Authors: Nancy Herriman
Thankfully he had misunderstood who it was she’d been hoping to spot. “I heard that Dr. Castleton and his sister were coming for dinner. He is the physician taking over your practice, correct?”
“The same. A very skilled physician and good friend.” He glanced down at what he could see of his cravat. “That looks excellent.”
Actually, the knot looked lopsided. “My father would be appalled if I had fixed up his neck cloth so poorly. He was very particular.”
“Would your father have another saying for this situation?” he asked.
“Perhaps something along the lines of taking the ax out of the carpenter’s hands, because I am certain there is someone in this household more competent at tying cravats than myself.”
“I would not be so sure.” He paused as if he’d had a sudden thought. “You know, Miss Dunne, Dr. Castleton is very interested in Ireland and would certainly enjoy hearing your father’s sayings. Perhaps you could join us after dinner this evening, talk with him about Ireland. Tell all of us about your homeland. I’ve never been. I would like to hear about it.”
Join them? Rachel knew his offer was merely polite generosity, because joining them was impossible for a woman like her. Though a piece, a tiny piece low in her heart, wished desperately that it were possible, and not just so she could satisfy her curiosity about Miss Castleton. She would love to belong in his company, be an equal, be valued as such rather than looked upon as a poor Irish woman in need of charity.
Oh, Rachel, you may as well wish for a storybook hero to come and rescue you
.
“I would greatly enjoy visiting with your friends, but obviously I cannot. I doubt Dr. Castleton would be much diverted by my conversation, anyway.”
“He would likely be very diverted, especially by a woman as intelligent and capable and sensible as you are.”
Sensible. Perhaps not the trait she wished he would see in her.
CHAPTER 10
Will you be leaving your excellent cook behind, James?” asked Thaddeus, his thick, dark sideburns shifting as he grinned. “My wife would love to have her.”
“I’m afraid, Thaddeus, Mrs. Mainprice goes with me,” replied James, signaling Molly to clear the remainder of the dessert from the dining room.
Thaddeus leaned back and patted his mouth one last time with the napkin. Molly whisked it away before it barely had time to rest on the tablecloth. “The boiled capon, the turbot, the
haricot verts almondine
. . . most impressive.”
“And the marvelous raspberry-and-currant tart. Do not forget that, Thaddeus,” said Miss Castleton, seated beside her brother. Blonde and fine-boned, deceptively fragile-looking, she shimmered like dew upon fields of spring grass in her gown of layered lime-green muslin. A beautiful display. And though she had complimented the meal, she’d hardly touched any of it. James knew her thoughts lay elsewhere. On marriage.
To him.
God, show me the way out of this without offending a friend
.
“I’m glad you both enjoyed the meal,” James said. “I will relay your compliments to Mrs. Mainprice.”
“If you change your mind about taking her to Finchingfield with you, just let me know.” Thaddeus shook his head. “Ah, James, every time I think about you leaving, I still refuse to believe it. And in less than a month. Though I should have been expecting you might finally decide to go. Your father did want you to take over the property.”
“He did.”
Though I’ve been far from ready
. As much as the doctoring had worn him down, the responsibilities . . . the duties he would face in Finchingfield were even more wearying.
James smiled at Thaddeus and his sister, who did not need to know the conflict churning in his head, nor would likely care. “If all goes well, my departure will be sooner than a month. My assistant is rapidly cataloging the library and the contents of my office, my father’s property in Finchingfield is being repaired and repainted, and my patients have all been informed—”
“And I can hear them now: ’How dare that Dr. Edmunds leave us to the likes of Dr. Castleton! He has no bedside manner and will likely kill us all off within a fortnight.’”
“None of them have protested as yet.”
“Furthermore, there’s Finchingfield itself,” Thaddeus continued, warming to his subject. Miss Castleton sipped quietly from a glass of lemonade and tried to look disinterested, though James knew she hung on every word. “A lovely area, no doubt at all. And your family’s house is grand, if a bit tumbled-down. But you’ll be bored in a month’s time,
maybe a week’s time, pottering around in the garden, ambling down country lanes occupied by nothing more than farmers’ wagons and country wives on their way to market, counting the hours to your next meal or the days to a visit by the local parson.”
