He blinked again and screwed up his face. ‘For the foundlings. Yes. Of course.’ The corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes dropped to the notes on the table. ‘For the record, I don’t prefer Clarissa. I thought I did—not so long ago—but as usual I was quite mistaken.’
‘I see.’ What did that mean? Did it mean he preferred her or did he not think of either Beaumont that way? Ask him. ‘Probably for the best. Clarissa has her heart set on a duke.’ That was just mean. Ask him. ‘How long will it take your brother to return from Dr Jenner’s?’ Bella found herself turning away and refolding an already folded sheet rather than bolt for the door as she wanted to, hoping he would pick up the mantle and continue the awkward conversation and help her make it all right.
He didn’t.
‘Hopefully by the end of the week. In the interim I need to try to convince the people to agree to the vaccination.’
Ask him.
‘Friday would be the perfect opportunity. It’s market day. Everyone comes into town on market day.’
‘That’s a good idea.’ His eyes searched her face and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. ‘Not that I was going to, of course, in view of our academic friendship, but yesterday...I apologise if I gave the impression I was going to kiss you.’
‘It was my mistake. Put it down to inexperience and the painful awkwardness of being Clarissa’s bluestocking sister. As I said, I am not good with men.’
‘I see.’ He looked confused. For a moment it appeared he might say more, before he offered her a tight smile. ‘I’m glad we cleared that up.’
‘Good. Then no harm was done.’ Then why did she want to cry? ‘I shall go and check that list.’
Chapter Twelve
Bella avoided him for the rest of the week, or he avoided her. Either way, they were like ships passing in the night. A brief hello. The odd question. Nothing longer than a few seconds snatched between other tasks which they both found more pressing to do whenever they were close by. He went back to using her title and she stiffly replied with his. To compound the issue, aside from Molly and her rapidly healing broken leg, the infirmary was as silent as a grave. The outbreak of chickenpox had been minor and, with no new patients suffering that or any other ailment, there was precious little for Bella to do. Despite that, she still came to the foundling home religiously every day, admitting to herself the draw was more to do with the handsome and now decidedly aloof doctor than the desire either to improve her own mental state or to quench her thirst for knowledge. If nothing else, the fraught atmosphere had served to occupy her thoughts to such an extent, the incident rarely skittered across her mind. She was too busy chastising herself for being such an irrational and pathetic dolt.
Joe now seemed to occupy her mind as if he had moved in and had no intention of moving out again. During the day, Bella spent most of her time hoping to see him and wishing she knew how to undo the damage she had done to their relationship. At night, wholly different thoughts occupied her head, usually revolving around their almost-kiss and scandalously wondering what it would have felt like if he had kissed her.
As depressing as it was, she did take heart it was progress of sorts. A few short months ago the merest thought of a kiss would have been abhorrent, because it would require being in close contact with a man. However, now that Bella had been in close contact to Joe and had liked it, the prospect wasn’t quite so daunting. No doubt it helped that her assailant had not tried to kiss her. He had been too busy clamping his filthy hand over her mouth in case she screamed, and too eager to violate her body, to try. It also helped that she had never been kissed before by any man, so, like driving a curricle or mixing medicines, it had begun to intrigue her. Although only with him.
Dr Joseph Warriner.
The man who had no desire to kiss her back and, thanks to her irrational, panicked behaviour, no longer showed any great desire to speak to her either.
Bella sighed and glanced at the mantel clock for the fourth time in as many minutes. It was nearly five minutes to ten o’clock. With any luck, there would be a decent enough crowd in the market square ready to hear Joe’s speech about the threat of smallpox and the need for immediate vaccinations, a crowd large enough that he wouldn’t notice her watching from afar.
