The Baron's Malady: A Smithfield Market Regency Romance

by Rose Pearson

  “You are doing marvelously well,” Sam murmured in her ear, as she wrung out the cloths for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. “Doctor Thomas is ever so pleased with you. I doubt we’d have managed to keep this place going without you. And now look, you’ve managed to bring in four other women to help.” His eyes shone with admiration and a renewed hope. “I always said you were an angel, Josephine.”

  “You’re too kind, Sam,” Josephine replied, quietly. “You do just as much as I do.”

  “When I can,” Sam grunted, clearly well aware of his own failing health. “My old bones like to complain whenever they can.”

  She let out a quiet laugh and made to turn away, only to hear the sound of Doctor Thomas’ raised voice.

  “Goodness,” she murmured, as Sam came to stand a little closer. “Is Doctor Thomas arguing with someone down here?”

  Sam frowned. “It surely can’t be someone unwell,” he muttered, his eyes glinting in confusion. “We’re busy, yes, but Doctor Thomas doesn’t send anyone away.”

  Josephine moved forward, a little confused and yet interested to know who it was arguing with Doctor Thomas. The voice sounded vaguely familiar and, as the men came into view, she felt another stab of recognition.

  It was the gentleman who had helped her all those weeks ago, the gentleman who had given her what was more than enough to live on simply for showing him the way to his fiancée’s home. She closed her eyes struggling to remember his name.

  “Baron Dunstable,” she said aloud, moving forward with purpose. “Whatever is the matter?”

  She saw Baron Dunstable gesture wildly, whilst Doctor Thomas shook his head sadly, but with a steely glint in his eye.

  “Might I be of any help?”

  Doctor Thomas looked at her for a moment, something flickering in his expression. Baron Dunstable also looked at her but there was no immediate recognition in his expression. Josephine felt a small wave of disappointment wash over her but she immediately shrugged it away, knowing she was being foolish.

  “Ah, Josephine,” Doctor Thomas said, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. “This is Baron Dunstable. He is asking me to return with him to his estate in order to tend to his mother.”

  A wave of concern washed over Josephine, even though she did not know the lady in any way. “She has the fever?”

  “Yes,” Lord Dunstable replied, sounding frantic with worry. “I have searched London for a full day already, desperate to find a doctor able and willing to return with me but none have been able to do so. I must return this very afternoon but I cannot go back without some help. Please, we are all quite alone.”

  “Do you not have a village doctor?” Josephine asked, seeing Lord Dunstable frown immediately. “Can he not help you?”

  “No,” Lord Dunstable replied, fiercely. “He has bled one of my maids already and she died only a few hours later. He has no idea of what else to do and I will not allow him near my mother.”

  Doctor Thomas sighed. “That is the problem with these country doctors, Lord Dunstable. So many of them are poorly trained and have very little skill but who else can the village folk turn to?”

  Lord Dunstable turned back to the doctor, sounding a little more hopeful. “Then will you come with me?”

  Gesturing to the sea of people lying across the Devil’s basement, Doctor Thomas shook his head. “I cannot leave these people, Lord Dunstable. More of them come in every day and the fever wards are already full. I have people to help me now, which is an astounding blessing given the danger of it all, but I cannot simply turn my back and leave it to them to deal with.”

  Lord Dunstable closed his eyes. “Please,” he said, hoarsely. “I need someone.”

  “I will go with you.”

  Josephine clamped her mouth shut but it was much too late. The words had already left her lips and she found herself staring into the eyes of Lord Dunstable whilst Doctor Thomas, after a moment of thought, began to nod slowly.

  “You?” Lord Dunstable exclaimed, waving a hand. “A scrap of a thing? I highly doubt you can –”

  “I would watch what you say, Lord Dunstable,” Doctor Thomas warned, interrupting the man. “This young lady, Josephine, has done more for these people than anyone. She has helped me in ways I did not expect. It was she who gave me the tonic to help bring the fever down and it has been more successful than I ever expected. She knows everything there is to know about the fever and how I treat it.” He smiled at Josephine, who felt her stomach cramp nervously. “I can give you the medicines to take with you. You know what doses to give and when.”

