Death in the West Wind by Deryn Lake

other end he would know about it.”
    “Most certainly, Sir.”
    “I must have a word with him.”
    This information was useful but about Richard there was absolutely none. He had left the house for school early on Monday, behaving quite normally, and not a word had been heard of him since. With a growing sense of unease, John went back into the drawing room to find that the Dutchman was reacting to the infusion and quietening down at last.
    It was gone three o’clock and John drew van Guylder’s manservant to one side.
    “I must return to Sidmouth. I have left my wife alone all day and it simply isn’t fair on her to be away a moment longer. As soon as I have quit the house I want you to send for your master’s physician. Tell him all that has taken place and ask him to call. I will leave a note for him about the physick already prescribed.”
    “Will you return tomorrow, Sir?”
    “I don’t know yet. It depends on what is happening at the other end. The constable took Miss Juliana’s body to Exeter mortuary this morning and soon somebody must identify it.”
    “Oh pray God it doesn’t have to be the master.”
    “It more than likely will be,” John answered. “If so, I will escort Mr. van Guylder, that is provided Master Richard doesn’t turn up.”
    “What can have happened to him?” asked the servant, shaking his head.
    “I don’t know,” answered John, but there was an awful leaden feeling in his gut as he said the words.

    *   *   *

    “I have never,” John called out of the window to Tom, “been more glad to get back home in my life.”
    The carriage was plodding up through the centre of Sidmouth village, heading towards The Anchor, which stood, as before, attractively lit by candles and looking thoroughly picturesque and inviting. Even more inviting was the sight of the beautiful Emilia, standing in the doorway and staring up the track to see if the oncoming vehicle belonged to her husband. As soon as she saw that it did, she flew towards it, smiling and calling his name.
    The Apothecary’s heart lurched. I really love this woman, he thought, and realised simultaneously that he hadn’t considered Coralie for at least two days.
    They went into the inn and sat by the fire. Even though the day had been hot, Matthew Salter had put a tinder to the wood so that its comforting glow might cheer the evening. Sitting on either side of it, each consuming a glass of claret, John in a quiet voice caught Emilia up with the day’s events. She looked thoroughly alarmed as the conversation came round to Richard.
    “What can have happened to him?”
    “I honestly don’t know.”
    “Do you think this is connected with Juliana’s death, John?”
    “I do somehow, yet I can’t quite see in what way.”
    Emilia drew a breath. “He couldn’t have killed his own sister and gone into hiding, could he?”
    The Apothecary shook his head. “Again, I don’t know. But don’t forget that I believe she was killed by more than one person.”
    His bride’s angelic features contorted. “All this weeping and wailing coming from van Guylder, was it an act?”
    “If it was, it was damnably convincing. I’ve   never seen a fellow in such a lather.”
    “I have watched actors on the stage give performances that would wither your soul. They were very convincing too.”
    “I know, I know,” said John. He drained his glass. “Let us change for dinner then let me take you to bed.”
    “There might be time beforehand,” Emilia answered pertly.
    “If there isn’t I’ll make time,” John answered, and, slipping his arm round her waist, led her up to their bedchamber.

    *   *   *

    It was all he could do to stay awake. The combination of a full stomach, a bottle of wine, a frantic day and energetic lovemaking, to say nothing of the sea air, was too heady a mix for John to cope with. Hoping that he wasn’t getting old before his time, the Apothecary was only too glad to return to his room as soon as the meal