by Regina Scott
He released her to turn and pull a fresh bandage from his bag. “There is no silver cup for enduring pain, Miss Archer. If you need the medicine, use it.”
“I told you, it makes me nauseous. And there’s no silver cup for vomiting either, sir.”
A laugh popped out of him, and Eva giggled. Abigail’s shoulders came down. But, when next he spoke, it was directed at her friend as he began bandaging Abigail’s wound anew.
“You have always struck me as a reasonable person, Mrs. Howland. Perhaps you can convince your friend to have a care for herself.”
“I don’t know how I gave you the impression that I’m reasonable, Doctor,” Eva said, the twinkle returning to her blue eyes. “The previous Earl of Howland called me headstrong. I believe Abigail and I share that trait.”
Abigail grinned at her.
He finished quickly and picked up his bag. “I’ll check on you this evening, Miss Archer.”
“Twice in one day,” Abigail teased. “How did I earn such an honor?”
“By being headstrong,” he replied. He nodded to both of them. “Good day, ladies.”
Eva watched him out. “You’ve certainly set his back up.”
“Well, he sets mine up, so we are even.” She patted the bed beside her. “Come. Talk to me. Tell me of something beyond these walls.”
Eva came to sit, settling her lavender skirts about her. “I wish I had thrilling tales to share, but things have been quiet the last few days since we captured Harris. As far as we know, no one has broken into the castle.”
Castle How had seen a number of mysterious events the last few weeks—lights appearing in the window, strangers flitting through the Great Hall. All had now been laid at the foot of Mr. Harris, the French agents for whom he worked, and others who had since departed the village.
“Then you think the French will still land,” Abigail said.
“If they do, we’ll be ready,” Eva promised. “Mr. Greer will be exercising the militia three days a week starting tomorrow. James will take over when he returns. In the meantime, I’d feel more assured if we could find the remaining French agents.”
“So would I,” Abigail told her. “And I fear Doctor Bennett will not be up to the task. He simply doesn’t know a Regular from a stranger. And he’s more likely to argue logically than to take action.”
“Unlike you,” Eva said with a nod to her bandage.
“Unlike me,” Abigail said primly. “But I can promise you—I’ll be keeping an eye on Grace-by-the-Sea, and our new physician.”
~~~
Abigail Archer was certainly a redoubtable woman. Linus caught himself smiling as he walked to the spa that morning. His father had treated more gunshot wounds than any physician would prefer, and Linus had seen more than his share of soldiers begging for something to kill the pain. She bravely fought through. A shame that meant she sometimes fought him as well.
He didn’t like being a few minutes late, but at least no one was waiting for him, and his first appointment wasn’t until half past ten. He unlocked the door and ventured inside.
The quiet, the peace, settled over him like a warm blanket. Whoever had designed the spa at Grace-by-the-Sea had known exactly what he was about. One wall held windows looking down toward the cove and the sea beyond. The other walls, all the color of that sea on a clear day, surrounded the space with calm. Potted palms here and there whispered of warmer climes. The pale stone fountain in the corner promised a refreshing drink. Now, if he could just get that fountain to work.
The fluted basin still showed a faint circle of orange, marking where the mineral waters had once pooled, so he knew the pumping mechanism had worked at some point. No matter which way he twisted the little rod below the basin, nor how many times, the fountain would do no more than dribble water down the carved central stand of stone. A gurgling below suggested more waited. He had no idea how to free it.
Well, they’d hired a physician, not an engineer.
He was still tinkering with it when his guests began arriving.
The first two were gentlemen, Mr. Donner and Mr. George. They had started attending the spa when he had begun his post. Both had dark hair and ready smiles and dressed like London dandies. Neither required medical treatment, or at least not that he could see. They certainly had not approached him about any concerns. They seemed content to sit in the wicker chairs by the windows and wait for others to join them.
