Free Death on the Romney Marsh by Deryn Lake Page B

stared into the fire. Then John said, ‘Is there anyone else, Mrs Rose? Anyone whose circle you touch?’
    She looked at him, suddenly very straight-faced. ‘Why? Are you thinking that from amongst them must come the person who is trying to kill me?’
    John nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid I am.’
    She shuddered. ‘But what connection could any of them have with the past?’
    â€˜As you said yourself, it could be a random thing. The merest coincidence that one of them knew Jasper or …’
    â€˜There’s no need to say it. Very well, I’ll conclude the list. There is Dr Hayman, who attended me when I was ill. He is new to Winchelsea, his predecessor, old Dr Trumble, having fallen off a wagon and broken his neck while under the influence. I’m afraid I know little about him, except that he seems very good at what he does. There is also an apothecary, a Mr Gironde. He makes up various potions for me but I hardly know him socially. His wife asked me to call on her once but I found her inquisitive and intrusive and did not go again. Of course, several other well-to-do people live here but they are merely nodding acquaintances whom I glimpse on Sunday mornings in church.’
    â€˜So if I am right and the poisoner is somebody you know, is it your belief that your enemy must be one of the people you’ve just described?’
    Elizabeth’s beautiful eyes filled with tears. ‘Loath though I am to say it, the answer has to be yes.’
    The Apothecary shook his head. ‘It is all very strange.’ He gave a sudden grin. ‘Everything seems shrouded in mystery except for one thing.’
    â€˜And what is that?’
    â€˜Whoever left this bottle of wine for you had your best interests at heart.’
    â€˜What are you saying?’
    â€˜I’d stake my reputation that there is not a drop of poison in it. I’ve been drinking it consistently for the last hour and can feel nothing except the onset of extreme joviality. In short, it is one of the best home brews I ever tasted and I would very much like to find out who made it so that I can ask them for more.’
    Elizabeth gave him a horrified glance which slowly but surely began to melt as the Apothecary smiled at her. Eventually she smiled too.
    â€˜Mr Rawlings, what a risk you took in drinking that. But what you have to say is a great relief to me. It is nice to know that at least one of my neighbours wishes me no ill.’
    John stood up and offered her his arm as the maid called from the kitchen that dinner was ready.
    â€˜My dear Madam, take my word. If there is any who does, I will seek him out.’
    And with that assurance he led Elizabeth Rose, once Harcross, in to dine.

Chapter Five
    It was evening by the time the Apothecary left Petronilla’s Platt and made his way back to The Salutation, a snatch of song on his lips, his gait slightly nautical. His inspection of the labels attached to the anonymous gifts received by Mrs Rose had proved fruitless. Both had been written in different hands. None the less, John had slipped them into his pocket for further investigation in the clear light of day. That done, he had lingered over the port, which a laughing Mrs Rose had seemed only too happy to pour out, begging him to stay for the entire evening. John had thought then what a sad and lonely life she led and what a tragedy that so great a celebrity as Elizabeth had once been should be reduced to such solitary circumstances.
    â€˜Next time you come to London,’ he had said impulsively, ‘you must call on my father. I know he would be delighted to see you.’
    Mrs Rose had smiled gently. ‘Dear Sir Gabriel. It would be so good to renew my acquaintance with him. But alas I rarely travel to town. My last foray was simply to try and find you, Mr Rawlings. The place holds too many memories for me to be comfortable there.’
    â€˜You really must try to shed the past, Mrs