Sprig of Thyme

by Jenna Dawlish

  Sprig of Thyme

  Jenna Dawlish

  Published by E-scape Press Ltd, England.

  The moral right of Jenna Dawlish to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  ISBN: 978-1-908629-00-5

  Sprig of Thyme. Copyright ©2011 Jenna Dawlish.All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organisations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of E-scape Press. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  www.escapewithabook.com

  Jenna Dawlish

  Jenna began writing at the tender age of thirty years old whilst commuting into London. She loves writing and researching into the Victorian Era, adding to her huge pile of books regularly.

  She now lives in Devon with her family in a quaint (and sometimes drafty) english cottage.

  Once I had a sprig of thyme

  It prospered by night and by day

  Til a false young man came a-courting to me

  And he stole all my thyme away

  Traditional English Folk Song

  Chapter 1

  Bath, England 1840

  Adella took a confident step through the doorway, and her eyes swept around the elegant drawing room. This grand house in South Parade was as good as any other in the finer end of Bath.

  She looked down at the richly patterned Axminster carpet, and dared not guess how much it cost. Then around at the furniture; it was of the best quality. The piano with its lid closed; such a waste of a fine instrument, the tall vase of lilies on an exquisite mahogany table, and then the elegant lady reclined on a chaise longue.

  She had come to the house because she was running an errand for her half brother; Dr Leonard Preston. Being at his disposal for such things, she often went to the Apothecary on his behalf and such trips were becoming more frequent as his practice grew. Now she had arrived with a package for his newest and, possibly richest patient.

  She took a few more light steps into the room, unafraid to disturb the quiet.

  “Ah, Adella!” her brother said motioning her to come further in.

  She took the opportunity to observe her brother's patient more closely. Very much a Lady, and dressed in a fashionable green silk dress that Adella could only dream of owning. She was beautiful; blond hair tied up flawlessly, with an oval face. A pale face. She was obviously unwell.

  “May I present my sister, Miss Maxwell. She has brought those tonics I told you about. Adella, this is Mrs Polwarth,” Leonard indicated.

  “Polwarth?” her mind whispered. Her brow furrowed. Polwarth? She only knew one person by that name. Surely this lady was not related to him?

  Adella went forward and presented herself. The lady looked at her with an expression of neutrality, then, after a few moments she stared and her eyes widened.

  “You. . .” Mrs Polwarth muttered, and she seemed unable to speak further.

  A quiet cough came from the other side of the room, and Adella looked up. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and saw a gentleman. She hadn't noticed him when she entered.

  She gasped as she took in those features she knew so well from five years ago.

  Her reaction to him did not go unnoticed by the other occupants of the room. He cleared his throat, then, not even glancing at Adella said to her brother, “Excuse me, I think I should leave you two alone with my wife.”

  “Please do not go Joel, you know how I depend on you,” Mrs Polwarth said as she feebly held out her arm. He hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do. Then he conceded to his wife's pleading, and resumed his former position by the window. Mrs Polwarth threw a suspicious glance at Adella, then at her husband.

  Adella felt herself flush deep red, and tried to not stare at Mr Polwarth.

  After all these years, she was finally in the same room as him.

  She never thought it would happen again.

  Of course, she was not introduced to him. A doctor's errand-girl would not be deemed worthy of such an honour. Just as well. Their eyes met and they held each other's gaze for a few moments until her brother's voice roused her.

  “Adella, is there something wrong?”

  “Oh. . .no,” she said turning back to the patient. “Sorry, here are the tonics you asked for.”

  “Thank you. If you wait a moment, I will accompany you back. It should not take much longer to see to Mrs Polwarth.”

  Adella nodded and stepped backwards against the nearest wall while her brother tended to his patient for a few more minutes. She tried to remain as invisible as possible, though that was difficult given who she was in the room with. Try as she may, she could not get over the complete and utter feeling that she wished the ground would swallow her up. All the while he stood across from her; not six paces away. Most of the time he looked out of the window, but occasionally she noticed his eyes would flicker to her.

  After the first few glances, her pride took over and she met his brief looks with proud defiance. After all, she had nothing to be disgraced about. He was the one who should be ashamed.

  She noticed he was dressed in expensive tailoring, but then, that was not surprising, he was very rich. He wore a dark green jacket and a fine dark green waistcoat, no doubt from the best tailor. His hands clasped behind his back, she could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Five years had taken little toll on his handsome features. She calculated he must be at least 26. Yes 26, his birthday was the 24th February she recalled frustratingly quickly, and it was April now. His hair was longer than before, and still the darkest raven black. She stopped herself from remembering how she used to run her fingers through it.

  Adella tore her gaze away from him, and turned to Mrs Polwarth. So, this was his wife. She was beautiful, but there was a shrewish look about her she hadn't noticed straight away. Her hair was insipid and lack-lustre, but she supposed that was no surprise under the circumstances. She checked herself from further criticism. It was not right of her to do such a thing. This woman was his wife and she deserved pity and not only because she was ill.

