Death and the Black Pyramid

Twenty-Four

Rose was up early next morning and insisted on extending her playing time with her father, tickling him and making him laugh. She was in her sixth year and had all the beauty that childhood can bring with it. Her skin was finely textured, with a snowy quality relieved from being too stark by the poppies that glistened in her cheeks. Her eyes, a rich hyacinth blue, were wise yet had a distant quality about them. She was small for her age though neatly made, with delicate hands and feet and well-placed limbs. But her most attractive feature was her hair, a spiralling mass of red, rich and true in colour as a fox’s coat. Where this colour had come from was a mystery to John though he presumed it must be connected with his unknown father, a member of the great Rawlings family of Twickenham. All he knew of the man was that he had been of good stock, had fallen in love with and made enceinte one of the serving girls, and had arranged to meet her when she had run away to London. His non-appearance had meant that both John and his mother had been forced to beg on the streets until they had been rescued by Sir Gabriel Kent.

The Apothecary always considered that his life had really started there. From dire poverty he had moved into comfort and cleanliness, a happy home indeed. Eventually Sir Gabriel had married Phyllida, John’s mother, after he had taught her about the finer aspects of living. But she had died in childbirth — the baby daughter as well — and so the young boy had become the only child, the object of all the grieving widower’s affection.

John often thought of how different everything would have been had Phyllida and the baby lived. He would have had a sister, maybe more than one; a brother too perhaps. He would have been able to watch his mother and his stepfather grow into old age together. There would have been peace and harmony and a great deal of love in the house. Yet he could not complain of lack of that. He had been frankly adored by Sir Gabriel but now John realized that that situation was drawing to its inevitable conclusion. His adopted father was over eighty and his time was running out. Soon John’s only living relatives would be his daughter and the child yet to be born.

He hugged Rose tightly and she said, ‘Why are you squeezing me?’

‘Because I love you, my wild rosebud.’

‘And I love you too, Papa. Do you still love Mama?’

‘Of course I do. I shall never stop doing so. But love is a strange thing. It flows along like a mighty river which, in turn, flows into tributaries.’

‘What are they?’

‘They are the little rivers that come off the big one.’

Rose tossed her foxy mane. ‘I don’t think I quite understand.’

John stood up and took her hand in his. ‘I think perhaps you will one day.’

‘I hope so.’ She looked out of the nursery window. ‘Are you going to the shop today?’

‘Yes, in a minute. When you give me permission to go.’

She smiled up at him. ‘I don’t mind it when you are in Shug Lane but Devon is a great way away, isn’t it?’

‘But you like it there. You like Mrs Elizabeth and your pony.’

Rose looked at him and said simply, ‘I like anywhere that you are, Pa.’

‘Are you trying to tell me you miss me when I am not here?’

‘Very much,’ she said, and pulled him down so that she could kiss his cheek.

He went to work shortly afterwards, his thought that he could never leave Rose again uppermost in his mind. One day he knew she would marry and live a great and successful life and part from him to go to her husband with much joy. But now she was young and soft and motherless, and needed a father to take care of her. She loved Sir Gabriel and he adored her but that was not enough. In future, the Apothecary decided, Rose would remain at his side until such time as she went to school. Indeed, when he returned to Devon — as the birth of the forthcoming child insisted he must — he would take his daughter with him and stay in an hostelry if Elizabeth refused to have her. But that situation was hard to imagine. The Marchesa was a wayward woman of strange and capricious temperament but she would never turn Rose away, indeed was fond of the child and spoiled her to a certain extent.

‘Ah, good morning, Sir,’ said Gideon, looking up from dusting the jars and alembics.

‘Good morning to you. Gideon…’

‘Yes, Sir?’

‘I have decided to make a brief visit to Sussex and I wanted to discuss the details of running the shop with you.’

‘Oh Zounds, Sir. You are surely not going to ask Mr de Prycke to take over again!’

‘I don’t think I could bear to make you suffer it. But I must find someone.’

‘But why, Sir? You left Nicholas in charge once he had been with you a certain number of years. Why can’t you leave me to manage the shop? I can deal with many of the patients and those that I think are beyond me I can ask another apothecary to attend to. I can serve potions and physics as well as you can. I promise you, Sir, that I will be industrious and mindful of your affairs.’

John gave a crooked smile. ‘You certainly present a good case.’

‘Sir, I will even sleep in the shop if you should wish. Anything but Mr de Prycke, I beg you.’

‘I shall only be away for a few days, of course.’

Gideon did not answer but turned his large eyes on John and looked at him pleadingly. The Apothecary laughed.

‘Very well, you may run the place in my absence. But anything that is beyond you — and I mean anything, Gideon — you are to send down the road to Piccadilly. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, perfectly. Thank you, Sir, for putting your trust in me.’

‘Well now, let us get on with the business of the day.’

