She entered Rose Hill through the kitchen door, and a maid escorted her to check on the sick servant.
“Well, Max,” she said after she examined him. “I believe in another day or two you’ll be ready to resume your duties.”
“Thank ye, miss.”
“The cough may remain for some time but I don’t believe you are contagious. Washing hands for you and everyone else, though, can help prevent or reduce the incident of more illness.”
“Yes, miss.”
Silvia departed the premises and went on her way to the next home on the list of Bruce’s patients.
An older man answered the door to a cottage. He frowned upon seeing her and her bag.
“Mr. Brown? I’m Miss Burnett. I’m here to check on your wife. Dr. Miller is unwell.”
“A woman physic? I don’t think so.” The door slammed in her face.
She knocked again.
The door swung open but now the man held a rifle. “I told you to leave.”
“I am capable of attending to your wife, sir. My father was a doctor, and I’ve been caring for Dr. Miller in his illness as well.”
“And he’s not here, is he?” He huffed. “Fine. Come in.”
When she finished, she went to the next home. Although for the most part they had requested her presence, they were guarded. She couldn’t blame them. She was a stranger and a woman. Why did she think she could handle this task? With her list completed to the best of her ability, she made Dr. Miller her last stop.
4
Bruce startled when Silvia entered his room. He was sitting up in bed, reading.
“Dr. Miller. You should be resting. I’ve come to check your incision and see how you fare,” she scolded.
He didn’t mind. It meant she cared. He put down the book. “Ah, my angel of mercy.” He slid under the covers, grimacing in pain.
“I warned you to be careful.” She pulled back the sheet and raised his shirt.
She removed the bandage and checked the wound. Even he could observe healthy pink skin knitting together under her tidy stiches. Her touch was gentle. She cleansed the area, applied a balm, and re-bandaged it.
“It is healing well.” She sat on the side of the bed to check his temperature and pulse. “Still no fever. Good. Your pulse seems rapid.”
“Maybe that’s because your very touch sets my heart racing.” He wasn’t lying. He wanted more of her touch and recalled her kiss before his surgery. His gaze rested on her lips.
She glanced to the nightstand where a bottle of brandy was. “Hmmm. You’ve taken to self-medicating?”
He shrugged. “I was bored, lonely, and in pain,” he whined. “I admit I went downstairs but was shooed back up here. What did you tell Mrs. Wilson to put her in such a dither? She almost chased me with the broom to get me back in my room.”
“All for the benefit of your healing.” Her soft smile enchanted him.
“You made many visits, I hear. How did they fare?”
She sighed. “They were desperate, or they’d never have allowed me in their homes. You are a much-loved doctor and I’m nobody. I should have anticipated it. Who was I to think I could do a man’s job? Vain and foolish of me. I’m sorry I failed you.”
He frowned. “Failed? You saved my life. Rest and relax. Once they realize how much they need you, they’ll find themselves grateful for your ministrations.” He longed to hold her and comfort her. Why had he never sought her out in the years since those youthful promises? The fact that he hadn’t shamed him. There was much for which to atone. He clasped her hand and gave it a squeeze.
She blinked rapidly as though staving off tears. He longed to take away her hurt.
She removed her hand and stood. “I should depart. I’m glad you’re recovering. I’ll return in a few days. If you need me sooner send someone for me.”
An ache grew in his heart. “You won’t visit me tomorrow?”
“You are healing well. There isn’t much more I can do to speed that process along.”
“I miss you.” There. He’d said it. Maybe the alcohol gave him the courage, but the two days and nights she’d spent by his side had been precious and filled an empty space in his life he’d ignored for too long. “We never talked about your letter.”
“You held my undivided attention for two days without bringing it up. It was foolishness for me to write. Please forgive my faux pas in even doing so.”
“I’m a man who keeps his promises.”
“We were young, and I should have never extracted such from you.”
“I didn’t give my word under coercion. If I remember correctly, it was me who suggested it.”
“You’ve been ill and you’re lonely. Understandable given the amount of work you’ve done lately. You need rest.” She grabbed her bag.
“You’re avoiding the issue.”
“What issue?”
“Marrying me.”
She shook her head. “Bruce, you’ve never proposed, so marriage is not something to discuss. You’re being influenced by brandy and the extended time we’ve been together under adverse conditions. I would not make you a comfortable wife.”
“Depends on the kind of comfort.” He delighted in seeing her cheeks turn pink. “I would guess the memory of our kiss has not left you unaffected. It’s not something I can easily disregard.”
“Rest well, Dr. Miller.” She pivoted and left the room taking all the warmth with her.
Bruce closed his eyes and groaned. Opening them he reached for the glass of amber liquid and managed to take a sip. The warmth brought at least some relief from the ache in his side, but couldn’t do much for the ache in his heart. How did one woo a woman while confined to bed? Lord, help me.
~*~
Marcus visited the next morning. “How are do you fare, Bruce?”
“My health is improving. Silvia’s skill was bang-up-to-the-mark.”
“I sense some melancholia in your words.”