  Josephine nodded slowly, suddenly feeling very nervous about leaving London and traveling with Lord Dunstable, who still did not recognize her and certainly didn’t seem at all convinced that she would do in the place of Doctor Thomas given the scrutinizing look on his face.

  “I hardly think that a woman can take the place of a doctor,” Lord Dunstable muttered, shaking his head. “Come now. Surely there must be someone else.”

  Josephine lifted her chin. “Either I go with you, Lord Dunstable or no-one does. Surely you cannot expect the good doctor to leave all of these sick folk behind simply to go to the aid of one of the nobility. Their lives are of equal importance, are they not?”

  Lord Dunstable, to her surprise, now appeared rather ashamed. “Yes, of course,” he said, dropping his head. “I would not like you to think that I cared nothing for these poor people.”

  This answer satisfied Josephine, aware that the gentleman was, in fact, simply desperate for help for his ailing mother. She recalled just how kind he had been to her, how he had spoken kindly to her and felt her heart soften.

  “Do you think you can spare me, Doctor Thomas?” she asked, turning to the man who had become something of a friend these last few weeks. “I should have asked you first, of course.”

  Doctor Thomas studied her for a moment, thinking hard. “I think, Josephine, that this is the best solution for everyone involved. I would not want to let you go had you not found four others to come and help me.” He reached for her hand and held it for a moment, and Josephine felt her heart lurch in her chest. “You will come back to the Devil’s basement though, won’t you? Once you are no longer required to help Lord Dunstable?”

  There was not even a moment of hesitation. “Of course I will come back to help you,” Josephine replied at once. “Thank you, Doctor Thomas.”

  He shook his head, patting her hand. “Thank you, Josephine, for all you have done here. I know Sam and I will both miss your caring hand.” A small smile caught his lips. “Once this is over I would like to make sure you are taken care of, for the kindnesses you have shown, Josephine. Don’t think that I intend to let you back out to wander the streets again. I have a small practice and could always use your continued help.”

  Her breath caught, her eyes widening. This had given her a hope for her future. “Thank you, Doctor Thomas. You are very kind.”

  Chuckling, he let go of her hand. “It is just to ensure you return,” he replied, with a touch of mirth that was so absent from their present circumstances. “Now, let me go and see to your things. I will make up extra doses, just in case of more illness.”

  “I – I have three footmen already ill,” Lord Dunstable interrupted, his face white and strained. “And a maid, although I do not know if she had the fever. She simply looked unwell.”

  The doctor frowned. “It often starts with the look of a person,” he said, grimly. “I will make sure to have all you require, Lord Dunstable. Just give me an hour or so.”

  “Thank you,” Lord Dunstable replied, relief etched across his features. “Thank you both, very much.”

  Chapter Six

  Gideon let out a long sigh and put his face in his hands as he stepped out of the Devil’s basement, suddenly desperate for air. He had wasted so much time. It would be the full four days by the time he returned home, praying desperately that his mother still lived.

  Sinking
down onto his haunches, his back against the cold stone wall of the church, Gideon tried not to let fear rattle at him. He had someone, at least, although it was not the doctor he had promised his sister. Yet, Doctor Thomas seemed to have faith that this young lady, this scrap of a thing, would bring his mother just as much aid as he himself would, had he been able to come.

  A hint of shame climbed up his spine, sending heat into his face. Josephine had asked, with a small tilt of her head, whether or not he had considered all these sick people here somehow less than his own mother, and his immediate answer had wanted to be yes. It was not because of his status, he told himself, but a part of him knew that it was almost ingrained within him – that he, being a baron, was worth more than those who worked in the fields and begged on the streets. It was something he was struggling to battle against, seeing that this devastating illness touched them all, regardless of class. Yes, he loved his mother desperately, but how many other mothers lay struggling on the floor of the Devil’s basement? It was not right for him to demand that the doctor come with him, simply to tend to one patient when it was so very evident that his skills were required here.