John put on his long apron and walked into the compounding room as the door of the shop rang and the first customer entered the premises.

John let Gideon serve the sick that day, partly to give him good practice and partly because the Apothecary wanted to be silent with his thoughts. He had no firm evidence to go on but the thought that Vinehurst Place was somehow connected with the murder of William Gorringe was growing into something like an obsession. John knew that he would not be happy until he stood once more on the grass, looking across the space to where that beautifully proportioned and elegant piece of architecture, which now, to him, had become the House of Secrets, towered before him.

His mind then turned to Rose. He most certainly would not leave her behind and yet there would be times when the presence of a five-year-old girl might make life difficult. John pondered this and then the answer came to him. He would take Sir Gabriel as well, treat him to a little sojourn in the country, indeed get his views on anything he might discover in Lewes. Feeling suddenly cheerful he whistled as he made some suppositories in a special little rolling machine and Gideon, alone in the shop at that moment, joined in in a melodious light baritone voice.

Eventually it grew dark and the two of them locked up for the night, blowing out the candles and throwing covers over the various displays. Gideon turned the key in the compounding room door, while John locked the main door in the front. Tapers had just been lit in the rooms above the shop and the Apothecary felt reassured that two law students lived up there. He had heard tell that women visited them from time to time but other than for that — or perhaps because of — they were excellent tenants who paid their rent on the day it was due.

He and his apprentice walked home through the gloaming, John falling in love all over again with the city in which he had been brought up. He relished this hour of day when there was enough darkness to hide the filth in the streets, the dead dogs, the human detritus, the strewn litter. But the attraction of every window as it came to life, as chandeliers were hauled up, as servants drew curtains across the space, entranced him. There was a softness about it that appealed to him, a beauty that raised his soul. Beside him Gideon trundled along, whistling and cheerful, pleased that he had been granted jurisdiction over the shop in his master’s absence. But John ignored him, in a kind of spell, adoring everything about this time of day including the delicious smells of dinner that wafted from the various residences he walked past.

Some twenty minutes later they arrived in Nassau Street where they parted company — Gideon going off to eat with the servants, John having a quick wash before he went to join Sir Gabriel in the library. Tonight Rose was still with him, wearing her nightgown, her feet bare and held out to the fire for warmth.

‘Goodness, child,’ said John, ‘you’re only half dressed.’

She turned to look at him, her hair glinting in the firelight. ‘But I’m quite comfortable, Papa. Grandfather and I were just having a chat.’

‘What about?’ asked her father, pouring himself and Sir Gabriel a small sherry and handing the older man a glass before sitting down.

‘About life,’ she answered so seriously that John could not help but smile.

‘What particular aspect were you discussing?’

‘History, actually,’ she answered, and gave him a look in which John saw Emilia.

He exchanged a glance with his father.

‘I was telling Rose about the Great Plague of 1665 and the Great Fire that followed a year later.’

‘The Plague, eh?’ said John thoughtfully. ‘That was a terrible time. Hundreds died every week. And no apothecary and no physician could do anything about it.’

‘Is it true that the people were buried in plague pits?’ Rose asked.

‘Yes, there are several dotted round and about.’

‘Where?’ she enquired eagerly.

The Apothecary became deliberately vague. ‘Various places in London. Their actual location is secret.’

‘Why is that?’

‘So that curious people won’t go digging them up and start the epidemic all over again.’

Rose pulled a face. ‘What a horrid thought. I do not care for the sound of it.’

John grinned. ‘Then the best thing is to think about something else. How would the two of you like to come away with me next week?’

Rose jumped in the air. ‘Oh, yes please. Where to Papa?’

‘To Sussex. To a small country town called Lewes. I’ve got some looking around to do and it would be so nice to have your company. Father?’

‘I don’t know, my son. I don’t move about much anymore as you well know.’

‘Nonsense, Sir. You are known for your walks round Kensington.’

‘They are on the level. I pant going up slopes and what I can remember of Lewes is that it is very hilly.’

‘Indeed it is. But if we travel in my coach Irish Tom can take you wherever you please so that you need only perambulate on the flat.’

Sir Gabriel considered, putting his superbly turbaned head on one side so that the zircon adorning it glinted in the light of the flames. John, as he had so many times in his life before, silently drew breath in wonderment at the magnificence of the great man.

‘Please come, Sir,’ he said quietly.

Sir Gabriel raised his head. ‘Put like that, my boy, it would be impossible to resist.’

Rose leapt to her feet and gave her grandfather a thorough hugging. ‘T’will be a great adventure, Grandpa. We might discover something.’

‘What sort of thing?’ he asked, holding her at arm’s length and looking at her quizically.

‘I don’t know exactly, but something exciting and mysterious,’ Rose answered, and throwing her head back laughed the laugh of a happy child.