Deryn Lake: Death at the Wedding Feast

‘Surely that is a little overgenerous, Sir.’

‘A little, perhaps. But I believe the lad has potential and I want you to encourage that if possible.’

‘I shall do as you ask, Mr Rawlings.’

‘And I,’ chimed in Jacquetta, ‘shall launch your business with some attack, I promise you.’

‘Then,’ said John, hastily swallowing a pickled herring, ‘I shall go away content.’

It was his intention to get a flying coach to Devon. These were faster and more comfortable than the stage but cost a good deal more. However, money was not the point at issue, it was the fact of actually obtaining a place in one. The system was to get four passengers to share the cost, but if only three persons were interested then the fare would automatically rise. John’s fear that the places would already be taken was allayed by the fact that two postilions were standing by a rather highly polished vehicle drawn up by a sign which read, ‘The Exeter Fast Coach for the Safe and Reliable Conveyance of Passengers. Fare 5d a mile. Two stops for Dining. Horses changed regular.’ The cost was exorbitant but time was of the essence. Bidding farewell to Irish Tom, John booked himself a place and got inside.

Staring out of the window he thought back to the last time he had made this journey, that time travelling on the public stage, and all the terrible events which had followed. But he threw off the memories. He was going to Devon to await the birth of his second child and see Elizabeth through what would undoubtedly be a difficult experience for a woman of her age. John set his jaw, then was immediately diverted by the entrance of a pretty woman of about thirty-five. She smiled, bowed her head in acknowledgement and went to sit at the back. But a few moments later she gave up her seat when a bashful young man, hand-in-hand with an equally bashful girl, entered and enquired if this was the post chaise to Exeter. They were so obviously madly in love and probably newly married as the female had not a chaperone in sight, that to have kept them apart would have been cruel beyond belief.

‘Do take my seat,’ she said to the man, who bowed then banged his head on the coach’s ceiling. She moved over to John, with a great deal of clambering. ‘May I sit next to you, Sir?’

‘It will be my pleasure,’ he answered politely.

As she sat down one of the postilions put his head through the window. ‘Well, we’ve a full complement, ladies and gents, so we’ll be off. Ready, Rob?’

‘Aye.’

It was a four-horse team pulling a fairly light weight, and so they made good time, especially as the coach was built to literally fly across the countryside, its high back wheels eating up the miles. A glance behind him told the Apothecary that the young couple were locked in a deep embrace, while the woman sitting beside him was reading a novel as best she could with the jolting and swaying. He closed his eyes and when he woke up it was to find that they had covered the thirty miles or so between the Gloucester Coffee House and Bagshot and were briefly stopping to change the horses.

He bowed his head to his fellow passenger. ‘I’m so sorry, I indulged in a little snooze. I hope my snoring did not keep you awake.’

She laughed. ‘It was a light, pleasant buzz. Allow me to be so forward as to introduce myself. I am Lettice James, a resident of Exeter where my husband is employed as a merchant.’

‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Ma’am. I am John Rawlings, an apothecary of Shug Lane, Piccadilly, London.’

‘And what are you doing travelling to Exeter, Mr Rawlings, if I may make so bold?’

John felt he could hardly say that he was travelling to see his mistress who was about to give birth to their child, so muttered something about visiting friends.

Mrs James nodded. ‘Anyone I might know? I am quite a socialite in my quiet way.’

The Apothecary felt truly uncomfortable and could think of no answer except the truth. ‘Lady Elizabeth di Lorenzi — or the Marchesa if you prefer it.’

‘I don’t really. I prefer English titles. Lady Elizabeth, now let me see. She has not been seen at any social events for the last…’ She ticked them off on her fingers. ‘… five months or so. Tell me, is she unwell? Are you visiting her in a professional capacity?’

John hesitated, wondering what to reply. Eventually he said, ‘No, just as a friend.’

‘Then you will know the reason why she has been absent, surely.’

The Apothecary stared into her face and realized that she was not as attractive as he had first thought. There was a certain hardness about her eyebrows and her lips were thinner than they had initially appeared. He mentally put her down as Exeter’s queen of gossip.

‘I think she has been busy with her numerous business interests,’ he answered.

‘Business interests?’ said Mrs James, all aflutter at some juicy piece of new information.

‘Indeed. Her late husband, you know. He left her vast estates in Italy and many and varied companies. Export and import. Wine, lace — you know the sort of thing.’ He waved a hand vaguely.

‘Really?’ Lettice’s eyes were round with delight at learning some new facts. ‘I had not realized that the Lady Elizabeth is a business woman.’

‘Oh yes,’ answered John expansively, ‘she also travels a great deal. Did you not know that?’

Lettice lowered her eyes. ‘Well, yes. Of course. But Lady Elizabeth is very discreet. She does not boast of her dealings.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Has she been abroad recently?’

‘I believe so,’ John answered vaguely. ‘But I am not privy to all her movements.’

‘Well, do send her my very best wishes and my earnest hope that she will be gracing our little social gatherings once more.’

‘I will certainly pass on your kind thoughts. And now if you will excuse me I shall take a breath of air.’

He hurried out of the coach and went to the boghouse, conveniently situated beside the inn, only to find Lettice James waiting outside. She blushed and passed within while John returned to the conveyance, only to see the young couple still locked in an embrace. Thinking about the first flush of youth, John took his seat and with the return of the Exeter gossip they were off once more.

The route taken by the flying coach was not the usual one. In order to speed things up, the carriage passed through Bagshot, then on to Basingstoke and a great push through to Salisbury, where they stopped overnight and had a late dinner.

John found himself seated at a large trencher table with another two loads of passengers, recently arrived. Lettice, whom he had rather come to mistrust, was sitting some distance away. As for the young couple, they bolted their food and then retired upstairs, accompanied by a good deal of giggling. John could only hope that they did not have a creaking bed or those within earshot would have a disturbed night of it.

The next morning saw them leave Salisbury at seven o’clock. Lettice looked tired and yawned greatly, whispering to John that, just as he had thought, she had had a room next door to the honeymooners and as a result had had hardly a wink of sleep. The young people themselves, appearing much the worse for wear, climbed on to the back seat and instantly fell asleep. John, who had been forced to share a room with a nifty little tailor from Woodyeats, who slept silently as a cat which he rather resembled, felt in fine fettle. Fortunately for him the inquisitive Mrs James dozed off at once and so the Apothecary, with a great stirring of his heart which he always felt in the beautiful countryside through which he was now passing, was free to gaze through the large front window at the scenery.

They stopped once more at Dorchester, where they dined, and then pushed on through Honiton to Exeter where they arrived as the dusk of evening was just casting a shadow over the land. John, as courtesy demanded, saw Mrs James into a waiting hackney carriage, doffed his hat to the two youngsters who were plunging into The Half Moon with alacrity, and turned in the direction of the livery stables that he had used before.