Day's Patience

by A. W. Exley

  Marjory’s shoulders lifted along with her mood. “A grand idea. I could assist as his nurse. I am a bit rusty but can tend some lesser wounds and ailments.”

  A cold sigh blew through Lettie, and her enthusiasm scuttled away like an autumn leaf caught by the wind. Marjory had an occupation—how could she have forgotten that? She would be gainfully employed helping Grayson and tending to the sick while Lettie sat in the parlour looking decorative but with no one to look at her. But did it have to be like that?

  “Could I help too?” she asked in a voice that seemed small and alone.

  Marjory rose and took Lettie’s arm. “Of course. What man wouldn’t like a pretty nurse to distract him while the doctor stitches a wound? You have always been a fast learner, and I’m sure Dr Day wouldn’t mind teaching you when you surpass my scant knowledge.”

  A nurse. Yes, she would look fetching in a white apron and cap, mopping brows and telling people, Dr Day will see you now. “There is still some of the afternoon left. Shall we take a walk and see if we can find an empty cottage that might be available to rent?”

  The women grabbed shawls against the cool ocean breeze and hats to ensure their hair remained undisturbed. They told the staff they would be back at dinner time, and then they set off, arm in arm.

  By the time the two men returned at dusk, Marjory and Lettie had already set events in motion. Grayson seemed to be smiling an inordinate amount, and his hazel eyes were glazed over. Not to mention he swayed back and forth as though he stood on a boat in a rough ocean.

  “He’s not drunk, is he?” Marjory peered at the doctor, who snorted in response.

  “Drunk?” Samuel scoffed, then he winked at Marjory. “Of course not. He’s just had the uptight edge rubbed off a little.”

  Marjory rolled her eyes and pointed a finger at the doctor. “If he’s sober, then I’m a fairy princess.”

  Grayson did seem rather cheerful. Lettie tried to remember the times she had partaken too much alcohol. England under Charles II seemed a joyous time of perpetual inebriation for those at court. Or it had been until the king suddenly died. Now that she thought on it, her exciting drunken years in France during the eighteenth century were also abruptly curtailed. Perhaps too much alcohol wasn’t such a good thing after all, but at least Grayson wasn’t in danger of losing his head tonight, unlike poor Louis XVI.

  “Drunk or not, I know that Lettie is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” Grayson smiled at her and wobbled on his feet. Samuel reached out and grabbed the back of his collar to steady him.

  Definitely drunk. Lettie sighed. “Did you two learn anything useful?”

  Samuel shook his head. “Nothing I didn’t already know. The locals need a little time to warm up to Grayson before they start talking.”

  Bother. Well, she would push on with her idea and hope some of what she had to say penetrated the doctor’s ale-fogged brain. “Marjory and I had a brilliant idea while you two were out drinking. We have found a cottage to rent down by the shipyards and thought Grayson could set up a surgery and offer his services to the locals of Whiterock rather than lurking around the shipyard.”

  She glanced at Grayson, holding her breath while she waited to hear what the doctor thought of her idea, assuming he was sober enough for rational thought. Did he and Samuel just get drunk, or had they gone looking for women as well? A sharp pang gripped her heart as she thought of Grayson enjoying the charms of a local doxie. Lettie rubbed her chest where the heavy weight sat. Must be something she ate. Then she sniffed in the doctor’s direction but only caught a whiff of malt, not cheap perfume.

  The doctor nodded and tried to look serious. “Brilliant, Lettie. Just brilliant. You are brilliant as well as beautiful.”

  Then he fell silent and went back to swaying on an invisible ocean. Lettie toyed with touching her undine form and creating a puddle around his feet if that was all he had to say about her marvellous idea.

  “You can carry on treating the locals, Grayson,” Samuel said and tightened his grip on the doctor’s jacket. That stopped the swaying and it also seemed to remind Grayson’s brain he was supposed to say something.

  He still gazed with rapturous attention at Lettie. “Yes, I shall continue my work here. Samuel and I found a large number of men who needed attention this evening, and many insisted on buying me a drink as thanks.”