Since Monday, notices had been posted around Retford and Joe and his family had been spreading the word to such an extent there had been an expectant buzz amongst the market traders when Bella had hurried across the square earlier. He had wisely decided not to disclose all the facts beforehand, as he wanted to cause neither unnecessary panic nor rampant, unhelpful gossip. Those important details would be shared this morning when he outlined both the problem and his intended solution. Bella intended to listen to it from the steps of the foundling home. Out of the way of both the crowds and the wary and bemused blue eyes of the handsome doctor whenever they came to rest upon her. She took a fortifying breath, steeled her shoulders and headed out of the ward.
Nobody in that huge crowd wants to hurt you.
And he doesn’t want to see you.
Splendid.
There was indeed a crowd. A very large and noisy one. The entire population of Nottinghamshire appeared to be crammed in the tiny market square. At the far end, on the wooden platform which had been hastily erected, stood Joe flanked by his two elder brothers, the Earl of Markham and Captain Warriner. It was the Earl who brought the meeting to order on the dot of ten.
‘Thank you all for coming here today.’ The many conversations around the square began to peter out and he waited for complete silence before he spoke again. ‘As some of you already know, there are grave reports of an epidemic of smallpox in Nottingham. So far there have been near a hundred deaths. As of this morning, we have heard news there are now cases in both Mansfield and Southwell.’ He paused to allow the gasps and exclamations to die down. Allowed the fear to settle in their minds. ‘The disease is edging closer. In just a week it has travelled ten miles both east and west. In a few more weeks, perhaps less, it will have made its way here, too. Fortunately, my brother has a plan to stop it.’
Bella watched Joe step forward and saw his posture stiffen. Only those who knew him well would realise he was nervous. To everyone else here in the suddenly silent market square he would appear calm and in control. But Bella saw the way his hand clenched at his side, the way those magnificent broad shoulders rose and fell with his measured breathing as he tried to steady himself, and her heart went out to him. Part of her wished she were also stood on that platform beside him, offering her support and her strength. The old Bella would have been. She would have stood tall and proud, standing up for what she believed in and what was right. Except doing it now was inconceivable as it would mean being the centre of attention and exposed to danger rather than invisible and safe. It would also undoubtedly filter back to her father when he returned and alert him to her duplicity. Selfishly, it was much better if she kept her distance, although her cowardice under the dire circumstances didn’t make her proud. Shame, she now realised, left a foul taste in the mouth.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, shortly my brother Jacob will return from Gloucestershire, where he has been sent to procure enough of Dr Jenner’s vaccination to protect the entire village. His vaccination is proved to render all those who have had it completely immune to smallpox within a few days, even if directly confronted with the disease. Because he sees it as necessary and would not see any of you put at risk, my brother Jack has already paid for all of you to receive it. There will be no cost to yourselves.’
The poorest in the square were relieved, she could tell, and many were already nodding their assent. One man, Mellor, the respected local constable, spoke out. ‘How do we get our hands on this vaccination?’
‘As soon as it arrives, the doors of my surgery will be open and I would like to see every person and every child not yet inoculated against smallpox so that I can administer the treatment. If you have been previously inoculated, there is no need to w
orry. You are already protected and have no need of the vaccination. I should be able to administer the treatment swiftly to everyone as long as you all make yourselves available here as soon as you receive word. Dr Jenner’s miraculous vaccination is quick, simple, relatively painless, and will render you safe from smallpox for ever.’ The crowd all began to mutter at once, both in excitement and trepidation, forcing Joe to raise his voice. ‘Time is of the essence. The swifter you are all vaccinated, the more effective the protection will be in the event of the deadly smallpox making its way here.’
‘If it makes its way here!’ Dr Bentley’s voice boomed from the edge of the square. ‘You are creating panic where none is needed. Retford has been free of the disease for twenty years and there is no reason to assume it will come here this time. We will build bonfires at the boundaries, as we’ve always done, and burn tar to purify the noxious air. Those precautions have always been good enough.’
‘Bonfires will not stop smallpox. All the research lends itself to suggest bad air does not transmit the disease. It passes through human contact. Retford is a market town and close to the Great North Road. We come into contact with strangers all of the time.’