The next visitor to arrive made his way straight to Linus’s side. “Quiet this morning,” he mused, glancing around.
Linus smiled at his colleague. Doctor Robert Owens had appeared at the spa only the other day. Round face wreathed in wrinkles, short-cropped hair now white and thinning, he nevertheless exhibited an energy that Linus envied. Now he rubbed his hands before his tailored blue coat as if he couldn’t wait to begin work.
“I hope that it will be worth your time shortly,” Linus told him. “If not, I fear you’ll have nothing to tell the spa owner in Scarborough.”
Owens returned his smile. “Oh, no need to worry, dear boy. I’m learning all sorts of things at Grace-by-the-Sea. I’m sure my superiors will agree it was worth my time to visit to see how you all do things here.”
Perhaps as an example of what not to do at a spa.
Over the course of the next hour, Linus did his best to welcome each visitor and attempted to determine their reasons for coming to the spa. Most seemed more interested in meeting others than in being treated, and he could only hope that Miss Chance would take pity on him and return soon. It was challenging enough seeing each one settled. Now he found himself studying every countenance for more than signs of illness.
Were there truly French agents among them?
He could not discount the possibility. The worrisome proximity of the southern coast of England to France had been a key consideration in his decision to move Ethan to Grace-by-the-Sea. Napoleon was said to have amassed thousands of ships and soldiers across that narrow body of water, ready to embark at a moment’s notice to cross the Channel and invade England. Defenses had gone up from Dover to Cornwall. Every county had had to develop plans on how to safeguard its people, livestock, and wheeled conveyances.
Still, Grace-by-the-Sea seemed an unlikely landing spot. The cove might be sheltered, but it was small. On the other hand, it was the only area of low bank leading up to the Downs for miles, and the other bigger harbors were guarded by trained soldiers and marines.
But to see treachery, villainy, in every new face? Unthinkable!
He had settled all the guests and was back at the fountain again when he became aware of an increase in the noise level. Turning, he found that Miss Chance had entered the spa along with half a dozen people who had apparently been regular attendees before he had taken his position. He’d met one—Mr. Crabapple. His rheumy eyes and jerky movements begged for Linus’s medical attention. Unfortunately, like the others, he studiously avoided Linus, coming instead to sit opposite a silver-haired fellow at the chessboard near the fountain.
Miss Chance went to the tall desk by the door. When Linus joined her, she was consulting the large book open there.
“No others appear to have signed in since you arrived,” she said, voice soft as she flipped back a page. “Yet I see at least one Newcomer in the room.”
“I don’t tend to ask whether they’re visiting for the first time, so I never suggested they sign in,” Linus told her. “Is that of particular importance?”
“Very,” she assured him, raising her blue gaze off the paper. “We have three classes of visitors, sir: Newcomers, Irregulars, and Regulars, and they must be treated accordingly.”
She made the categories sound as important as animal, vegetable, and mineral.
“As I would treat any regardless, I fail to see the distinction,” he said.
“Whereas my treatment of them must vary considerably,” she said. “See Mrs. Harding, there by the windows?”
An older woman with auburn hair and a phys
ique in robust health stood surrounded by gentlemen, Mr. Donner and Mr. George among them. “She would not appear to require my services,” he noted.
“Indeed, sir. She comes for the company. She has stayed here from spring to autumn for years. I have no need to instruct her about the village shops, the location of the assembly on Wednesday, the timing of church services.”
He would not have thought to instruct anyone on those matters. “Ah, I see. But you would have to share such insights with those new to the spa.”
“And those who come only occasionally,” she agreed. “And everyone must sign the welcome book. It is helpful for you and me to match faces to names and names to needs. And it allows acquaintances to find each other.”
She made it sound logical. “I begin to see why your Regulars value you as they do. Thank you for agreeing to return to the spa.”
She nodded. “It is my pleasure. How have you been getting on otherwise? I trust you found the examining rooms to be sufficient.”