  Taking his face from his hands, Gideon drew in a steadying breath, feeling almost weak with fear. He wanted to leave immediately but was now forced to wait again, wait until the doctor had prepared his medicines for Josephine to take. The girl had, at least, looked at him with confidence, her green eyes bright with assurance. That, at least, gave him a little hope that she would know what to do when it came to his mother.

  “Lord Dunstable?”

  He looked up and saw Josephine standing in the doorway of the church, a cotton bag twisted in her hand.

  “Miss.....” He realized he had not even asked her name, a little unsure what a gentleman ought to refer to a young woman such as she.

  “Miss Noe,” she replied, firmly. “But I would prefer Josephine, my lord. At times like this, I think such things as the use of correct titles and the like a little.... superfluous.”

  Gideon raised an eyebrow, rather astonished to hear her speak in such an ostentatious manner.

  “You do not remember me, do you?” she asked, her expression a little forlorn. “I thought.....”

  “Remember you?” Gideon asked, a little surprised. “No, I’m afraid I do not. Are you suggesting we have met prior to this?”

  She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes now somewhat sad. “We have, my lord,” she replied, carefully. “But I should not expect you to remember – although you did express your surprise at my speaking back then also.”

  “I – I did?” Gideon asked, struggling to remember. “I must apologize, Miss Noe, for forgetting our first meeting. Things have been rather difficult of late.”

  Her smile was sympathetic, bringing him a sense of relief. “I understand, my lord. And I don’t mind repeating myself. I used to work as one of the maids in a great house near my home. The housekeeper was very kind to me and taught me a good deal. I think she wanted me to be a lady’s maid one day.”

  Something began to niggle at his mind.

  “Not that the position lasted all that long,” she continued, her eyes drifting away from his. “When my parents became ill I was forced to give it up entirely.”

  “And they have passed away,” he said, slowly, a memory beginning to come back to him. “You came to London in search of work and then could not find any.”

  Her eyes flickered with grief. “Yes, that’s right. Do you remember me now?”

  He nodded slowly, amazed to see that this young lady from the streets had now subsequently transformed herself despite the horrendous situation she had been working in. Her hair was tied neatly back from her face, instead of blowing across her face. Her eyes were bright, her expression resolute, instead of the fear and terror that had splashed across her features when he had first spoken to her. Her dress and shawl did not have holes or tears, and her feet were no longer bare. It was little wonder he had not recognized her.

  “You appear in much better circumstances now,” he said, before flushing as he realized what he had suggested.

  To his surprise, Josephine laughed, albeit rather sadly. “Indeed. The Devil’s basement is better than the cold London streets, is it not?”

  A slight frown caught his brow. “I gave you money, did I not?”

  Her green eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes you did, my lord. You were very kind to me.”

  “Then, may I ask,” Gideon continued, a trifle confused, “why you are working here, in the Devil’s basement? I would have thought that, with the money I gave you, you would have been able to find a place of your own. There was more than enough for you –”

  She held up one hand, stemming the flow of words from his lips. “You have been inside the Devil’s basement, my lord. How can you ask me such a thing?”

  Staring at her for a moment, Gideon felt his shame flare. “You have a good heart, Miss Josephine,” he muttered, realizing that the girl had given up the future she could have had with the money he had given her, simply to come here and help those who were in desperate need.

  Josephine looked back at him steadily, a faint hint of disappointment in her eyes. “My lord, I could not turn my back on these people. I have lost loved ones to the fever and I wanted to do what I could to help. That’s why I am here.”

  He nodded, looking away from her. “I see.”

  “I can help your mother,” she said, firmly, aware that he still was a little unsure as to how she might be able to help. “I have learned all I can from Doctor Thomas.”

