Deryn Lake: Death at the Wedding Feast

‘Goodnight, Madam,’ he answered, and bowed his way out.

The last piece of the puzzle had just slipped into place. The Apothecary closed his eyes and let the carriage take him home.

He rose early the next morning and went to say farewell to his twin sons. Jasper and James smiled and made happy sounds as he walked into the nursery and it came home to him in all its bitterness how evil a crime it was for a grandson to strike down his own grandparent. For that which had given life to be struck down by the very life it had helped to create. At that moment the Apothecary felt that he was tasting a bitter gall and had to hold back tears, not only for himself but for all who had been so terribly affected by the deaths at the wedding feast.

His trunk had been taken to the carriage as day broke and now there was nothing left for him to do but say goodbye to Elizabeth. But she slept deeply, as heavily as if she had been drugged, and did not stir when he kissed her and murmured his parting words. A madness came upon him then and he walked away from her, down the stairs and out of the front door with never a backward glance. And it wasn’t until he was on the flying coach fast bound for London that he realized he had treated her as badly as Maurice Beauvoir had his grandfather, the Earl of St Austell.

A mood of terrible introspection came upon him then, and did not leave him until he was dropped at the Gloucester Coffee House and felt the cobbles of the capital beneath his feet once more. There some of his confidence returned and he decided that somehow he would be able to persuade Elizabeth to give up their boys for at least part of the year. For despite all his adventures and all his passion for investigating criminal misdeeds, John Rawlings was at heart a family man who liked nothing better than having his children around him in a comfortable dwelling.

His house at Number Two, Nassau Street was quiet when he entered it and he called out, ‘Is anybody home?’

In answer he heard a door upstairs open, and looking up he saw a young lady descending at a dignified pace to greet him. He could not believe his eyes. The school had certainly done all that was required of it. His daughter Rose had an elegance and grace he would not have believed possible. Then her eyes widened and she spoilt the illusion by jumping the last few stairs and straight into his arms.

‘Pappy, oh my dear Papa. You have come back at last.’

‘Back to my own best girl.’ He paused. ‘Why are you not at school?’

‘I am on holiday, Sir, and Grandfather and I thought we would come to town to pursue cultural events.’

John’s spirits were rising by the minute.

‘And where is the redoubtable gentleman?’

‘Here, my son, here.’

And with a snatch of powder and a whiff of scent that most famous of all the beaux in London came slowly into the hall from the library.

‘Damme, but it’s good to see you, John.’

‘And damn me, Sir, if it isn’t good to be back.’

And with that the trio kissed one another and made their way into the garden.