The man struggled for speech. “You are — you are in Bath?”

“Yes, my mother is here to take the waters, and how lucky that I was able to find your shop, since I have run out of the beauty tonic that you so obligingly made up for me.” She turned to Catherine. “Mrs. Tilney, may I present Mr. Shaw? He is a very clever apothecary — too much so for Beaumont, where he used to reside, and he has moved his practice to Bath, which I’m sure you will agree is just the place for an apothecary. He was invaluable during my father’s illness; poor Papa was in so much pain at the end, we were grateful for anything that would bring him relief, and Mr. Shaw’s potions always did so.”

“I was happy to be of service to you, Miss Beauclerk,” said Mr. Shaw. “And to your family, of course.”

“Of course,” said Miss Beauclerk with a smile, which Mr. Shaw returned; he stood staring at her for a moment, quite dazzled, until Miss Beauclerk reminded him gently, “My potion?”

“Yes! Yes, of course; right away; it will not take a moment to mix it up. Will you wait, or can I have it sent to — ?” The end of his sentence trailed off suggestively.

“We have taken a house in Laura-place,” said Miss Beauclerk. “But today, I shall wait.”

Mr. Shaw went into the back of the shop, and Miss Beauclerk said in a low voice. “Mr. Shaw comes from a very good family, really; but he must make his living. Younger son, you know.”

“Yes,” said Catherine. “Henry is a younger son.”

“So he is,” said Miss Beauclerk, smiling at her.

Just then a voice came from the back; not Mr. Shaw’s, but one of much more vulgar accents. “What do you need that for, then?”

A low murmuring followed; and the voice said, “What? You make that up for a young lady? What are you thinking, you fool?” More murmuring; and the voice said, “She’s right here in the shop? I’ll talk to her, you never mind.”

An elderly man in a frizzled wig and a green baize apron like Mr. Shaw’s emerged from the back of the shop, followed by the protesting Mr. Shaw.

“Introduce me to the lady, Ned, there’s a good lad,” said the older man.

“Miss Beauclerk,” said Mr. Shaw in tones of resignation, “may I present Mr. Walton?”

“I’ve been compounding since long before you were born, ma’am,” said the older man earnestly, “and I’m here to tell you that these beauty potions you young ladies will take do you no good, ma’am, you mark my words. They may make your skin white for a time, but the arsenic builds up in the humors, and poisons you in the end. You look like a good girl; you’ll listen to old Sam, you will, and leave off this potion.”

“Arsenic?” cried Catherine in alarm. “My dear Miss Beauclerk — you take arsenic?”

“It is trace amounts, ma’am,” said the harassed Mr. Shaw. “Not enough to harm anyone, I assure you; just enough to freshen the complexion; I would never harm — ” he broke off, confused.

Mr. Walton was much amused by his lackey’s confusion. “Oh, yes, that’s right, Neddy. You understand. You won’t let the young lady poison herself. If it’s a fresher complexion you’re seeking, miss, I recommend a bit of Gowland’s Lotion. For a patent potion it’s very effective; apply it every day, and keep out of the sun, and your skin will stay white and soft without the poison. You listen to old Sam.”

“Come, Mrs. Tilney,” said Miss Beauclerk coldly. “If we cannot procure the item we seek here, we must find it elsewhere.” She left the shop immediately, Catherine and MacGuffin following hastily behind.

They had not got far when they heard running footsteps behind them. MacGuffin pressed against Catherine’s legs and turned back to face their attacker; but it was only Mr. Shaw. He seized Miss Beauclerk’s hand. “Judith,” he said, “I have been in hell since I came here. You see the depths to which I have fallen.”

“I wonder why you stay there, then; I thought you came to Bath to open your own establishment.”

“I will require much more than I thought to set up my own shop. I am working at Walton’s only until I save enough — only a few more months, I swear it. Then I will be my own man. And now that our obstacle is removed — ”

Miss Beauclerk gave Catherine another conscious side-glance. “No! No, sir, do not speak so. My mother would not allow it, any more than my father did.”

“You are of age, Judith — ”

“I would be cut off from my family, and all good society. Do not ask this of me, sir. You know I have not the courage.”

Mr. Shaw’s handsome head drooped over her hand, still held tightly within his own. “Will I see you at the theatre tonight, at least?”

“Yes, we will be there.”

“May I sit with you?”

“You know that is not within my power.”

“But you will slip away and meet me, then?” His voice lowered. “I shall bring your potion.”

She sighed and gave a little toss of her head. “I shall try.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it with violent affection. “Do I have your promise, my love?”

“Yes. Yes, you have it. Just be sure to bring the potion.”


Catherine thought a lover should look happier to make an assignation than Miss Beauclerk looked at the present moment, but she had not had experience of such clandestine romance before; nor of a gentleman who made love to a lady in the street, in front of several interested loungers and passersby.