  “You don’t say.” Marjory crossed her arms.

  It seemed everyone agreed the doctor was drunk, even the physician himself.

  “Marjory has offered to assist as your nurse.” Lettie took a deep breath before she uttered the next sentence. “And I thought I would also, if you don’t mind teaching me what I need to know, so I can be of use to you.”

  Grayson lurched forward out of Samuel’s grasp and took Lettie’s hand in his. His skin was hot and damp, and Lettie’s hand tingled in response. He must be far more drunk than Samuel was letting on, and she hoped he didn’t vomit on her.

  “I would be honoured if you would consider assisting me in this venture. A doctor could not wish for a more charming or intelligent nurse than you, dearest Lettie.” Then he kissed her knuckles.

  “And Marjory. Don’t forget her.” Lettie shot her former nurse a glance. It wouldn’t hurt the inebriated doctor to spread a little goodwill in her direction too.

  “What?” Grayson frowned and tried to focus on Lettie’s face. The use of his impaired mind seemed far too much for him, and he keeled over backwards into Samuel’s strong arms.

  The gargoyle made a noise in his throat as he caught the doctor and then tossed him over a broad shoulder. “Maybe the human can’t tolerate as much alcohol as I thought.”

  “Let’s get him in bed so he can sleep it off,” Marjory said and she waved Samuel toward the door.

  Lettie stared at her hand. Her hand itched where Grayson had kissed her. She hoped he hadn’t brought home fleas. She scratched her palm as she watched the Warder carry away the already snoring doctor.

  The next morning, a subdued Grayson sat opposite Lettie at the table. She wondered if he was suffering terribly. Served him right if he was. The men went out and had fun while she and Marjory worked.

  “It would appear you are something of a success as the local doctor,” Lettie said as she poured him a strong coffee.

  “Taking payment in beer might not have been my smartest move.” He flashed her an embarrassed smile as she passed him the cup.

  She needed to remember she was cross with him. For all that he looked sorry and endearing, and had proclaimed her both beautiful and intelligent the previous evening. “At least Samuel brought you home safely. I will assume you remember little of my grand idea, since you passed out midway through my announcement.”

  The doctor stared at his coffee as the embarrassed look turned into full on mortification. He pressed a hand to his temple. “I am so sorry, Lettie. I don’t normally imbibe, apart from the odd nightcap with Jasper. I don’t know what got into me last night.”

  “You’re not the first man to drown his woes in ale,” Marjory said as she buttered toast.

  Then Marjory and Samuel exchanged amused looks. Lettie narrowed her gaze at the older couple. What did those two know? What woes bothered Grayson that he drank too much the previous night? While Lettie wanted to ask Marjory what she meant, a small voice in the back of her head suggested that was a question best left for a private moment.

  “Marjory and I have found a cottage to rent by the shore, an easy distance from both the shipyard and the village. We thought you could establish a free service for the locals rather than waiting for a job offer from the shipyard.”

  As he sipped his coffee, his usual thoughtful expression returned, although his complexion still looked gargoyle grey. “I believe you might have suggested your services to help, or am I mixing you up with Nurse Hatton?”

  Perhaps he thought her foolish, but she had voiced the idea now and wouldn’t back down. The more she thought on it, the more she wanted an active role
in life. Even if it was for only the short time they were in Whiterock pretending to be brother and sister. “I wish to assist, if you would have me. I have been too long without an occupation and thought this would be an opportunity to both be useful and learn a new skill.”

  “You will make an excellent nurse. Shall we go look at the cottage after breakfast and decide what we need?” He smiled and the warmth returned to Lettie’s skin, like when he had taken her hand.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Let us make a start.”

  8

  The doctor’s new surgery had two rooms at the front separated by the front door and a short hallway. A narrow but long kitchen occupied the width of the building at the rear. An outhouse by the barn contained the long drop toilet. The little cottage was clean and tidy and situated with a view of the beach on one side and down the main road to the village on the other. They decided one room would be a waiting room and the other where Grayson would treat his patients.

