The Apothecary’s Apprentice 20
The Apothecary's Apprentice
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- 1. The Apothecary’s Apprentice 20
“Perhaps I should forego my own ambitions and look for work that pays better,” Jennet said to Thomas one dismal Sunday afternoon.
The July weather that had taken a turn for the worse reflected the general mood.
They sat in a sheltered corner of the spinney, out of earshot of the circle of green-painted wagons.
“You must do no such thing,” Thomas responded. “You are on your right track now. Stepping off it would do you no favours.”
“It would aid the family funds, Thomas.
“Why, I was earning more helping out on the markets than I do now, though the master did speak of raising my wage if I put in an extra hour or two.”
“You already do more than enough. Has aught been said at home about leaving?”
Jennet shook her head.
“There you are. Better take what comes and trust that matters will improve.”
Thomas handed her a mysterious looking cloth-wrapped parcel he had with him.
“I made you this. It might come in useful.”
“This is for me?” Jennet took the item. “What is it?”
“Open it and see, goose!” Thomas replied, smiling.
Jennet pulled off the wrapping and gasped.
It was a simples box similar to her grandmother’s, but better.
Made in a reddish wood and polished to a fine shine, it had brass escutcheons with a key and a leather carrying handle.
Inside, the compartments held small glass bottles and brown jars with cork stoppers. There was even a set of stirring spoons and a little tin-lined copper ladle.
“Thomas, it’s beautiful!” Jennet exclaimed. “Thank you. A simples box of my very own!”
Jennet could not help comparing it with Anthony’s trinkets, pretty enough, but destined to remain hidden in the cedar-wood box under the thatch.
“It is rosewood.” Thomas indicated the unusual grain. “Amos had it with other timbers picked up on his travels and thought I could make use of it.
“The apothecary wares were off the market. Glad you are pleased, Jennet.”
“Pleased?” Jennet’s eyes sparkled. “I cannot thank you enough!”
Overwhelmed, she leaned over and kissed Thomas’s sun-browned cheek.
It was a singularly bright episode in what had been a disappointing day, since Anthony had again not been present at the trysting place.
One day last week Jennet had spotted him in a carriage with a fashionably dressed, dark-haired young woman beside him.
She thought he had seen her and looked away, but hoped she was mistaken.
Unhappily for Jennet, there was more to come.
She arrived home to a stunned silence.
Her grandmother was out, likely tending the victims of the mine disaster, some of whom had suffered burns that were stubborn to heal.
In the bed in the corner her father slept a drugged sleep. A phial of poppy juice by his bedside told its own story.
There were traces of tears on her mother’s cheeks.
Jennet, sensing she was not going to like what was to come, clutched the simples box to her as if to draw strength from it.
“What is it? Is it Father?”
Her mother took a quivering breath.
“No, not that. Master Venables sent his bailiff. He brought ill tidings. The restoration of the mine is almost done.
“The workings are due to open again and this cottage is wanted for the new foreman. We have been given notice to quit.”
The words fell like doom on Jennet’s ears.
“You are saying we have to leave? Where would we go?”
Alice spread her hands in a gesture of defeat.
“Heaven only knows.” She shot a glance at the slumbering figure in the bed.
“Jennet, your father is an invalid and your grandmother is more frail than she will admit. I fear this trouble has told on her sorely.
“It falls to us to find some solution. What, I cannot think. We are destitute!”