The Painter's Apprentice (39 page)

‘Last time? Oh Martha! Not another one? Little Alys isn’t even weaned.’

‘I know.’ Martha sighed, the shadows under her hazel eyes dark against her pale face. ‘I did warn Robert that if he insisted
Alys went to a wet nurse it was likely I’d fall again but you know how stubborn men can be.’

‘Stubborn and peculiar,’ Susannah added, thinking of her father’s latest purchase. She pulled the joint stool from under the
counter and stretched up to the top shelf for the ginger cordial, then decanted some of the golden liquid into a bottle and
stopped it with a cork.

The narrow door to the staircase creaked open and Cornelius appeared, wearing the new acquisition and his best blue coat.
He showed more lace than usual at his throat and new blue ribands on his shoes. The air around him carried the distinct aroma
of lavender water and self-conscious pride.

‘Martha. Are you keeping well?’

Martha’s freckled face turned from white to red as she bobbed a curtsy. ‘Mr Leyton. Thank you, I am very well.’

Cornelius’s eyes flickered to the bottle of cordial and then to Martha’s waist. ‘And all your little ones?’

‘Well, too.’

‘Good, good. I shall not detain you.’ He picked up his cane with the silver head. ‘Susannah, do not wait up for me; I shall
not be home for supper.’ He launched himself into the hurly burly of Fleet Street, raising his cane to attract a passing hackney
carriage.

Martha stared at her friend with wide eyes. ‘Your father looks so different. I never realised before what a handsome man he
is.’

After Martha had left, Susannah began to wonder where her father had gone, all dressed up in such finery.