‘We haven’t had an incident in twenty years...’
‘This town has doubled in size in twenty years! We are no longer the quiet provincial village visited by the occasional travelling carriage. As many as fifty people stop here each week on their way to and from the new factories in the north.’
‘I’ve been practising medicine since before you were born, boy. And I know these people better than you. I will not see them hoodwinked by a charlatan.’ The throngs of people parted as the elderly physician made his way slowly towards the platform, scowling at the three Warriners before him as if they were a plague rather than single-handedly trying to prevent one. He stopped just shy of the platform and turned to face the crowd. ‘I suppose once again the illustrious Dr Warriner is intent on experimenting with his miraculous stable muck. Am I right?’ He turned his head slightly, his expression derisive. Whispers of the words stable muck were audible though the crowd, causing doubt in the people’s minds. Dr Bentley was very pleased to see it. ‘No doubt he has told you already he intends to use cowpox on you rather than the proved method of using smallpox itself. People weren’t meant to be tainted with the blood of beasts. I prefer to fight fire with fire than experiment with people’s lives.’
‘There is no experiment.’ Joe’s tone was measured. Reasonable. ‘Dr Jenner is a highly respected physician who was given substantial funds from the Royal College of Physicians to continue his work with his vaccination. It is proved to repel smallpox in every instance...’
‘But do you deny it is made from the infected pustules scraped from a cow’s udders?’ Dr Bentley was quaking with indignation. ‘You would infect the blood of the good people of Retford with bovine blood. Cow’s blood! You would hide the consequences of that action, too, no doubt! Did he tell you all what his vaccination entailed?’ Heads began shaking with indignation. ‘I thought as much. These Warriners are all the same!’ More nods and some blatant hostility now came from parts of the crowd. ‘Thank goodness I was here to educate them about your intentions and allow them the opportunity to make an informed choice before they succumb to your quackery, Warriner.’
‘Is this true, Dr Warriner?’ Mellor had pushed his way to the front, his beefy arms folded. The constable had a firm but fair reputation in Retford. He didn’t suffer fools gladly—in fact, was known to deal with any shenanigans briskly and without much finesse—but if he agreed with you, then the people followed his lead.
With more patience than Bella would have shown, Joe attempted to explain. ‘Cowpox is caught from cows, that is true, but it is a human disease, too. It has been around for centuries. It is a harmless disease in both man and beast, causing at most a mild malaise which quickly dissipates. It is also true that those who have had it are rendered immune from contracting smallpox. Those who work with cows have known such for decades. Dr Jenner merely found a way to pass that immunity on to the masses. He conducted a series of experiments many years ago and was able to categorically report the effectiveness and safety of his vaccination. Thousands have received it with no ill health whatsoever.’
‘Really?’ Dr Bentley rudely turned his back to Joe and addressed the crowd instead. ‘In the short-term, this young man is right. To an extent. But the revered, and now very wealthy, Dr Jenner is very close-mouthed about the lasting effects.’
‘That is because there are none.’
‘Of course!’ Dr Bentley laughed cruelly. ‘The horrific tales of the vaccinated sprouting horns which they have to file down and hide beneath their hats are exaggerated?’
As it was meant to, this comment caused a great deal of commotion from the gathered locals, the majority of whom were illiterate farm workers who were conditioned to take the word of their betters as gospel. In their minds, age went hand in hand with wisdom and they were easily swayed by Dr Bentley’s lies. That doubt would be their undoing unless Joe could convince them otherwise.
‘They are lies.’ Joe shook his head in disbelief. ‘Ridiculous stories put about by Jenner’s critics to put people off his cure.’
‘Then you admit this quack Jenner has many critics. Why, pray tell, is that?’
