,” answered John, well aware that his adopted father was bursting with curiosity.
    “Then I will go and prepare myself,” Sir Gabriel had answered, pulling his old-fashioned three-storey wig firmly down upon his head.
    Punctually at four o’clock the bell rang and Miss da Costa, today wearing a sky blue hat with matching open robe and cream petticoat, was ushered into the library to be greeted by three pairs of eyes, all regarding her with different expressions. The old man, dressed to the hilt in black and white, was eyeing her as if he could see into her soul, which he probably could, she thought. Mr Rawlings, on the other hand, was smiling at her. But it was to the child, whose dark blue eyes seemed as large as an opened flower, that she was drawn. Miss da Costa saw ancient mystery in those eyes, knew at once that the child was gifted, to the point where she exclaimed, “Oh,