  “I’ll use the one with the smaller windows for treating patients, so people aren’t pressing their noses to the glass,” Grayson said.

  They spent the morning moving the furniture around. Most of the chairs were arranged in what was once the parlour. The bedroom became the consulting room with a single bed, desk, and two chairs. A sad-looking empty bookcase would be used to store medical supplies and equipment once Grayson had more than what he brought from Alysblud in his bag.

  With everything organised to the doctor’s satisfaction, there was little to do apart from acquiring more supplies, making a sign to hang outside, and spreading the word. They decided to head back to the house for lunch.

  Samuel met them out in the driveway as his man took the horse’s reins.

  “There’s a pharmacy in Sunderland. You should be able to acquire most of your supplies there,” Samuel suggested when he heard what the doctor needed.

  “While you do that, I could ask around and try to find Ellen Bassett?” Marjory proposed.

  “Very well, let’s make a trip into Sunderland after lunch,” Grayson said.

  A raven flew down from a nearby tree and sat on Samuel’s shoulder. Warder and watcher regarded each other for a silent minute. Samuel’s eyes turned black like the raven’s wings as he communed with the bird, then the raven cawed and flew back to the tree tops.

  “Not Jasper again, I hope,” Lettie muttered as they walked inside.

  Samuel blinked to clear his vision and then laughed. “Not this time. The watcher has news that will be of interest to you. You may wish to go to Sunderland for a walk.”

  “Oh?” She waited for Samuel to elaborate on what the raven had shared with him.

  “The peacock intends to show off his plumage for the peahens this afternoon.”

  “I will need time to wash and change after lunch.” If Lettie was going to intercept Byron Ocram, she first needed to make sure her battle armour was in place.

  Lettie excused herself from lunch early and then took time over her appearance. Her walking dress was a rich blue silk faille with embroidered aqua and green dots that reminded her of how light refracted underwater. She pulled a dark curl free either side of her face, to let them brush against her cheeks. Then she tweaked each fall of her gown. Lastly, she picked up the matching parasol and descended the stairs. She took each step slowly. The walking dress had a full bustle, and the extra fabric draped around her posterior as though she dangled an anchor behind her.

  Grayson took off his hat as she approached and held out his arm. He had replaced his country tweed with a suit of dark grey wool. He now looked more city surgeon than country doctor. “You look beautiful.”

  “I believe you expressed that opinion last night.” Lettie couldn’t resist the jibe. A sister wouldn’t let such an opportunity pass.

  She was rewarded by the way he dropped his arm and fussed with his hat. Delivering the jab didn’t feel quite as delicious as it did when she prodded Jasper or Julian. Instead she wanted to gather Grayson’s drunken words to her and hide them away with her childhood treasures. She also wanted to take his arm but couldn’t very well grab hold of him now he had withdrawn the offer. They walked out to the gig with a large space between them.

  Marjory joined them outside, and the women waved to Samuel as they set off for Sunderland, each of them with their own mission. Marjory to track down the woman who had once been Dawn’s neighbour. Grayson to buy supplies for his new practice. And Lettie to catch a sylph. She stared at her parasol and wondered if a butterfly net might be of more use in her hunt.

  First they dropped Marjory off in the general area where Old Charlie said Ellen Bassett lived. The pharmacy was not far from the park, so Grayson left the horse and gig at a livery he spotted and they proceeded on foot.

  Lettie couldn’t remember when she last stepped foot in an apothecary. It could have been fifty years or a hundred, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Such shops changed little with the passage of time; indeed, they seemed to occupy a space outside of time.

  The shelves marching up one wall were crammed with unidentifiable objects floating in glass jars. Bottles in a range of shapes and sizes and of different coloured glass shone like large baubles. Their pretty exteriors hid a multitude of potions and poisons like laudanum and arsenic.