“You remember how helpless it was when you were confined to chambers even after they brought you home from that brutal fight and Josie was nowhere around.”
“Ah, so it’s not boredom that has you blue-deviled, it’s the ministrations of Miss Burnett you long for.”
“Guilty as charged. Marcus, if she hadn’t come to town when she did—”
“You might not have survived.”
Bruce swallowed hard. “Yes. And I enjoy her company more than any other woman I’ve ever encountered.”
“You’ve not spent much time courting any women from what I’ve witnessed.”
“True, but she was a friend when I trained with her father. I was enamored of her, then and since. She was too young, and I wasn’t established. Distance and time spent establishing my practice forced my affections for her into the back of my mind. I never believed I was worthy of her.”
“And you admired her father.”
“He was my mentor after school. I learned much from him.”
“And nothing from her?”
“Even then she possessed more knowledge of some aspects of medicine than I did. She was amazing, beautiful, and she adored me.”
“Why didn’t you propose?”
“I had nothing to offer.”
“You had a job and a home secured.”
“No patients.”
“It took time to earn the trust of the village, but you wouldn’t have been alone.”
“For all that schooling, I wasn’t very smart.”
“Love makes fools of us all sometimes.”
“Am I a hopeless case?”
“You’ve heard all our journeys to the altar: how I lost Josie’s trust, how Michael abandoned his wife after a horrible courtship, how Phillip married and then fell in love.”
“Theo, too. What a twisted journey his was chasing down the Black Diamond.”
“Right, and then Jared, finding love in Scotland while on assignment.”
“Guess my story is not as dramatic as all those.”
> “No, but that doesn’t minimize the struggle you’ll endure to win her heart.”
“I thought I already had it. Did I tell you she wrote me a letter before arriving here?”
Marcus’s eyebrows rose. “No…”
“Years ago, I promised her that if I was available and she was yet unwed at five and twenty, we would marry.”
“What would possess you to do something so foolish?”
“Love. She was too young, and so was I. She’s so lovely I had no doubt someone would have married her by now.”
“You were willing to let her go?”
“Not really…and I’ve buried myself in my patients and my books to try to forget her.”
Marcus remained silent.
“I received her letter before she arrived. I was so excited to see her again. I thought maybe my lonely nights were over.” Bruce sighed. “Not as though I could act on anything right now, should I even desire it.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. You’ve time to get reacquainted and discover if this is really the woman God has called to be your wife.”
“She is. She understands the work. She’d be a wonderful partner in every way.”
“She wrote to you but is not falling at your feet?”
“Silvia”—he closed his eyes to remember her kiss—“doesn’t want to rush anything and is lacking confidence given the reluctant reception by the villagers as she’s tried to help them.”
“That will take time to change.”
“Pray for me and her, will you?”
“Absolutely.”
~*~
Silvia spent most of her nights and some of her evenings in the nursery with the children. Exhaustion plagued her. Michaela was a little spitfire much like her mother and Adam was beginning to walk and chase after his sister, and possessed Michael’s cheeky attitude. The baby, Georgina, was sweet-tempered and while she didn’t need to eat at night, was often awaking and needing comfort due to teething pain. Katrina was a doting mother and Michael often played with his children. She suspected that both would have their hands full when these little ones grew older. She grinned as the baby giggled in her arms. “Oh, you are a sweet little thing, aren’t you?”
The baby drooled and batted at Silvia’s face as the younger two chased each other around the nursery. There was a maid who worked with the children, but it was Silvia who took the nights with the youngest child, having the bassinet in her room so that Katrina and Michael could sleep. She would rock the little girl through her teething pain and weep along at her failure to assist Bruce. Would she ever experience this kind of joy for herself?
He said he wanted to marry me, but he has a misplaced gratitude for saving his life.
I saved his life. I’m not a failure. I did at least one thing well.
More than that. I helped those who sought me out.
And yet, my role is here in the shadows with a child. This is important too, isn’t it?
When the children didn’t need her, she hid away. Sleeping, reading, and avoiding her friend who was far too perceptive for Silvia’s liking.
A week later, she dragged herself from hiding to go visit her patient. After all, she’d promised she would.
5
December 1815
Bruce was at his wit’s end. Messages continued to be delivered asking for him to help those who were sick, but he couldn’t. He needed to heal, but day after day the callers kept coming, and Remington’s footman turned them away.
Resting in his favorite chair downstairs by the fireplace, comfort escaped him as he tried to read. What kind of doctor was he that he couldn’t tend his patients?
A knock came to the door. A footman ushered a man into the room.
“Good day, Mr. Haas,” Bruce said, choosing to stay seated. “What brings you by?”
“I wanted to lodge a complaint about that Miss Burnett who is doctoring in town. It should not be tolerated in our peaceful village.”
“I thought she cared for your wife last week. Has Mary taken a turn for the worse?”
“No. She fares well. But it isn’t proper for a woman to practice medicine.”
Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. “There was naught I could do for you. Miss Burnett is the daughter of the man who taught me about medicine. She is highly skilled.”
“We wanted you.”
