Sleepless in Southampton by Chasity Bowlin

Chapter Seven

The interior of the apothecary shop was quite dim and dreary. Located below street level in what had once been the kitchen of a terrace house, the door was so short that the viscount had to duck his head entirely and bend at the waist in order to enter. Inside, it was a bit roomier, but not by much. The ceiling was still so close that he was forced to dip his head. It had the effect of making her feel surrounded by him. It was not an unpleasant sensation and that was the most terrifying part of it. His nearness, the way he towered over her, the breadth of his shoulders—it made her feel safe and protected. It also made her very aware of all the mysterious ways in which they were different. It piqued her curiosity and left her feeling flushed and warm in a way she didn’t quite understand.

For her own peace of mind, Sophie forced herself to pay more attention to her surroundings than her companion. Surveying the shop, she made note of all the various tools of the trade that were evident. There were bundles of herbs and flowers hanging from the rafters of the ceiling, drying for use in future concoctions. Glass bottles of various sizes and tools of unidentifiable origins and usefulness littered every surface. But along one wall was a glass-fronted cabinet laden with cures. Bottles upon bottles of tonics, elixirs, purgatives, poultices and tinctures lined those shelves, each one carefully labeled.

“Hello!” The cheerful greeting came from the back of the shop, one of the rabbit warren of rooms from the shop’s former use as a kitchen.

“Hello. We have need of your services, sir,” Viscount Marchwood called out.

“Right! If you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be here!” the man called out again, then laughed. In fact, he chortled all the way down the long, skinny corridor until he stepped into the light from the shop’s small front window. “How can I help you?”

Sophie removed the bottle from her pocket. “Would you be able to identify any of the ingredients in this?”

The little man accepted the proffered bottle, tipping his head back and peering at the label through his spectacles. “I might be able to tell you some of the ingredients, but I could not identify all of them. My concern, young lady, is why you wish to know?”

“It’s been given to a friend of mine,” Sophie answered. “But I am worried about the contents.”

The man pulled the stopper from the bottle and gave it a whiff. He made a terrible face. “And well you should be. You, sir, flip the sign to closed and lock that door.”

If Viscount Marchwood took exception to being ordered about by a tradesman, he didn’t indicate it at all. Instead, he did as instructed and then returned to Sophie’s side.

“Come this way,” the apothecary said. “My workroom is back here.”

Following him along the narrow corridor, it dawned on Sophie that they’d chosen the man at random. He might have a relationship with Dr. Blake. He could be a villain, as well, for all that they knew.

“Do you know Dr. Blake, sir?” Sophie asked.

“Who?”

“Dr. Blake,” Sophie stated. “He’s the physician who prepared that elixir for my friend.”

“Ah,” the apothecary said. “Not much of a physician, is he?”

“I’m not sure I take your meaning, sir,” Sophie answered.

“What I mean, Miss, is this physician, best as I can tell, is poisoning your friend. That or turning her into one of those hollow-eyed souls that chase the dragon,” the apothecary answered, a note of bitterness in his voice.

Sophie was still frowning as he stepped through a doorway into a larger room, this one more brightly lit from the candles all about it. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what that means.”

“Opium, Sophie,” Viscount Marchwood stated. “Chasing the dragon is a term applied to those who are addicted to opium.”

Sophie glanced back at the bottle in horror, almost as if it might reach out and bite them. “Oh, but… well, she does have terrible megrims. Perhaps he truly intends it to ease her pain?”

“Not likely. There’s a bit of henbane in here, as well,” the apothecary said. “Thought I smelled it. All this concoction will do is make the girl’s head ache worse than it already does, make her feel weak and tired and still have her reaching for this bottle because she’ll crave what else is in it. Lots of physicians and apothecaries have no issue in prescribing laudanum, or it’s stronger parent—opium—to their patients. I find it often does more harm than good. Unless the person is at death’s door and unlikely to recover, I’ll not give such a substance.”

“You were quite right, Sophie. It seems that Dr. Blake does mean to make his patients dependent upon him,” the viscount said. “But he means to use far more than his handsome face to do so. Come, we must go.”

“Might I keep this?” the apothecary asked. “There are other ingredients that I might identify with time to do some tests.”

“Yes, sir,” the viscount said. “Keep it.”

“Wait,” Sophie said. “Is it safe for our friend to stop taking opium immediately? Will it not make her terribly ill?”

“It will, Miss,” the apothecary said. “But with the other ingredients in this bottle, I don’t know that she could tell the difference.”

“Then transfer those contents to another bottle and refill that one with a harmless substance. We shall replace the bottle in the cook’s cupboard with it and we shall begin weaning Philippa off his concoction with no one the wiser… not even her,” the viscount stated.

The apothecary gave him a wink and a nod. “Quite right. Let the devil hang himself.”

*

An hour later,they were being shown into the drawing room at Lady Hemsley’s. Henry was still reeling. What he’d discovered that day, both about Dr. Blake and his wicked intentions, as well as Sophie Upchurch and her uncanny criminal mind, had left him feeling entirely out of his depth.

“Good afternoon, Lady Hemsley,” he said.

“Good afternoon, Marchwood,” Lady Hemsley replied. She was giving Miss Upchurch a thorough once over, her gaze traveling over the girl in a way that could only be called insolent. “You do not look very much like a companion, Miss…?”

“Upchurch. Miss Sophia Upchurch. I wasn’t aware that companions looked any way at all, Lady Hemsley,” Miss Upchurch replied.

Lady Hemsley let out a harumph, though it was clear she was amused. “Old Bess would have enjoyed you! Oh, not openly. She’d have complained and groused as she was wont to do but, secretly, she’d have liked that you had a bit of spirit about you.”

“Old Bess?” Henry asked.