An itch developed along James’s torso, an itch of irritation. He had heard this commentary repeatedly from Thaddeus since he’d told his friend about his decision to leave London and his thriving practice.
“I shall enjoy the clean air and quiet,” James insisted. “And I will finally have time to actually read all the books I’ve amassed in my library.”
“All you need to complete the picture is a dog at your feet, cozy by the fire. Well, that shall be thrilling. Don’t you agree, Louisa?”
“Actually, Thaddeus, country air does sound like a most pleasing change from the air of London.” She smiled prettily at James, willing him to see how eager she was to join him there.
James gave her a noncommittal nod, sipped from his glass of seltzer, and stayed quiet. The countryside would never suit her. Louisa Castleton was born to the city like a bird was meant to fly.
“Louisa, I do believe you’ve grown bored with London,” said her brother, lifting his brows but not looking truly surprised at her comment. “I never thought that would be possible.”
“Indeed. It’s become rather tedious. The countryside would be most charming. Of course, I would wish to come to town every so often. As you are here, Thaddeus.” She sounded as if she’d rehearsed her plans for some time. “But I know nothing of Finchingfield. You’ve been there, but I
never have. Perhaps Dr. Edmunds will be so kind as to invite me someday.”
She turned her gaze on James, and he saw the desperation in her eyes. James’s grip on his glass tightened. He blamed Thaddeus for letting his sister cling to the hope they would wed. Blamed himself for not rectifying the mistake earlier. He refused to marry out of obligation. He had done that before . . . and failed miserably.
“Molly,” he called out, bringing the maid back into the dining room. “Dr. Castleton and I are ready for our cigars. Also, could you send for Miss Dunne? I would like her to escort Miss Castleton to the drawing room and keep her company until Dr. Castleton and I are finished.”
He felt, rather than noticed, Miss Castleton brighten.
She must be thinking that the awaited time has come
.
“Yes, sir,” Molly replied, placing the inlaid wood cigar box at his side and hurrying off.
“Who is Miss Dunne?” asked Thaddeus. “The name sounds Irish.”
“She’s the assistant I hired. Very intelligent, disciplined young woman.” Who had weighed next-to-nothing when he’d carried her in his arms, tucked against his chest. He had held her closer than he’d needed to. James swallowed some seltzer. “She is a cousin of an old friend of Mariah’s. She was in need of a job for a short while, until she becomes established in London. She plans on teaching, I believe.”
“Sounds as though she has quite won you over, this Irish teacher,” stated Miss Castleton, voice taut, her face maintaining a polite smile while her eyes hardened.
“If by ‘won me over’ you mean I’ve come to appreciate
how competent she is, then yes, Miss Castleton, she has won me over. And I’m happy to have helped her. Her family has encountered financial difficulties, forcing her to seek employment here.”
Thaddeus clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Like so many of them. The Irish are coming by the droves off steamers. There must be hundreds of them settling around St. Giles. Turning the place into a stinking hole, if you ask me. They show up at my front door during my one hour of seeing charity patients with their grimy children or drunk husbands and think I can cure them.” He scoffed. “What they fail to realize is if they would live in clean surroundings, not packed cheek-by-jowl like herring in a jar, and abstained from their drink and their other foul habits, they might not contract every known disease.”
His sister was nodding in agreement.
“I doubt they enjoy the surroundings they find themselves in, Thaddeus,” James said, seeking to defend a people he had paid little attention to in the past. Miss Dunne’s people. “We must help them where we can, even if all we do is offer treatment and advice. If they wish to improve their condition, the best will manage.”
“I do wonder if they know how to work hard enough to do so. Soon they’ll overrun the city, and then what will the rest of us do? They bring disease along with increased crime. I’ve heard from several colleagues that the cholera has returned among the immigrants and poor on the East Side. Soon it will be in the slums of St. Giles, mark my word. And that is coming too close for comfort.”
“I didn’t realize the cholera had returned,” James said, gleaning the one piece of significant news buried within
Thaddeus’s diatribe. “I have been so preoccupied recently, I hadn’t heard.”
“A case here or there.” He looked over at his sister. “There is no need to worry, Louisa. It’s a disease that prefers the poor, as you know. You will be perfectly safe, so long as you stay away from St. Giles.”