“I almost died, and she tended to me. I am unable to leave the house while I heal. Miss Burnett was willing to step in—at a considerable risk to her own reputation—and visit patients. If you want to lodge a complaint then go to Lord Remington. He’s the magistrate.”
The older man blinked rapidly.
Bruce pushed himself up, grimacing all the way and shuffled out of the room. The stairs were a trial. Once back in bed he cursed himself for making the journey downstairs much less inviting the man inside although it was the footman who’d ushered him in. He hated that people were questioning Miss Burnett’s capabilities, but there was naught he could do.
Marcus came to visit him a short time later. “How do you fare, Bruce?”
“I thought I was well enough to go downstairs. I am paying for my foolishness.”
“So, doctor’s orders are only to be obeyed if they come from a doctor?”
“Touché. I knew better.”
“I come bearing bad news.”
“What have you heard?”
“I’ve had a slew of complaints regarding Miss Burnett doctoring in town. She’s not done more than take temperatures and prescribe hand-washing and natural treatments, so she’s not broken any laws so much as curtseyed across them. She’s not compounding medications or performing surgeries. And she’s saved lives. I’m merely unsure how to handle the complaints. The easiest would be for you to recover and resume your duties. How has Miss Burnett been doing given the reluctance of the townsfolk? Has she been to visit you?”
“Not for some time. I think I blew my chance with her.”
“I doubt it.”
“I’m tired, Marcus. I appreciate you stopping by.”
“Rest well, my friend.” Lord Remington left shutting the bedroom door softly behind him.
~*~
Silvia longed for a walk to burn off pent up energy, so she grabbed her coat and hat and took off on foot for Dr. Miller’s home in the village. The day had turned windy, and she held tight to her coat almost wishing she’d though to bring warmer gloves to wear. Dusk had begun to fall by the time she reached the village. Of necessity, she’d need to make her visit a quick one.
As she strode down the street toward the cottage, a carriage pulled up next to her. The door swung open. “Miss Burnett!” Sir McElroy called.
Oh, bother! She turned. “What brings you to Didcot, Sir McElroy?”
“Why you, my dear. I missed you terribly as you certainly must realize.”
“It’s cold and I’m on an errand. I can’t stand in the street talking.”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
“I’m at my destination. Good day.” She strode up the walk to Dr. Miller’s abode and knocked on the door. When the footman opened it, and she slipped quickly inside. “I’ll keep my coat on. I’m quite chilled.” She headed up the stairs and knocked on the door.
A weak “Come in,” was the response from her patient.
She left the door open, and the footman came to stand outside.
“How do you fare, Doctor Miller?”
“Much better now that you are here. I thought I heard voices out the window.”
“Yes, someone passing through town stopped me on my walk here.”
“Isn’t it too cold to be walking?”
“I needed the exercise. You avoided my question.”
“I ache, but it is my own fault for venturing downstairs.”
Silvia frowned. “Disobeying your own orders? You knew the risks, and now you pay the price.” She checked his forehead and the incision, having left supplies there. “Everything is healing well. You’ll be downstairs soon enough. I
t’s frustrating, but you need time to heal.”
He grabbed for her hand as she rose to leave. “Stay for a while,” he implored.
“I left late, and it’s getting dark. I must go.”
He frowned but released her hand. “I’d like it if you visited more often.”
“Coming here alone at all is highly improper.”
“You are walking home? Alone?”
“Seemed a shame to bring a maid out for my need to stretch my legs.”
“Be safe.”
“I carry a gun.”
“I’d feel better if you let the footman retrieve a carriage for you.”
“A waste of time. I’ll be home before he’d return. No more stalling. Good night, Bruce.” With that she exited. She glanced out the front window to find McElroy’s carriage still in front of the house. She strode to the kitchen to Mrs. Wilson. “Is there a back exit and path to take me back to Hart Manor?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The woman gave her directions and Silvia gratefully slipped out the back door, through the garden, and made her way home without any further encounter with Sir McElroy.
As she entered the manor, Sir Tidley strode toward her. “Silvia? You went out?”
“Just to check on Doctor Miller. I needed the walk.”
“Your cheeks are red.” He grabbed a hand. “Your fingers are like ice. Montague?” He turned to the butler. “Send a bath and tea to Miss Burnett’s room.”
“You needn’t trouble yourself, Michael.”
“Yes, I do. Now go, get warm. Last thing we’d want is for you to grow ill.”
She nodded and took the stairs. Upon entering her room, she lit the fire and stood there, still in her coat as she tried to warm up.
Katrina bustled in. “Silvia? Michael told me you walked to Dr. Miller’s. Whyever for? We have a carriage and groom you are welcome to use.”
“I needed to be moving.”
“It’s hard being cooped up in the nursery. You’re used to a far more active life.”
Silvia shrugged. “I used to accompany my father on many of his visits. It doesn’t speak highly of my future that I can’t be content in the nursery.”
“It’s different when it’s your own child. Did I ever share with you all that happened after my father died? How I met Michael?”
The Doctor's Daughter Page 4