  Dried herbs, their stems tied together with string, dangled upside down from the ceiling. White willow, valerian, feverfew, and chamomile waited to be ground up and turned into infusions. A rich, spiced fragrance drifted down from the plants. Behind the counter was a wall of tiny drawers that looked like a child’s puzzle made up of squares and rectangles. The drawers contained more concoctions waiting to be blended by the pharmacist into the doses specified by a physician.

  “Can I help you, sir?” An older gentleman with a bald head and gold-rimmed glasses slid a drawer closed. He wore a pristine white apron, and black sleeve garters held his white sleeves up so the cuffs didn’t get dirty.

  “Yes. I am Doctor Day, and I am establishing a new practice in Whiterock. I require a number of basic items.” Grayson had written a list, which he handed over to the pharmacist.

  The man pulled his glasses to the end of his nose and peered over the tops of the rims. “I should be able satisfy most of this list. Would you like to return for this later today, or I could have it delivered tomorrow?”

  Lettie browsed the shelves while Grayson settled the details and gave directions to the cottage. She stared at a row of jars that appeared to contain eyeballs. The floating orbs were too big to be human. Bovine, perhaps? Then she set to wondering what on Earth one did with a marinated eyeball and what exactly would it cure—short-sightedness?

  “Not all remedies have a scientific basis. Some people rely on folklore and superstition as they find it more trustworthy,” Grayson’s soft tone came from by her ear.

  More like witchcraft, Lettie thought.

  “All done?” She turned, grateful to stop staring at the floating eyes. She didn’t like the way they regarded her. As though she were judged and found lacking by a bodiless cow.

  “Yes. Shall we find the park?” His mood had lightened, or more likely his hangover had retreated.

  They exited the dim interior of the apothecary and stepped into the bright sunshine. Grayson drew a sharp breath and pulled the brim of his bowler down to shade his eyes.

  “Head still hurt?” Lettie murmured.

  “Somewhat. Perhaps I should have asked for some hair of the dog while I was inside?” He flashed her a smile and then extended his arm.

  She slipped her hand around his forearm as they headed down the street. Her mind danced over all the changes since she had last strolled a main road. Gas lamps with nodding heads leaned over the pavement. Shop fronts had glass clear of imperfections so pedestrians could see the items within. Horses pulled brightly painted trams up and down the streets, taking passengers to their destinations.

  The new bustle and industry washed over Lettie. Even the odours had changed. The rich aroma of packed earth a
nd horse manure replaced with the sharper tang of oil and smoke. “I feel like a character from a fairy tale. The girl who awakens after sleeping for centuries in her hidden tower to find the world much changed and she no longer has a place within it.”

  She paused to stare in a shop window containing the latest fashions in hats, gloves, and stockings. Oh, how she loved hats. At least they would never go out of fashion.

  “I thought the sleeping beauty could only be awakened by a kiss from her true prince.” Grayson angled his shoulder and deflected a man who would otherwise have ploughed into Lettie.

  Decades ago, Lettie had given up on the idea of a prince rescuing her from the tower. She cast a sideways glance at the doctor. “Perhaps I am still asleep and this is all a dream. I could ask Byron Ocram to awaken me?”

  Grayson narrowed his eyes as though his headache had returned. “Don’t forget what his kind did to your brother.”

  Lettie swallowed a mouthful of air. How could she ever forget? She would live for hundreds of years, and every night as she closed her eyes, she would see the look of despair etched on Julian’s face as the Meidh froze him. Some memories were so perfectly preserved in agony that time could never fade them. “Excuse me for trying to find a moment of levity after being consumed by sorrow for so many years.”

  They continued walking toward the park. Grayson laid his hand over hers. “Forgive me, Lettie. I am troubled that you throw yourself into danger. Unlike Jasper or Samuel, I do not possess any special skills to keep you from harm.”

  “There is nothing to forgive, for we are brother and sister, remember? It is the way of siblings to snap and snarl at each other, but it does not lessen the affection we hold for one another.” A warmth settled in her gut. She enjoyed Grayson’s company and his hovering, overprotective brother side. She felt secure around him, even though he was an ordinary human and not an Elemental.