“Oh, Thaddeus, I pray it stays there!” she said, her cheeks paling. “Do you recall that my lady’s maid lost her sister to the cholera in March? And so quickly. She died in less than twelve hours. Horrid, wretched disease. I shall insist upon leaving London if it spreads.”
“If you truly feel the need, Louisa, I shall make certain you do.”
A knock sounded on the doorframe and Miss Dunne entered. She wore her usual drab frock, but her hair blazed in the light of the chandelier, rich as flames, attracting the eye. James wondered if she knew how she demanded attention. Even Thaddeus was staring at her.
Courteously, James stood, catching Miss Castleton by surprise that he felt the need to do so. Catching himself by surprise as well.
Miss Dunne has won me over
. “This is Miss Dunne. Might I introduce Dr. Castleton and his sister, Miss Louisa Castleton?”
Miss Dunne’s gaze flicked over Miss Castleton. He would pay money to know what those eyes saw, what that mind thought.
She gave a quick curtsy. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. What did you wish, Dr. Edmunds?”
“Could you show Miss Castleton to the drawing room and make sure that refreshments are brought up? Coffee
and whatever else Mrs. Mainprice believes appropriate. Dr. Castleton and I shall be joining her there shortly.”
Thaddeus pulled back his sister’s chair and she rose, imperious. What she thought of Miss Dunne was evident in every rigid line of her face. “Take as long as you need, gentlemen,” she said. “I shall be perfectly all right in the company of this . . . charming young woman.”
“Please come with me, Miss Castleton,” said Miss Dunne. She was better at keeping her opinions concealed.
“A lovely young woman,” said Thaddeus, once they left the dining room. “For a creature of her class.”
How easily Thaddeus had placed Miss Dunne, assigned her the compartment all the newly arrived Irish occupied whether they belonged in it or not. James found it far more difficult to classify her, though. Was she the draw of an undertow? The soft murmur of twill skirts brushing across leather boots? The faintest scent of some wild Irish flower he had smelled on her hair when he’d carried her away from the injured apple girl?
Or something else entirely?
“Cigar?” Opening the cigar box, James withdrew one and held the box out to Thaddeus.
Thaddeus grinned at his cigar. “Ah, I shall miss these. Tell me that after you’ve married Louisa, you’ll let me come to Finchingfield House to smoke your excellent Havanas.”
“We need to talk about that, Thaddeus.” James lit his cigar off a chandelier candle and pulled in a long hot breath of smoke. The taste, which he usually enjoyed, was sour in his mouth. “I have no intention of asking Louisa to marry
me. I don’t intend on asking anyone to marry me, ever. I am sorry. Tell her I’m sorry.”
“A widower for the rest of your life . . . what an idiotic plan.”
“The reality, Thaddeus, is that marrying again would be the wrong thing for me to do. I don’t need another wife.”
“You do need a wife, like any sane man does. Even I finally gave in. Louisa would make the perfect mistress of your household. She is lovely, accomplished, well spoken. Knows not to mind what sort of hours you’d keep. I don’t understand why you are so unwilling to have her.”
“Because I do not love her.” A voice from his past haunted: “
Do you love me, James?”
He wasn’t sure he could love anyone.
“Is love a requirement for marriage?” Thaddeus asked, far too coolly. His wife was quiet and proper, an excellent hostess and calm companion, admired but not adored. Like most wives James knew.
“It is a requirement for me.” James flicked ash off his cigar onto a plate taken from the sideboard. Ash showered across the plate, off the edge, and onto the table.
“And what of Amelia? If you remarry, you could finally remove her from your sister-in-law’s care and bring her home. I know Mrs. Woodbridge has done a marvelous job, a task many a woman has done for a deceased sister, but Amelia needs both a mother and a father.”
The earlier itch along James’s spine returned. “Sophia will be moving to Finchingfield House with Amelia, once the house is ready for them. She will have the both of us then.”
Behind a thin curtain of cigar smoke,Thaddeus’s eyes took on a pitying look. “I’m sure Mrs. Woodbridge is more than
delighted with that arrangement. She shall never have to leave Amelia’s side.”
“Sophia loves Amelia like a mother. The child is all she has, since her husband died. I can’t just force the girl away from her, and Amelia wouldn’t ever want to leave Sophia.”