Read Online Death at the Wedding Feast by Deryn Lake - Free Book Online Page A

peace with my sons.’
    â€˜Any ideas on names?’ asked John from the doorway.
    â€˜I thought perhaps Jasper and James. Do you like those?’
    The Apothecary repeated them under his breath, looked at the two tiny boys, then said, ‘I can’t think of anything nicer.’
    Lady Sidmouth would not hear of him going back to Elizabeth’s mansion that night, and so he not only was invited to dine with them but offered a small guest room into the bargain. He had wanted to see Elizabeth again but was told that she slept once more, but he was allowed another quick peek at his sons before they were put down for the night.
    Observing them closely he noticed that even at this early age they were totally the same. Both dark-haired, their eyes still baby-blue, they nonetheless had noses that were destined to be strong and lips that were going to be passionate. At least that is what John told himself fondly as he observed their tiny little hands, kissed their minute feet and tickled them under their wobbly infant chins. So he was in the first throes of delightful fatherhood as he made his way downstairs, only to be halted by the sound of muffled giggling. He turned to see who it was and cast his eyes on two young women he had met before, namely Lady Sidmouth’s daughter Felicity and her cousin, Miranda Tremayne. Knowing that he was the object of their derision, presumably because of the hideous colour of his clothes, John gave them a florid bow.
    â€˜Good evening, ladies. I trust I find you well.’
    They bobbed brief curtsies that suggested he was hardly worth the courtesy. Then Miranda spoke.
    â€˜Good evening, Mr Rawlings. I have remembered the name correctly, have I not? La, what a flutter with the house full of babies. How do you like your little bast— I mean your sons?’
    â€˜I like them very well,’ John answered evenly.
    Miranda continued, ‘We were saying how well Lady Elizabeth looks despite her ordeal. We think it is nothing short of a miracle at her age.’
    She had made this kind of remark once before, at Lady Sidmouth’s summer ball to be precise, and John felt his fury grow. ‘Elizabeth is a remarkable woman,’ he said, ‘and has been through many ordeals to become the person she is today.’
    There was another muffled giggle and he realized that his answer could have been taken two ways.
    â€˜But one thing,’ he continued firmly, ‘that one could never say about the Marchesa is that she is shallow. She is like steel compared with many of the drooping lilies that one sees around one. Would you not agree?’
    There was silence, then Felicity said, ‘Shall we go down to dinner?’
    â€˜After you, ladies,’ said John, and felt that he had just won that round.
    During the night he was awoken by the sound of crying, and for a moment thought he had gone back in time and that it was Rose who wanted him. Then he came to his senses and was just about to get out of bed when he heard footsteps in the corridor and realized that maids had already picked the infants up and were at this very moment carrying them in to their mother. He thought of Elizabeth being woken up by two hungry boys and decided that as soon as she was on her own he would creep into her room and tell her how much he loved her.
    He lay awake listening for the sound of the maids returning the boys to the nursery. Eventually he heard them, then the house grew silent and still once more. Softly John got out of bed and walked across the corridor to where Elizabeth lay sleeping. Her black hair was spread across the pillow like a fantastic web, shot with silver where the moon peeped in through the vents in the curtains. Walking quietly, John went to the window and drew them apart a little. Far below him the sea churned and leapt, and the Apothecary spared a thought for the many poor devils spending the night on the treacherous waves. Then he pulled the curtains closed and