  When her brother finished tending to his patient and took his leave she made for the door, eager to escape.

  “Actually, Adella,” she heard her brother say, “Would you mind waiting for me downstairs? I would like to speak to Mr Polwarth about a few matters.”

  “Of course,” she murmured and showed herself out, wishing he had realised ten minutes previously that he needed to speak to Mr Polwarth alone.

  Mr Polwarth nodded to her in a polite manner as she left. Protocol required it, but she did not acknowledge or return the gesture. No, she would not. Nothing could bring her to acknowledge him.

  She closed the oak drawing room door behind her, shut her eyes and let out a long deep breath. Today was supposed to have been an ordinary day. One thing was sure, she had to get outside. Her legs almost gave way with each step and she ran down the flight of stairs, then out into the street.

  She took a deep breath as if she had been suffocated before.

  Her life would never be the same again, at least not while he was in Bath. If she ever thought she would see him again, then she wouldn't have reckoned on it being now, five y
ears since their paths first met, and in Bath, a place far from where they knew each other before.

  Her heart thumped hard as she blushed and re-lived every second of the last fifteen minutes when she was forced into his presence. He recognised her straight away, she knew that. She remembered every expression on his face, learnt from those six short months they shared.

  How did his wife recognise her? They had never met before – she was sure of it.

  She walked a few doors down, just out of sight from the house, and the window on the second floor. A few moments later she walked back. What had she to hide? What if he did see her from the window? It was a public place. He could look on her all he pleased. The world seemed oblivious to her torment and mercilessly carried on as if nothing was wrong. But how she wished to cry out. Why now? Why here? How she wished she had been more prepared to be in his presence again. One thing was certain, she must master her feelings. If Leonard suspected something, it would only make matters worse. She would only end up telling him everything.

  Eventually Leonard emerged from the house and they walked towards their home in Horse Shoe Walk. “I must stop at Mr Alther's very quickly before we go home,” he said.

  “Of course.”

  But as her brother turned left down a side street that led to the Alther's Apothecary Shop, Adella continued on, a thousand thoughts swimming in her head. Her brother grabbed her arm, and she looked up, seeing where they should be going.

  “I'm sorry,” she shrugged in apology.

  Leonard smiled at her, “You can tell me all about it later. Until then, I have business.”

  They made their way a few yards down the side street. It was by no means the only Apothecary in Bath, but it was the nearest to their home, and Mr Alther was lenient about the time it took Dr Preston to pay his bills. The familiar shop front greeted them, dressed with a myriad of coloured bottles, boxes and jars of the current medicines all claiming to cure illnesses and ailments. When they entered, the pungent smell of chemicals, herbs and other brewing concoctions that were cooked up every day was a warm welcome. They waited a few minutes while an elderly gentleman was served. He left with a number of bottles and packages until Mr Alther turned his attention to them.

  “Dr Preston, Adella! You here again! You can't stay away can you?” he grinned, “Always nice to see you both, even if it was just a short time ago.”

  Adella smiled back. Her previous stresses forgotten, because it was impossible to dislike Mr Alther. He had such a happy manner about him, and always lifted her spirits. He was a tall pole of a man, with large eyes, and the thick glasses he wore made his eyes look enormous.

  “Miss Maxwell is here again Mary!” he shouted over his shoulder to the doorway behind.

  A short moment later, Mrs Alther appeared. As was her custom, she wore a large amount of jewellery and an extremely frilly dress which, Adella always thought was to draw emphasis away from her face. She was not the most beautiful in Bath, but certainly not plain. She never seemed far from the counter, always hiding in the office, and appearing at a moments notice. Today she was carried a pestle and mortar with a small quantity of yellow powder in it.

  “Oh Miss Maxwell! Dr Preston. How lovely. I was about to make some tea!” she said.

  “I'm sorry Mrs Alther, we cannot stay. I have another patient to see soon,” Leonard replied.

  “Very well,” crestfallen, her smile disappeared and her shoulders dropped. She took to studying the contents of the bottles on the counter.

  “But maybe we could come in the next few days. Things are a little quiet tomorrow and Wednesday,” Leonard added as an afterthought.

  “Oh good! I will look forward to it. You can tell me all about Mrs Westmorland's conjunctivitis.”

  Leonard shook his finger at her, “Now Mrs Alther, you know I can't tell you anything of the sort. I can't break my patient confidentiality.”

  “You know I love to tease you!” she said. “One day you will slip up and then how I shall laugh!”

  Mrs Alther returned to her office, and Leonard finally got down to the real reason he was there: a prescription.

  “Sleeping draughts for Mr Polwarth,” Mr Alther read on the paper. Adella tried not to flinch at the mention of his name again.

