Read Online The Apothecary's Daughter by Charlotte Betts - Free Book Online

Martha’s baby would come very soon and she was overcome with remorse. It had been two months since
     she and her friend had parted with the air as cool as frost between them. Supposing all did not go well with her? She would
     never forgive herself if Martha didn’t survive the birth and they had not made their peace. She would go this very day to
     visit her friend.
    She spent the morning baking biscuits and then put them in her basket with a bottle of Leyton’s Cordial for Martha’s children.
     As an afterthought she went into the yard and picked a handful of thyme from the pot by the door, dusted off the soot and
     tied it up in a thread. She wished that she could make a proper herb garden but nothing thrived in the sour earth of the yard.
     Returning to the kitchen she found Harriet rooting through her basket.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘Nothing!’ Harriet stared at her defiantly.
    ‘You’ve been eating my biscuits!’
    ‘Haven’t!’
    ‘Don’t lie to me, Harriet! There are crumbs all around your mouth.’ Susannah was beginning to dislike the child for her mean
     and petty ways.
    Harriet stuck out her tongue and flounced out of the kitchen.
    Susannah sighed. At least she wouldn’t be burdened with her presence while she visited her friend. She let herself out of
     the shop door and set off down Fleet Street with all haste before Arabella caught her and insisted she take the boys.
    The streets were strangely quiet. Each time she went out Susannah noticed that there were fewer and fewer people. Far from
     being jostled and harried by the press of the crowd as she had been used to all her life, it was possible to walk along with
     space and air around her. Strangers took care to cross the street when they saw each other coming and each day she saw carriages
     and cartloads of furniture trundling away towards the west, journeying to the country. In the past month it had become almost
     impossible to hire a horse since so many had been bought by the wealthy, desperate to escape from a city where plague haunted
     the streets.
    Near St Bride’s Susannah passed two houses which had been shut up, red crosses painted on their doors above the words
Lord Have Mercy Upon Us
. The red paint dripped down from the crudely painted letters just as if it were blood. One house was silent but in the other
     a woman screamed; a high thin wail of terror that went on and on. The sound bored into Susannah’s ears like a spike and she
     began to run as fast as she could to escape from her own fear. Her family had been lucky so far but who could tell who would
     be the next to sicken?
    She reached Martha’s familiar door and hammered on the knocker. After what seemed like a long time she heard the bolts scrape
     back and Martha’s servant let her in. She followed the girl to the parlour, where Martha was teaching three of her children
     their catechism. She looked up and Susannah’s heart froze for a second when she thought she hadn’t been forgiven but then
     Martha smiled.
    ‘Sit down. You are very welcome. Bessie, will you bring us a jug of ale?’
    Susannah couldn’t wait any longer to make her peace. ‘I’m sorry. I know you were only trying to help me.’
    ‘We both said what we thought was right.’
    Susannah rummaged in her basket. ‘For the children,’ she said,putting the remainder of the biscuits and the bottle of cordial on the table. ‘It’s to ward off the pestilence.’
    Martha sent the children to play outside. ‘I shall be glad of your medicine,’ she said, her eyes shadowed with sadness. ‘We
     are mourning my neighbour’s family. They were shut up on the Thursday and by the Sunday they had all perished. The cart came
     for them during the night.’
    A prickle of fear ran down Susannah’s back. ‘Our fishmonger has gone, too. I try not to dwell on the risk of infection except
     in so far as we are very careful not to stand too close to our customers for fear of it.’
    ‘It’s a terrible