Death in the Setting Sun by Deryn Lake Page B

and sat close to the fire, thinking. It was not only Emilia who had been murdered but his unborn child as well. But that his wife, that innocent woman, should have been struck down at all was almost too much even to contemplate. Yet it had come as no shock to Priscilla who, apparently, had several secrets in her past which could have led to her being killed.
    She must bear witness for me, the Apothecary thought. Then, quite suddenly, he realised how his case must look to others. He had been caught red-handed, actually holding the knife with which Emilia had been slain. Small wonder that Lady Theydon, that unpleasant woman, had accused him of murder. His hopes of clearing his name were pinned on the fact that Priscilla would vouch for him to Sir John Fielding.
    The coachman came back in and paid the bill with John’s money.
    “We’d best be getting along, Sir. I won’t rest easy until I deliver you to Sir Gabriel.”
    John went to stand up but once again his legs buckled and it was left to Irish Tom to ferry him to his coach. As they left the inn the Apothecary was more than aware of the curious stare of the maid who actually followed them to the front door to have a final look.

    As luck would have it, Sir Gabriel Kent was just stepping forth from his house in Church Lane as John’s equipage rolled up. This day, almost as if he had had a premonition, he was dressed all in black, only the white frills of his shirt relieving the gloom. His smile of welcome changed dramatically as he saw the state of John Rawlings, creeping out of the coach, pale-faced and puffy-eyed.
    “My dear child, whatever has befallen you?” he called out. Then he hurried forward to assist Irish Tom bring John indoors.
    There, the sheer relief of being with his father caused the Apothecary to weep once more and it was left to the coachman to explain the circumstances of John’s sudden reappearance. He had never seen Sir Gabriel grow pale before, John thought, but now he saw his father’s skin become like parchment and his golden eyes fill with tears. It was a sobering sight, but after application of his handkerchief, Sir Gabriel became extremely business-like.
    “Now, my lad,” he said firmly, “the first thing you must do is go and have a rest. Then, tomorrow morning early, you must head for town and deliver yourself to Sir John Fielding. You will receive the best treatment possible at the great man’s hands.”
    “But Father,” John replied wearily, so exhausted with weeping that he could hardly concentrate, “I must get Priscilla to come with me.”
    “Then write her a short note which I will take with me when I go to see Princess Amelia.”
    “But why … ?”
    “My son, somebody must bring Emilia’s body back for burial. No doubt the Coroner will have been informed this morning but I am sure he will release her as soon as possible. She must be buried here in Kensington where you and I can tend the grave.”
    “Oh God’s life,” John answered wearily, “to think of Rose without a mother.”
    “Rose must be brought here to live with me for the time being. Until this confusion has been sorted out.”
    “Father,” said John seriously, “do you think Sir John will hold me in custody?”
    “I think, my son,” Sir Gabriel answered with equal severity, “he might have no choice but to do so.”
    “Then my future looks bleak.”
    “Until Miss Priscilla speaks up, yes. Now scrawl a note to her do. I must leave within the hour if I am to make Gunnersbury House before nightfall.”
    A quarter of an hour later it was done and John was climbing the stairs to his bedroom. He found a shawl of Emilia’s lying on the bed and when he picked it up to hold to his cheek he could smell her perfume still on it. Cradling it in his arms as if it were her, he lay down on the bed. But sleep would not come as over and over in his brain he ran the events of the previous evening. Eventually he got up and wandered downstairs where he found the house