Death in the West Wind Read Online Free

not only the family circle but also the busybody grapevine of Topsham. And it had been the Apothecary’s fate, for better or worse, that he had been the one.
    Glancing at his watch, John saw that it was still only half-past five and though there was light in the sky, dawn had not yet broken. Beside him, sweetly serene, Emilia slumbered peacefully, but he was too wide awake to contemplate further sleep. Moving quietly so as not to disturb her, John carefully got out of bed and dressed as best he could in the fitful light. Then opening the bedroom door just enough to slip through, he closed it silently behind him.
    The inn’s servants were already up and at their tasks but despite the tempting smells emanating from the kitchen, the Apothecary decided to have breakfast with his wife and work up an even greater appetite by walking along the riverbank for half an hour. Consequently he wrapped himself in an enveloping cloak, for it was a sharp morning, put his hat on his head and, turning out of the hostelry, made his way to the quays.
    It may have been early but the riverside was already swarming with people. Great ships had come in during the night and now that there was enough light to see, the unloading of their cargoes had begun. Holds stood open and hoists lifted out bundles and barrels and crates which were caught by the brawny-armed dockworkers and carried ashore. In the midst of this activity a coach plied for hire beside a notice reading Topsham to Exeter Return, Runs Twelve Times a Day, One Shilling. Some early travellers were already getting aboard and the Apothecary could not help but glimpse Richard van Guylder, soberly dressed and clearly heading for school before lessons began. However he had not expected to see the beautiful Juliana abroad at this daunting hour. But there she was, being helped into the coach by her brother, clad in a black velvet cloak, pale as a wraith inside its dark folds. Her skin seemed drained, transparent almost, and the expression on her face was so devoid of animation, so lifeless, that she seemed as if she were on the point of death. Judging by her appearance, there could be little doubt that some sort of malaise affected the girl. Desperately concerned for her, John stepped forward. “Miss Juliana, Richard, good morning.” They both jumped and shot him the most guilty of glances and the Apothecary realised that he should have left them alone, that Juliana was probably going to Exeter without her father’s knowledge and the last thing she wanted was to run into someone she knew.
    “Good morning,” Richard answered sullenly, but though her lips moved Juliana did not utter a word.
    John attempted to cover his gaffe. “Just taking the air early, though I must be getting back. My wife will be wondering where I am.” The boy managed a half smile. “Do send her my regards, Sir.”
    The Apothecary decided to do what he had originally intended. Producing a card from an inner pocket he handed it to Juliana. “If you should ever suffer with the headache or any other condition, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I can deal by post and you are probably bored to sobs with all the local apothecaries.”
    She met his eye and a slight flush came into her ashen cheeks, but her words were forceful enough. “If ever I need you I’ll let you know,” she said, and taking the card dropped it into the reticule that hung over her wrist.
    Richard frowned at this but before he could say a word the coachman consulted his watch and called out loudly, “Any more, if you please? We leave punctually in one minute.”
    “Bon voyage,” said John, and raising his hat, bowed a farewell. His last sight of Juliana was looking back at him through the coach’s small rear window, her expression restored to its usual cat-like secrecy, as the carriage moved off to Exeter.

    *   *   *

    “Where shall we go today?” asked Emilia, spreading marmalade upon a thin slice of toast.
    John, who was tackling a