“Lady Elizabeth Parkhurst. Or, if you’d known her for as long as I did, Old Bess,” Lady Hemsley said. “She wasn’t always old. Neither was I for that matter. Once upon a time, young man, we were bold and scandalous women.” That statement was accompanied with a wink and a grin.

That was a terrifying thought and one he felt compelled to avoid further acquaintance with. “We have information about Dr. Blake, Lady Hemsley.”

The woman eyed him speculatively for a moment. Then she waved all her servants away. “What do you know about that charlatan?”

“He’s prescribing laudanum without telling his patients they are taking it. In fact, his elixirs are little better than poisons that also happen to be addictive in nature,” Henry stated.

“I knew it,” Lady Hemsley said triumphantly. “Bess changed, you see. Her personality, her energy—everything that made her who she was became muted or dulled after she began to see him. But she refused to hear a negative word about him. And I do not need to tell you, Viscount Marchwood, that for Bess to refuse to gossip about anyone was truly a rare occurrence!”

“We will defer to your knowledge of Lady Parkhurst’s nature and character as my own acquaintance with her was so very limited,” Miss Upchurch offered diplomatically.

Lady Hemsley laughed softly. “Oh, yes. You’d have led her on a merry chase. But we’re not here for that, are we? Let me tell you what I’ve heard about the good doctor. He’s deeply in debt and looking for a way out of it.”

“A wife,” Henry surmised.

“Indeed. One with access to significant wealth and powerful connections… I find it quite telling that he was most insistent upon Bess making a recommendation to the Duke of Thornhill that he should be sought after to treat the duke’s ailing daughter.”

“If that is true, then perhaps he chose to permanently silence Lady Parkhurst so there would be no one to bear witness to the fact that the recommendation occurred at his behest,” Miss Upchurch suggested.

Lady Hemsley’s eyes gleamed. “You are a smart girl! Quite right. He’s forever moving up a step in terms of how influential or prestigious his patients are. Oddly enough, most of his patients are also women. He is a man who is very certain of his appeal to the opposite sex. Do you not think, Miss Upchurch?”

“I think him handsome and I think him well aware of it, Lady Hemsley. I believe that he does trade upon his good looks in order to sway his patients to compliance.”

Lady Hemsley nodded. “You are an excellent judge of character, it seems, for you have read him quite clearly. He treats many matrons of local society for their various ailments. Because he is handsome and charming, they all presume him incapable of wickedness. I know better! And because he is giving them all laudanum, they have all sworn by his remedies. Well, naturally, they feel better when taking whatever tincture he’s provided! Or rather, they do if they serve no other purpose for him. So you must be careful to whom you say anything about him. It will get back to him, you see? They all want to curry favor with him and will inform him of your plots against him for their own gain! Do not act until you have proof of what he’s about.”

“What sort of proof?” Miss Upchurch asked.

“I will start with the moneylenders,” Henry stated. “If he has markers, I can buy them up. That will give us leverage.”

“What sorts of debt has he incurred?” Miss Upchurch asked. “Is he gambling?”

“I do not know, my dear girl, but I do know he is living well beyond the means of a simple physician. Bespoke clothing from the finest tailors around. Boots that would rival Hobie. And he has a carriage that is quite fine. Not to mention that house of his. End of the terrace and four windows across the front. It would cost more in a month than he earns in several years to lease such a residence,” Lady Hemsley explained. “There’s no connection to any sort of family money that I’ve been able to discern. Which leaves only credit.”

“He lives quite high then,” Henry mused.

“Indeed. He’s often seen at the racecourse, though I do not believe he is betting. I think he simply likes to see and be seen,” Lady Hemsley said. “Start with the moneylenders, Marchwood, as you said. That is a most excellent notion. Now, I may not look it, but I am quite old and quite tired. You may disagree with me on both counts, but not strenuously.”

Henry couldn’t stop a grin. “Indeed, Madam, you appear to be the picture of vitality.”

“Well enough, young man. The two of you run along and begin your investigation. I am quite intrigued to see all of this play out. And for once, I intend to keep my mouth shut and not go blathering what I know to the masses,” Lady Hemsley stated. “Good day to you both.”

Dismissed, Henry escorted Miss Upchurch from Lady Hemsley’s home. Once outside, he asked her, “How did you know that about Dr. Blake? How did you so easily identify his character?”

Miss Upchurch shrugged. “Effie—Miss Darrow—has always encouraged us to follow our instincts about whether or not a person meant us harm… if they were trustworthy or not. And I found him questionable from the first.”

Henry nodded. “And yet when we met, I was lying to you about my name… still you trusted me. Perhaps because instinctively you knew then, as now, that I would never mean to harm you.” With that bit of logic, he’d pinned her. Standing there on the street, watching as she tried to formulate some response to it, he simply waited.

After a long moment of silence, she said, “You may not have intended harm. But, you have to see that it changes things. You said you wished to determine whether or not you wanted to court me… but I am not the sort of woman a man in your position should court. I know how attachments for people in your position work. Marrying for love alone is the only luxury the poor possess.”

“Not every peer must marry for wealth or position. I don’t need further wealth and my position in society is something I could not care less about! I am currently jumping for joy that my aunt might present my uncle with an heir and I will not have the dukedom hanging over my head. I don’t want any of it, Miss Upchurch. I want to live a simple life on my country estate, hopefully with a wife who likes me for who I am… who might even love me a little as I hope to love her. Is that so very wrong?”

She didn’t answer the question. Instead, she glanced up at the sky which had filled suddenly with clouds that mirrored her own troubled gaze. “We should return home. It will begin raining soon.”

Henry didn’t lose heart. He took her lack of an answer as a good sign instead. She would come around. He was certain of it.