“More than sufficient. Though I cannot convince the fountain to do more than bubble.”
“There’s a trick to it. Let me show you.”
He spent the rest of the day learning.
“I had no idea of the responsibilities,” he told Abigail Archer when he went to check on her and pick up Ethan that evening. “It seems I should have informed the Inchleys to retrieve the dirty glasses and bring fresh ones. I’d been attempting to sanitize the few we used myself. I didn’t know to alert Mr. Ellison to bring things for tea. We haven’t hosted tea since Miss Chance left. And I would have been lost attempting to manage my first assembly. I cannot thank you enough for insisting that I approach her.”
Sitting up in her bed, she smiled. She appeared to be in excellent health: color in her cheeks, a sparkle to her green eyes. She’d draped a short jacket of a similar shade of green about her shoulders. The color made the ginger of her hair and lips more noticeable.
“Did your mother put up your hair?” he asked. All too easy to focus on the warm color, estimate the thickness, imagine the feel of it. Ahem.
She raised her uninjured arm to touch a hand to the braid about her head. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
Linus collected himself. “Just making sure you’re following doctor’s orders.”
That brought the familiar light flaring into her eyes. “I don’t follow anyone’s orders, sir.”
“A slip of the tongue,” Linus assured her.
She leaned forward. “Then we are agreed I may rise from this bed?”
“We can consider it tomorrow,” he hedged. “Until then, continue the regime I prescribed.”
She made a face as she leaned back. “May I at least have something better than gruel? Mother tells me the Mermaid has a lovely beef stew tonight.”
“I cannot advise red meat,” he started, but he could see her stiffening, as if building up the energy to fight him. “However, if you concentrate on the vegetables instead, I will allow it.”
“How very generous of you.”
He had not been aware those words could be said so venomously.
“Until the morning, then,” he replied and went to collect his son.
Once more Ethan walked with him down High Street, head bowed as if he counted each stone they passed. The stillness at the spa had been restful. The silence now made Linus’s shoulders feel tight, as if his muscles had suddenly pulled themselves into a ball. Not so long ago, when Linus had come home from his practice at the end of the day, Ethan would have told him stories—castles he’d built with his blocks, mathematical problems he’d solved. Now he spoke only when necessary.
“How are you and Mrs. Archer getting along?” Linus asked as they turned onto the path toward the cottage.
“She’s very kind,” Ethan allowed, head still bowed. The sea breeze ruffled his hair.
“Oh?” Linus encouraged. “How so?”
“She lets me draw as much as I like, and she brings me treats from the bakery.”
Why was he suddenly jealous of a baker? “We could purchase treats as well. Nothing too sweet and not often enough to disrupt your diet, of course.”
“Yes, sir,” Ethan said dutifully. He climbed the steps to the cottage as cautiously as an old man.
Linus almost slammed the cottage door shut behind them. But no. He would not allow such a display. Ethan deserved better.
And Linus knew why the display was so tempting. He was frustrated, with himself and their situation. Catriona was to have been his partner, the mother to their son. Her charm, her beauty, had won his heart, but marrying her had been a mistake. She’d craved a life he could not give her, a life he still didn’t fully understand. In the end, she’d chosen that life over him and their son and left them behind. He still struggled to forgive her for her choices.
But he refused to let Ethan see any of that. His son deserved to live without the fears, the burdens.
If only Linus could find a prescription that would help the two of them find happiness again.
Chapter Four
Abigail took particular pleasure from the look on Doctor Bennett’s face when he came to bring Ethan and check on her the next morning. As his son went to the dining room where her mother had hot chocolate waiting, the physician stopped in the middle of the sitting room and narrowed his eyes at her.
“I distinctly recall saying we might consider you getting out of bed,” he said.
Abigail rose from the sofa, her burgundy-colored skirts falling about her feet. It had taken an hour of practice that had left her sweating, but she could stand without putting either hand on the seat to help her. “I did consider it, and then I attempted it, and you can see for yourself that I am fine.”
