by Abigail Agar
“Shall I take you outside?” she asked, gesturing towards the balcony.
“I should love nothing more, I think,” he replied.
She did just what she had said and rolled him out.
The first waft of fresh air hit Ronan’s face, and it was like breathing for the first time. He had missed this. It was remarkable to enjoy the freshness of the outdoors when he had spent so long stuck inside, trying to heal.
“You have done something incredible for me,” he said, looking up at Miss Philips. She glanced down at him with her green eyes that suddenly appeared so wise to him.
“It was the least I could do. You were unhappy. I thought this could help,” she said.
Ronan chanced to take her hand for just a moment, giving it a squeeze of gratitude before letting it go. She was one of the nicest young women he had ever known.
Chapter 9
Lavender was just reaching the doctor’s own office when she remembered that he had not yet seen her wheelchair contraption. She wished that she had drawn out the plans for it so that he could have a better idea of what it looked like than simply hearing her descriptions.
She was more than ready for him to see the wheelchair in person, but for now, Lavender had to be content with simply telling him all about it. He would be coming to the estate in two days, now that he visited only once each week. But she had questions for him and was looking forward to having a moment alone instead of trying to ask while he was visiting the marquess.
“Ah, Miss Philips! To what do I owe the honour?” he asked upon seeing her.
“Good afternoon. I was hoping to speak with you,” she said, giving a curtsey.
“Of course, please come in. Are you well? Is this a visit regarding health trouble?” he asked.
“No, no, nothing like that,” she said. “It is actually that I should like to know more than I do in regards to medicine. I find it fascinating, and I know that a woman may not practice as you do, but you also know much about tinctures and tonics that may be used in the home.”
“I do, yes. Are you seeking any particular recipe or just a few staples to have available?” he asked.
“The latter. I have many that my father always had around, such as his tincture of rosemary, ginger, and turmeric for joint pain and his blend of fennel, lemon balm, and mint for digestion,” she said.
“My goodness, you really do know what you are speaking of. And turmeric? You have managed to get roots from abroad, I see?” he asked.
“My father had some dried that I was able to use. I cannot afford such luxuries now, but I fear that it has lost much of its potency,” she confessed.
“Indeed, it likely has. But there are many recipes that I can help you with. And if you need something else for joints, I can certainly recommend a few other herbs,” he said.
“Thank you. I should like that very much. I know it is not quite the same as this scientific medicine which you practice, but I am eager to do all I can to help in the home,” she said.
“In the estate, you mean? Or in your own home and with your family in the future?” he asked.
Lavender blushed and glanced away.
“Both, I suppose,” she said.
“Very well. I am happy to help. And I still use a great many of those things, although the world of medicine is constantly changing and advancements are being made. But, if I may tell you a secret, I am still fondest of the remedies which have been used for thousands of years,” he said as if conspiring with her.
Lavender laughed, grateful that he would help her and that they were of a similar mind.
“Now, we must have a look through my cabinet so that you can decide what you wish to make. Oh, here is a good one,” he said, pulling down an amber vial.
“And if there is anything else which may help the marquess, I should like to know that as well,” she added.
“You have already done much for him. You knew how to relieve his pain, and you are also doing much to fight off infection. I was impressed by your garlic compress,” he said, referring to one other attempt she had made to help prevent infection.
“It was another trick of my father’s,” she said.
Just as they were starting to look through more of the remedies the doctor kept on hand, the surgery door opened, and a young lady entered with her chaperone. It was clear that this woman was one of a high position in society.
“Ah, Miss Foster,” the doctor said, sounding less than impressed by her arrival.
At once, Lavender’s head snapped up, giving her full attention to the young woman. She was statuesque with a long, lean body, dramatically curved. She had lovely, golden hair and piercingly blue eyes set above her sharp cheekbones. If she had not been so beautiful, she might have been frightening.
Lady Foster looked at Lavender and then glanced away as if she held no interest at all. Immediately having disregarded Lavender, her haughty expression fell into one of weakness and pain.
“Oh, oh, Doctor!” she said dramatically.
