The Apothecary’s Apprentice 05
The Apothecary's Apprentice
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Anthony was sitting at his twin’s bedside discussing the events of the day.
“’Twas fortunate, Norrie, that I came across the girl at Gryce’s shop. You would have sobbed yourself into the grave and all for nothing.”
Honoria pouted.
“Not for nothing, brother. I am over-warm and the rash itches abominably. I shall never sleep for it.”
“Happen we should request a remedy to help.”
On the other side of the bed, the serving woman looked up from straightening the covers.
“Beg pardon, sir, but poppy juice is known to induce a peaceful night’s rest. I heard it from Goodwife Parry’s own lips.
“Seems the granddaughter is following in her footsteps. It might be worth requesting a dose.”
Anthony’s mind whirled. Jennet Parry had been in his thoughts all day.
She intrigued him. What made a young woman so lovely to look upon want to throw in her lot with the apothecary trade, with their noxious simples and vile-tasting brews?
It was beyond his comprehension.
It occurred to him with a shock that it was not just Jennet’s looks that appealed, but the person herself.
Honoria, not too far gone with discomfort to miss the expression on her brother’s face, made a gesture with her hand.
“If you are thinking what I believe you are thinking, brother, I should forget it. The girl deserves better.”
Anthony made a face.
“Fie, sister. You would deny me a mild flirtation?”
“’Tis not worthy of you. Jennet Parry came here at potential risk to herself, when no-one else would venture near.
“Papa was disgusted when the doctor refused him. Gryce was of the same mind. Papa has made a gesture of appreciation. Let the matter rest.”
“I was thinking to get you the remedy to help you sleep,” Anthony remarked innocently.
“That is not all you were thinking.”
“Nay, you are right. I was wondering if Gryce has honoured Papa’s request and taken the girl on in the shop.”
“In which case, she will be back to mark my progress,” Honoria pointed out. “Can you not wait till then?”
“Not I. I’ve a mind to visit the shop on the morrow,” Anthony declared.
Honoria sighed and fondled her dog’s silky ears.
Her face said it all.
Early next morning, dark still pressing against the window, Jennet surveyed the stillroom in the yellow glow of the lamp.
The place had evidently not seen broom or dusting cloth since the demise of Mistress Gryce, and Jennet curled a lip in disgust.
Her stillroom would be kept in order, the glass phials and brownstone jars on the shelves alphabetically arranged.
Her workbench would be scrubbed to within an inch of its life and her brass scales would gleam from buffing.
She pulled on a drugget apron over her new clothes and picked up the broom.
She worked quickly, aware of the shop being open for the day, the passage of customers and the murmur of her master’s voice making recommendations.
She was almost done when the bell clanged again.
A voice gave her pause.
Her heart lurched. It was Anthony Venables.
“Good morrow, Gryce.”
“Master Anthony. Good morrow.”
In the stillroom, Jennet held her breath.
“The girl Parry is here, I warrant?”
“She is, sir. At your good sire’s suggestion.”
“Ah. Summon her for me. I would speak with her.”
At her master’s curt hail, Jennet hastily removed her apron, smoothed her skirts and went through to the shop.
He was standing by the counter, today wearing a crimson doublet slashed with emerald, a lace neck-ruff and tasselled cap.
His clean-shaven, wind-buffed face broke into a smile.
“Why, Jennet. Good morrow to you.”
“Good morrow, sir. Your sister is no worse?”
“Nay. All thanks to your good self. I’m come with a request for poppy juice.”
“My dear sir,” Gryce cut in, bowing. “I am only too happy to oblige.”
Once he had disappeared into the stillroom, Anthony whipped a kerchief from his pocket and proceeded to remove a smudge of grime from Jennet’s cheek.
He fetched her a conspiratorial wink.
“There. Cannot have the old curmudgeon berating you for betraying evidence of his filthy den of a shop!”
Jennet caught a whiff of the pomander he carried on his wrist and smiled.
“Oh, I’ll soon have it straight. I was thinking –”
“Dangerous business, thinking. Injurious to the health. I wonder the old rogue hasn’t concocted a remedy for it!”
The blue eyes twinkled merrily and Jennet suppressed a giggle.
“You shouldn’t mock. The master will be back any minute.”
“In which case I had best come straight to the point.” Anthony gave her the full force of his smile.
“Would you oblige me by taking a walk with me this coming Sunday?
“There’s a copse of elms beyond the house gates. Meet me there. Refuse me and I vow I shall despair!”