  “And how many people have recovered?” he asked, desperation beginning to fill him. “How many have you seen manage to overcome this dreadful illness?” He searched her face, seeing her lips thin for a moment, evidence of just how much she hated the disease.

  “Many have died,” she admitted, quietly. “But many have lived as well. The young and the aged seem to be taken the most often – but you must recall, my lord, that these people live in squalor compared to you. They are often weak and ill already.”

  This did not give him a great amount of hope but, seeing that he had very little choice other than to agree, he nodded and led her towards the carriage he had managed to hire. “Then it seems I must put all of my hope in you, Miss Josephine,” he murmured, opening the door and gesturing for her to sit inside. “We will make our way at once and I do not expect to stop particularly often.”

  He made to close the door, only for her to grasp his hand for a moment. Heat shot up his arm and he stepped back, looking at her in confusion.

  “Where is your driver, my lord?” she asked, a little puzzled.

  Clearing his throat, Gideon shrugged. “I have no driver. Not one person could be spared from the estate. I will do it myself.”

  A slight rise of her eyebrows told him that she was rather astonished by this but, to his very great relief, she said not another word, allowing him to close the door. Doing so at once, he quickly attempted to climb up into the driver’s seat, all the more embarrassed that it took him more than one attempt before he was seated carefully in the driver’s seat. Picking up the reins, he held them carefully in his hands and flicked them once, then twice.

  The horses did not move.

  Frustrated, Gideon shook the reins again but still, the animals remained exactly where they were.

  “Might you need some help, my lord?”

  Closing his eyes, Gideon felt his face heat. “No, indeed, Miss Josephine,” he replied, firmly. “I am quite capable, I assure you.”

  A quiet laugh caught his ears and his face burned all the hotter. Trying to push himself into action, he flicked the reins again, just as he would do if he were riding. It was not something he was used to, driving either a carriage or a phaeton, even though so many gentlemen possessed such a thing. He had never had the opportunity to drive a phaeton, since he had been overseas, and as such had very little experience in such matters.

  “Might I try?”

  He l
ooked over his shoulder to see Miss Josephine standing on the pavement, her hands on her hips and her face tipped up to his.

  “I said I can manage, Miss Josephine,” Gideon replied, firmly. “Do go back inside.”

  She did not move. “You have not driven a carriage before, I think.”

  “Please,” he repeated, growing steadily angrier. “If you do not get in then I cannot drive the horses forward.”

  A slight lilt in her voice told him she was laughing at him. His frustration blew into anger, his expression furious as he turned his sharp eyes onto her. This was no laughing matter. He was trying to get back to his mother as quickly as possible and her refusal to climb back into the carriage was only making things all the more difficult.

  “Now, see here!” he exclaimed, climbing down from his driver’s seat with very little dignity or grace. “I am in a very great hurry and if you cannot see that, then I –”

  “Oh, but I can see that, your grace,” Miss Josephine interrupted, putting one hand on his arm. The simple touch seemed to take all of his anger away in a moment as Gideon felt it drain out of him and spread across the ground beneath his feet. “And, for what it is worth, I am trying to help.”

  Closing his eyes, Gideon let the last of his irritation blow away. “What is it you wish to do, Miss Josephine?”

  There was a short silence. Gideon opened his eyes and looked back at her, seeing her green eyes warm as her smile spread gently. “I will drive,” she replied, with a good deal of nonchalance. “After all, it is something I am well used to and I can assure you that, with your direction, we will arrive back at your estate very soon.”

  His mouth fell open. “Drive?”

  She shrugged. “Why ever not?”

  The embarrassment of the situation as it currently stood began to seep into his bones. “But you are –”

  “A woman,” she interrupted, irritably. “Yes, I am aware of that and, as you may well have noticed, my lord, quite capable. I can help your mother and I can drive your carriage. Now, are you going to allow me to do so or not?”