“Yes, Lady Foster?” he asked, still uninterested but giving her his attention.
“I am quite frightened. I am faint and out of breath. I fear that I am dying. My lungs, they simply cannot get air,” she said as if it were truly a moment in which she was going to die.
“Is that so?” he asked.
“Indeed, I fear that this is the end for me,” she said.
“I highly doubt that, Lady Foster. You are going to be perfectly all right,” he said, with only enough warmth to convince the young woman that he cared.
“What must I do?” she asked in a whimper.
“Come with me,” he said, leading her through the door into the room he used to examine patients.
Lavender waited outside with the governess, who looked positively miserable.
“I like your broach,” Lavender said.
“Thank you. It was one of hers,” the chaperone said. “A cast off.”
The last part was added bitterly, and Lavender understood that she spoke of herself as much as she was speaking of the gem.
A few moments later, the doctor and Lady Foster returned from the room.
“Oh, thank you, Doctor. I thought I was going to die. Thank you for saving my life,” she said, still quite dramatically.
“You are not going to die. And now you know the problem for next time,” he said.
“Yes, of course. I shall not bother you with this again. Truly. And my father shall send you money for this,” she said.
“It is not necessary,” he replied. “I did nothing more than your handmaid might do.”
“No, you did so much more. You saved me,” she said.
He gave a terse smile, unwilling to argue his point any further. And then, Lady Foster and her chaperone departed.
“That foolish woman,” he said.
“I have heard of her before,” Lavender said.
“Yes, I am sure that you have, living in the Beckman estate. Lady Julianna Foster is as foolish as a young woman can possibly be,” he said.
“Is that so?” Lavender asked.
“Indeed. There are few women ridiculous enough to come to me claiming they are dying when they need only loosen their stays,” he said.
Lavender could not help laughing. Lady Foster had tightened her stays too much? That was a perfectly normal occurrence with young women in London. But to assume that she was dying because of it? That was nonsense. It made perfect sense why the doctor was annoyed by her visit.
“So, she had tightened her undergarments to the point that she could not breathe, and she was unable to figure out the problem for herself?” Lavender asked.
“The sad part is that I am sure she knew the problem. But now, she can tell everyone that she had to see the doctor because she was feeling faint. They shall worry and fawn over her, thinking she is ill. She will not tell them what the problem truly was,” he said.
That level of manipulation was horrifying to Lavender. She could not believe that someone wo
uld be so desperate for attention that she would do this.
“You work with many men and women of society. Are they all so petty?” Lavender asked.
The doctor laughed and then sighed.
“Many of them, yes. There are the good ones, the ones who are not so self-involved. But they are few and far between. I have a great deal more patients like Lady Foster and Lord Beckman than those who have a character like yours,” he said.
“The marquess has actually quite improved,” she said.
“Oh? Is that so? I am glad to hear it. Do you mean simply his health or his behaviour as well?” he asked.
“Both. He has grown kinder. I cannot say exactly why, but he said it is because his friend pointed out how awful he was being,” she said.
“Well, that is a relief. I worried for you, having to care for him when he was being so unpleasant,” he said.
“Yes, he is doing much better now,” she replied.
“And I hear that your wheelchair was rather magnificent. His mother reported it to me. I am glad that he can now go out onto the balcony and move about the floor of the house at least,” the doctor said.
“Yes, it is better, and his mood has continued to improve as a result,” Lavender said.
“So, what do you think? Is he going to need you much longer?” he asked.
“Ha! I doubt that. I am not entirely sure what is at the end of this, however. With my friend, Miss Stevens, getting married, I do hope they allow me to stay on as a maid even after he has recovered,” Lavender said.
“I am sure they shall. They will not be rid of someone so helpful as you,” he said.
Lavender hoped that he was right. But there was something about this visit to the doctor that was bothering her a great deal. She tried to pretend that she did not know what, but the truth of it was painfully glaring.
The reality of what bothered her was simple. It was Lady Foster.
The marquess had been pursued by the beautiful woman and had cared enough for her that he wished to court her. There was no reason that it ought to have bothered Lavender. Why would she care whom her employer loved? It did not matter.