  She had nearly forgotten him.

  Nearly.

  “Hmm an unusual one, I shall have to make it up especially. But it is a good choice Dr Preston, one of the less addictive types.”

  “I shall send Adella to collect it later and she can drop it off to Mr Polwarth.”

  Adella felt the blood drain from her face. “B-But surely, someone else could take it?”

  Leonard turned and studied his sister.

  “All you need do is hand it in at the servants' entrance Adella.” He said in a low voice.

  She nodded as Mr Alther said, “Now Adella, surely you would rather use the servants' entrance eh? None of that "la de da" that we all hate, and that's just the footmen that answer the door! They look down on people like us, when we all know they are the same as us. Except we don't have to be nice to people all day in case we get thrown out on our ear.”

  “Yes, I suppose.” Adella managed a smile.

  “Good, that's settled then,” said Leonard.

  Adella did go back to the Polwarth's, and at Mr Alther's suggestion, she used the servants' entrance. She was gone within a minute of the door being answered, but all the way there and back, she kept a watchful eye about her in case she saw him. Thankfully he was nowhere to be seen.

  All through the day she was conscious of herself, wondering every time she walked out if she would see him. One thing was certain, she would not speak to him, and a part of her wished to see him in the street, just so she could snub him.

  Seeing Joseph again, no, it was Joel; that was his real name, shocked Adella beyond anything she had felt for many years. Five years in fact. It all flooded back, every painful moment of his betrayal, his deceit and his wanton abandonment.

  What was he doing here in Bath? Why had he asked her brother to be his wife's doctor? He was mocking her, she was sure of it. He had come to seek her out, and to torment her even more than before.

  ***

  Adella need not have feared accidentally meeting Joel Polwarth. He never ventured out that day, so she could have gone about unheeded and without worry. That night, Joel sat on the side of his bed, his head cradled in his hands.

  Hopefully the next day would not prove so troublesome. The next time he saw Adella, he vowed not to be so stilted, so awkward. He did not expect to see her so soon. He smiled to himself. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Her plain blue dress and her brown hair tied up in a simple knot made no difference to her attractiveness. Her blue eyes still with the long dark lashes framing them. She had simply grown more bewitching in five years. Cynthia recognised Adella, he was sure of it. Cynthia's face always showed every emotion she was feeling. But how she knew about Adella, he could not comprehend. Unless of course she had secretly looked through his sketches.

  Cynthia, now sleeping in her own chamber, was more than difficult this evening. The chair was too hard, the chaise longue uncomfortable, her tea too cold, the chimney smoked. He attended her until his patience was at an end. He called for her maid and went to sit in his study for the rest of the evening.

  They had only been in Bath for two days and already Joel was exasperated. This time away was supposed to be helping her, but instead she seemed more agitated and fretful than normal. Still, his closest friend Frederick Garner was due to arrive in about a week and he looked forward to a time when he had an excuse to be away from home a little. Perhaps she would settle down in a few days.

  He was sure it was not the house or their location that troubled her. He chose this house in particular on a glowing recommendation and it was one of the smartest and fashionable areas. Cynthia seemed pleased with the idea of spending time in Bath, goodness knows she needed a change of scene. Bed-ridden for many months and although her il
lness was real, she seemed to play on it, mentioning symptoms that their doctor said was not a result of the underlying problem.

  The whole trip to Bath was difficult from start to finish. They travelled by coach, but Joel knew that rail would have been quicker and more comfortable. Cynthia insisted that the fast speeds the trains travelled would make her more ill than she already was. Consequently the journey took three arduous days and they were both exhausted.

  He sat up and poured one of the sleeping draughts into a glass of water. He needed as much rest as possible. As far as he could see, things would only get worse. He drank the contents in one gulp and lay back in bed waiting for it to take effect.

  Adella's face filled his mind, and he drifted off to an induced sleep a few minutes later.

  ***

  It had been a long and stressful day for Adella, and she was glad when after dinner, they retired to the sitting room, but not until everything was cleared away and tidied. She kept an ordered house for her brother, even if it was modest in size. She was proud of his medical career, and was happy to be of use to him.

  “I saw George Fadden on the way back this afternoon,” Adella said after a few minutes.

  “Oh really? How is he?” A small playful smile spread across Leonard's mouth.

  “He is well, thank you, and you need not smile like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know.”

  “Well, I can't help it. The poor man can hardly speak when he is around you.” Leonard said.

  “I have noticed. He stutters and stammers and eventually gets a compliment or two out.” She smiled at the thought of Mr Fadden's blushes whenever she looked at him. If she was of a flirtatious and cruel nature she could have played with his feelings.

  “He likes you very much,” Leonard said.

  “I know.”

  “Yet you give him no encouragement. Why is that? He is a son of a successful grocer, he is a good man, handsome, a little quiet, but a girl like you could help him rid himself of his shyness.”