The Apothecary's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

make the best of it,’ she said. Peace returned.
    After the supper dishes had been cleared away Susannah took down a book of Donne’s poems. She anticipated that the poems of
     Catullus, in the original Latin, might not appeal to Arabella.
    ‘Shall you read first, Father?’ She held the book out to him.
    He took it from her but then placed it slowly on the table. ‘You must be tired after such a day, Susannah. Perhaps you will
     wish to retire?’
    ‘Not at all! I have been looking forward to resuming our discussion of
Astraea Redux.
’
    ‘I think not, Susannah.’
    ‘There is something else you would prefer to read?’
    ‘Not tonight. Are you sure you are not tired?’ His hand reached out to one of Arabella’s silky ringlets and twisted it gently
     around his fingers.
    ‘Oh! I see.’ And she did. She watched her father lay the ringlet onto her stepmother’s bare shoulder and allow his hand to
     linger for a moment on her white skin.
    Arabella gave him a sideways glance through her eyelashes.
    Susannah recalled Richard Berry’s knowing comments and felt her face grow hot. All at once she couldn’t wait to leave the
     parlour. Retiring upstairs far too early was infinitely preferable to watching Father and Arabella making sheep’s eyes at
     one another.
    Upstairs, she had not been in her bed for more than a minute before she heard the stairs creak. Then there were whispers and
     a stifled giggle before the latch of her father’s bedchamber rattled and the door clicked shut. The walls in the old house
     were thin and shecould hear movements for a while but then the muffled voices ceased.
    She lay wide-eyed in the dark, trying not to hear the sighs and gasps of her father’s lovemaking and feeling lonelier than
     at any time since her mother’s death.
    She had put the pillow over her head to shut out the rhythmic knocking of the bed against the wall, when a child’s wailing
     cry made her start up. The knocking stopped but the wailing grew louder and she could hear Arabella’s protesting voice. Unable
     to bear it any longer she went to investigate.
    Mathew was red-faced and roaring as his brother berated him. Harriet had retreated to the corner of the room and huddled on
     the floor, whimpering.
    ‘Whatever is going on in here?’ Susannah asked.
    ‘Mathew’s wet the bed again,’ said John, ‘and my nightshirt is wet, too.’
    Cornelius appeared in the doorway, his mouth set in a thin line. ‘Susannah, will you settle the children?’
    She noticed that his nightshirt was on inside out and there was no sign of his nightcap. ‘Surely Arabella will want to tend
     to them?’ she asked.
    ‘I wish her to rest.’
    ‘But the bedlinen must be changed!’
    ‘Then call for Jennet.’ Without another word he hastened back to the marital bed.
    Susannah didn’t see why Jennet should be disturbed too. Jaw clenched, she stripped the bed and remade it, briskly tucking
     in the corners and tugging the counterpane straight. She settled the boys firmly back into bed but Harriet flatly refused
     to join them. Unable to face a battle of wills, Susannah took the girl into her own bed and fell asleep with a sharp little
     elbow lodged in her back.
    In the morning running footsteps and shrieks of laughter came from the boys’ bedroom and a door slammed hard enough to shake
     the house to its very foundations.
    Harriet kicked her on the shin. ‘Get up! I’m hungry.’
    ‘Has your mother taught you no manners?’ snapped Susannah.
    Harriet stuck out her tongue and jumped out of bed before Susannah could catch her.
    Rubbing at the new bruises on her back, Susannah got up. Her father’s door remained firmly shut. There was a trail of feathers
     across the landing and when she reached the boys’ bedchamber she gasped. The entire room lay under a snowstorm of duck down.
     There was no sign of either the empty pillowcases or the perpetrators of the mischief.
    It was mid-morning when Cornelius and Arabella came