Bella closed her eyes and shook her head. Joe was playing into the old fool’s hands by admitting Jenner’s methods were controversial. He needed to stick to science. Reiterate the facts. The logic. Let them know, in no uncertain terms, what he was proposing was the truth and that Dr Bentley’s accusations were ridiculous.
‘People are resistant to new ideas...’
‘Or perhaps they choose to ignore the man who was awarded a medal from Napoleon?’ The crowd gasped in unison. ‘Why would Dr Jenner be honoured by Bonaparte—the sworn enemy of England and murderer of many of our brave English soldiers—unless he was in cahoots with the French?’ Joe was denied the opportunity of continuing his answer to the preposterous accusation because the Reverend Reeves was now marching across the square holding up a Bible like an amulet and followed by a small battalion of parishioners carrying banners. For the benefit of those gathered who could not read the banners, they had been crudely illustrated with pictures of frightened people sporting horns. This caused a cacophony of noise from the onlookers, who were now quite distressed at the sight of both the church and the town’s oldest physician protesting Joe’s plan.
‘“All flesh is not the same flesh, but there is one kind of flesh of men, another flesh of beasts.”’ The Reverend Reeves took his place next to Dr Bentley. ‘Corinthians!’
A terrified hush settled as he glared at those amassed. One bony hand pointing to Joe and his brothers on the platform. ‘The Warriners are the devil’s own henchmen! They are abusing the tragic situation in Nottingham to do his bidding. Any who succumb and take this vaccination will be punished by the Lord!’ He raised one quivering finger heavenward. ‘Like the devil himself, you will be marked with horns and doomed to burn for all eternity in hell!’
What happened next could best be described as chaos. Joe, the constable and his brothers tried to calm the crowd but kept being thwarted by the joint interjections of the Reverend Reeves and Dr Bentley. For several minutes, all Bella could do was watch it all unfold, feeling helpless and increasingly furious at the scene. Angry faces and angrier words were exchanged in the square. Captain Warriner jumped off the platform and stalked towards his father-in-law with murder in his eye, only to be restrained by the Earl of Markham. Joe stood impotently, trying to be heard over the ruckus while the people surged forward as one mass towards the platform like a swarm of wasps.
Out of the corner of her eye Bella spotted a familiar dark head arrive at the periphery of the square, sat on horseback and staring in shock at the nonsense unfolding. Before she could think better of it, Bella dashed down the steps of the foundling home and grabbed him by the leg. ‘Jake! Follow me. I have an idea.’
/> Chapter Thirteen
Joe had no idea who threw the first punch, but the minor scuffle in the centre of the square was quickly turning into a full-blown fist fight involving close to ten people.
Jamie and a few of Joe’s loyal patients were in the thick of it, although in Jamie’s defence he had been walking away reluctantly moments before and had then been attacked by a screeching woman wielding a placard with Joe’s face painted crudely on it accompanied by the words ‘“Evil men and impostors will proceed from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived.”’
He knew the words well. They were one of the Reverend’s favourite Bible quotes when denouncing the wicked Warriner family once a month from the pulpit. Although Joe had expected some hostility at his proposal, he certainly had not anticipated this debacle. His attempt at protecting the people of Retford was in danger of doing exactly the opposite. Unless the warring crowd could be brought to order, then he feared nobody would agree to the vaccination and an epidemic was imminent.
What a mess. One he could have and should have handled better. But how to make it right now, when fists were flying and his town meeting had descended into little better than a barroom brawl?
‘Excuse me. Excuse me, please.’ The proper and curt feminine voice was one he knew only too well. ‘Excuse me!’
Bella squeezed out of the crowd in front of him, closely followed by a petrified-looking Mrs Patterson and his highly amused brother Jake, who must have just returned. Something about her haughty demeanour reminded those close by that she was a lady. The daughter of an earl. A few even removed their caps in deference to her rank and stood awkwardly as she regally climbed the three wooden crates which served as steps up to his platform, apparently oblivious to the small riot behind her.
A Warriner to Tempt Her Page 13