His gaze swept over her, as if he was examining every inch, and her cheeks heated.
“Your color is too high,” he said, bringing his gaze to meet hers. “You obviously overexerted yourself.”
Abigail shook her head. “Have you ever considered that my color has less to do with my health and more to do with your infuriating suggestions?”
He frowned. “I suppose that’s possible. And how am I to examine your arm now that you’re clothed?”
“Ha!” She twisted to show him the white satin lacing on the long full sleeves. “Eva Howland let me borrow the gown. You have only to untie the ribbons, and the fabric will fall aside.”
He looked skeptical, but he dropped his bag on the sofa and began loosening the ribbon to run it back through the embroidery-edged holes.
Abigail glanced toward the dining room. Her mother was sitting calmly, sipping at her cup and nodding at something Ethan was saying. She had explained the function of the gown to her mother, but surely the woman had some opinion about the fact that her daughter was being partially undressed less than twenty feet away.
Doctor Bennett, thankfully, seemed more fascinated by the gown than what was inside. “Ingenious,” he allowed as the bandage came into view. “I’ll have to suggest this to the next lady I treat who has had the misfortune to be shot in the arm.”
Was he teasing her? Abigail turned her head to watch him. He was busy unwrapping the bandage, large hands quick but gentle. The scent of mint caught her nose. His cologne, perhaps? Or the soap he used?
“Any pain?” he asked.
Abigail gathered her wits. “None. I haven’t used the laudanum either. And I ate an entire bowl of stew with no nausea. I’m ready to go about my day.”
“Not until the sutures have been removed,” he said, gaze on her wound.
“So, remove them.”
He turned to retrieve the new bandage. “In another ten days.”
“Ten days!” Abigail stared at him. “Jesslyn Chance walks down the aisle in four. Nothing will keep me from her side.”
“Fever?” he suggested calmly, lifting the new bandage from the bag. “Gangrene?”
“Surely they are no longer considerations,” she protested. “I can stand, move. I am dressing and undressing myself with assistanc
e. It is only a one-hour ceremony, sir.”
“One hour of standing,” he reminded her, beginning to wrap the bandage around her arm. “The attendants remain on their feet along with the bride, groom, and minister, at least in the weddings I’ve attended. That doesn’t count the preparations beforehand or the wedding breakfast afterward. Such an event will tax your strength.”
“You, sir, know nothing of my strength.”
He finished rewrapping the wound. “Tie up the ribbons yourself, then.”
She scowled at the dangling ribbon, then at him. “That’s not fair. It’s impossible to do one-handed.”
“As will be many tasks if you lose that arm.” He snapped shut his bag. “I hope you will think about what I said. We can speak further tonight.”
Abigail gritted her teeth as he headed for the door. He might know more about medicine, but she knew her own capabilities. She would not wait for him to return tonight. She would go up to the spa and prove to them all she was sufficient. She needed no one’s help to live her life.
Least of all his.
~~~
Stubborn, prideful, willful! Linus found himself walking faster than his usual pace around the corner of Miss Archer’s shop and forcibly slowed his steps. Why couldn’t he make her see reason? He knew what gunshot wounds could do to flesh; he’d heard the screams of soldiers as their limbs were amputated. Worse were those who had to wait, eyes sunken, faces sweating, as they begged for mercy.
He stopped, swallowing. Was that sweat on his own brow? The sea breeze seemed inordinately cool otherwise. And here he’d thought himself beyond such memories now.
As he drew in a breath, he became aware of another gaze. Through the window of Mr. Carroll’s Curiosities across the street from him, the dapper shopkeeper looked at him in concern. Then he held up one finger. Linus had only reached the shop door when he hurried out.
“For your son,” he said, offering a book from the many Linus knew crowded the shop. “I thought the drawing of the octopus particularly intriguing.”