And yet, it did. For some strange reason, she found herself longing to know what it was like to be pursued with interest from him. She could not understand why and scolded herself against it. After all, he was a terrible man.
He was arrogant and rude, self-interested, and mean. He cared nothing for others’ plights and trials and only wanted to pay attention to his own needs. He believed that he deserved to have the world bow at his feet.
But then, she remembered that moment on the balcony. When he had squeezed her hand in gratitude as he had looked up into her eyes, and they gleamed with emotion because he was finally being given what he wanted most. He had left his bedroom.
He might have been simply hurt, that he was upset and angry about everything that had taken place. Could she give him grace for that? Could she let go of her anger and the fact that he had hurt her feelings? Or was she going to allow herself to grow bitter as well, to hate him for his arrogance even as she tried to help him heal?
It was all dreadfully confusing, and Lavender wasn’t sure what to do. She only wanted to prove to herself that she was better than him. She was kinder, more loving, more gracious. She did not need to cater to his whims, but she also did not need to be equally self-interested.
And his eyes. His eyes and his loose, nearly black curls. They still impacted her every time she saw him. She fought against it, fought against any thought of him being attractive.
But if the marquess ever ended up courting Lady Foster, Lavender thought she might burst.
Chapter 10
It had been five weeks since the attack. Just over three weeks since Miss Philips had come to help him in his recovery. And Ronan felt as though much more than his legs had begun to heal.
Something was shifting within him, something about his heart changing and becoming new and fresh and different. What was happening? Why was this happening? What had Miss Philips done to change things, and was he a fool for giving her the credit?
Ronan wondered how it had all come to this. How had he ended up this happy, this at peace? He was still hurting from the rejection that he had faced from Lady Foster, the woman he had thought he was coming to care for.
But even with her negligence of him, Ronan was growing more and more at peace. He was actually all right with the fact that she had left him behind. In some ways, he thought that it was better for him. It was better that he knew her flippancy now than waiting until after courtship, betrothal, and marriage.
Indeed, he was shocked that he was feeling so much better in so many ways. And as he sat on the balcony once more, with Miss Philips in a chair beside him, he sipped his tulsi tea and looked over at her.
“I would like to say something,” he began cautiously.
Miss Philips looked at him dubiously as if she expected that this would not be a positive interaction. He felt bad that she was not immediately put at peace.
“I first wish to tell you that I am feeling a great deal better,” he said. “I did not expect my recovery to happen this quickly. And while these past five weeks have often felt like an eternity, and it has been a torment having to stay in bed even now as the season is beginning, I am surprised that I am doing this well.”
“You really have made great strides. I know that I did not see you for the first week or more, but you have made excellent progress since I have come. It is evidence of your determination and strength,” Miss Philips said.
“I disagree,” he said.
She looked uncomfortable as if he was going to scold her again for being wrong about it.
“It is not due to my strength or determination. I rather credit you with the swiftness of my recovery,” he said.
Her brows shot up.
“Me?” she asked in surprise.
“Indeed, you. You have given me the strength to get through this, and you have had the answer at every turn. When something new arose, some new complication or something which was going to set back my progress, you figured out how to make it better,” he began.
“It is simple medicine, really. Nothing that requires schooling,” she justified.
“But you not only knew what to do with the medicine, you knew how to lift my spirits. You crafted this wheelchair even though you were told I could not leave the bed. You figured out a way to ensure that I had the freedom to escape my captivity,” he said.
“I have only done what little I can do,” she said, blushing beneath her freckles.
“And I am thankful for it,” he said, tenderly. “I am sorry for having been so awful at first. I really was at my worst. No matter how arrogant I have always been—and likely always will be—I am embarrassed that I was so rude to you at the start.”
Again, she appeared surprised, but Miss Philips did not look at him now, humbled by his apology. Ronan wished that he could express himself better, tell her how much he really did appreciate her. He felt as though there was much more he wanted to say but could not quite put his finger on what it was. He was not entirely certain he had the words. Or, if he did have the right words, he did not think he had the courage to share them.
