Free Death in the Setting Sun by Deryn Lake

to acting. She’s beautiful all right but not born for the stage. Priscilla was originally going to give her the character which your dear wife played. But Georgiana was not very good, so Emilia came in to help out.”
    “And thoroughly enjoyed herself,” John added with a smile.
    Lady Georgiana was looking round the room and gave a slight curtsey in the direction of the Apothecary and the actor. Then her face changed, becoming still and closed. Slowly, moving elegantly, she joined a tall, thin man, magnificently dressed and bewigged, who bowed before her then kissed her hand. John could not help but notice how stiffly she withdrew it from the embrace.
    Princess Amelia and her ladies came back in, still moving in their regimented lines, John was amused to observe. However, they instantly broke ranks and went to join the various people with whom they were acquainted, the Princess hurrying to the side of the Prince of Mecklenburg. It occurred to the Apothecary that maybe there was something between them, this idea enhanced by the way the Prince kissed the lady’s hand.
    Then there was a buzz in the doorway as Priscilla herself came in. She looked attractive but for all that the poor thing seemed frozen with cold. A fact which made her features set and somewhat hard-looking. However, having gone to the Princess first and received a royal kiss, she made her way to where John stood with Michael.
    “Oh, my dear Mr. Rawlings,” she said. “I saw you in the audience. I was so glad you managed to get through. I thought this terrible weather might have made the ways too foul to be negotiable.”
    John took her hand. It was like ice. “No, my dear Madam, I managed in two stages. I thought the performance went very well incidentally.”
    “Then that is all that matters,” she answered gaily. She turned to the Irishman. “You did well, Sir.”
    “Thank you, dear lady. I could say the same for you.” She took a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “Well, it’s over and done, thank God.” She turned to John. “Now we can get on with normal life again.”
    “Yes. Where is Emilia by the way?”
    “I can’t think what’s keeping her. The last I saw of her she was in the room set aside for changing. She said she wouldn’t be long.”
    Every protective instinct in the Apothecary rose. He thought of his wife, fourteen weeks pregnant, suddenly feeling faint, on her own and helpless.
    “I think I’ll go and look for her,” he said. “If you could direct me to the changing-room.”
    Priscilla turned on him a wonderful smile. “It’s at the bottom of the grand stairs on the left. There are two rooms actually, one was occupied by the children.”
    “Thank you.” John bowed to the other two. “Excuse me.
    He hurried down the beautiful staircase and came to the room, full of abandoned costumes, obviously removed in a hurry as everybody hastened to the party. “Emilia,” he called.
    There was no reply. Fearing she might have lost consciousness, the Apothecary searched the place, even going so far as to lift piles of clothes to look beneath. There was no sign of his wife. He hurried into the other room but, yet again, the search proved fruitless. Now the first signs of panic assailed him and he went back into the hall, uncertain as to what he should do next.
    The great front door was closed but John knew that if Emilia had felt unwell she might well have stepped outside to get some air. With hands that shook very slightly, he pulled the door ajar.
    Outside the sun had nearly set, turning the snow the colour of blood. In the distance the dark trees beckoned in a formidable group, their branches glistening white in the dusk. John’s heart began to race and he called, “Emilia,” once more. There was no reply and suddenly the Apothecary knew that something was wrong. He hurried down the steps, icy now in the gloaming, and towards the trees.
    And then he saw it. There in the snow, her red cloak spread out round her, was