Not that he didn’t sometimes secretly admire Ella’s sweet ways. After all, her mother had seemed a woodland creature when he’d met her and fallen in love…
But his duty as a father took precedence and he was certain that the daughter of a London educated physician should be a proper young lady with all the corresponding manners and affectations. Especially now that he planned to write letters of invitations for the holidays to colleagues who either had sons of a good age or who they themselves might be in need of a wife. Not that he was in any great hurry to lose her, but it had begun to feel selfish to keep her so confined. Elethea would make an excellent doctor’s companion and had a strong understanding of the demands of the profession. She would never complain of her future husband’s long hours away on calls or in his study.
He smiled as he turned the corner up the lane to the gate of their home.
I’ll have her engaged to a doctor before next summer, perhaps destined to live in a grand town or even London! My Ella will see a little more of the world and have a good life.
And I will wean the locals off their insistence on calling for a young girl when they break a bone and have a good life myself.
Chapter 6
Elethea spotted her father coming up the walk and took off her apron to welcome him. He liked a smooth and orderly transition whenever he returned home and she knew that after a long night, there was even more of a need for domestic tranquility and bliss to greet him.
Which meant she would not ask after Mr. Blade Hambly.
Even though her heart was pounding in her chest at the nervous hope that Blade had asked about her followed by an equally horrifying fear that Blade had asked about her.
She smoothed her hair to try to tuck an unruly curl away from her face.
“Elethea,” her father said as he held out his coat, hat and doctor’s bag to her. “Tell me there’s dinner and a warm fire waiting for me in my study.”
“Of course, and even a cup of cinnamon and honey laced cider, Father. Did you walk home from the Mermaid?”
“I did. Thackery allowed me to leave my horse and buggy there when I realized she’d pulled up lame in my race from the Carrols. I may have to hire a replacement while she heals but what a rough night.”
She shook the damp from his things before hanging them and then shifted to follow him down the hall to his study. His bag was far lighter than when she’d packed it for him two days ago and so she knew not to leave it by the doorway. She would reset and restock his supplies to prepare him for his next call.
“The weather is supposed to improve for the festivities. Gran is convinced that All Hallow’s Eve will be clear and beautiful.”
He gave her a hard look. “Your grandmother is not a seer when it comes to weather and what do we care? A doctor must go out to his patients in all kinds of weather so it matters little to me and since you are absolutely not going out for the local festivities, I fail to see why it’s worth mentioning.”
Ella’s breath caught in her throat at the harsh edge to his words but she knew that when he was tired, he was prone to saying things he often didn’t mean. She could only pray that his edict forbidding her to venture out on the most sacred holiday in her spiritual calendar was one he would retract—or forget making.
“I brought it up as a hope for your comfort. You may go out in all kinds of weather, Father, but all kinds of weather do not agree with your bones and if you come down with a cold, then what will we do? Though I could tend to you…”
He shook his head firmly and headed for his favorite chair near the fire. “You are very sweet to offer, dearest. But we already have a physician in the house, so the good news is that I would not have to travel far to physic myself!”
“Yes, Father.” Elethea did her best not to sigh. She put his wig on the stand on his desk and then brought him his tea. “I’ll have dinner brought in. Gemma has outdone herself with a mutton pie, so promise you’ll say kind things to her.”
“I so swear.” He took a slow, reverent sip from the mug. “Oh, that warms me to my toes!”
“It’s the cinnamon. It’s very good for your circulation.”
He closed his eyes. “Rubbish.”
Ella smiled and retreated with his doctor’s bag and headed toward the kitchen.
“I’ve got it ready, Miss Ella! Though I would bet my Christmas penny that he’ll be asleep before I get it to him!” Gemma said merrily as Elethea came through the doorway. The kitchen of the house was warm and tidy with the smell of autumn spices permeating the air. “There’s fig tarts there if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you, Gemma. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“Ah, then! Since you’ll never need to find out, let’s pretend the walls would tumble down about your ears!” Gemma laughed and then covered the plate to keep the stew warm. “Why don’t you go back to bed yourself, Miss Ella?”
“I took a nap when I got home this morning.”
“You look far too pale to me, Miss Ella.” Gemma came around the table with her tray. “You should eat, too.”
“I will take a plate after I get back from my walk.” She kissed Gemma on the cheek and then slipped from the house, the need for fresh air and freedom far too powerful to be ignored. She retrieved her bonnet, coat and shawl to ward off the damp chill in the air and waved a quick farewell.
She walked away from the house in the direction of the wilds.
On her way back that morning from the Mermaid’s Kiss, she’d gone through the village with the intended excuse to stop at the apothecary’s for the latest gossip on the great families gathering in the castle but also to assure herself that there were no whispers about a certain Blade Hambly’s fate. Naturally the talk with her dear friend Brighid had begun with word of Allantide and the Samhain celebrations ahead and then onto the stirring in the woods. The Circle had already begun to whisper excitedly of the holiday ahead though things were tempered with new reports of the ghostly screams of the late Lady Banfield. The curse on the Castle Keyvnor’s last lady was difficult to ignore and as her spirit was lingering in agony, Ella knew that Gran wasn’t the only one hoping that this All Hallow’s Eve would be the last with the blame laid at the wrong doorsteps for the family’s fate.
But then the conversation had taken another turn.
There was much talk of the fine young ladies who had arrived at the castle. Mrs. Lillman had seen their traveling clothes and bonnets and there was much chatter regarding the vast number of trunks and happy speculation about how many lovely gowns must fill them.
“How many beautiful dresses do you think they have?” Brighid had asked breathlessly.
Elethea didn’t know the answer. But something inside her had shyly retreated and she’d failed to share with Brighid that even she had seen them herself briefly on a chance encounter in Bocka Morrow two days before. She couldn’t find the will to just smile and play along and admit that Mrs. Lillman had not exaggerated their beauty or the elegance of their dresses and coats.
Perhaps because one glimpse of Lady Claire Deering and Miss Jane Hawkins followed by polite introductions had made Ella feel terribly self-conscious about the somewhat shabby and old-fashioned state of her own clothes.
Before that moment, tramping about the countryside collecting herbs and roots, tending to her father and to their home and quietly doing her best to offer what aid she could when asked to her fellow man—she had never really given much thought to the state of her hems or the wear on her shoes.
It was wrong to covet according to the Christian god. Elethea sighed and put aside her envy of the beautiful young ladies inside Castle Keyvnor and their fine possessions. For it was not their gowns and slippers she truly ached to have…it was the right to sit across a table from Blade Hambly. It was the chance to be a natural part of his world and to be at ease in his company.
Gran would have her cast for it, to stretch out her wishes into a prayer or invocation for luck. Gran thought nothing was beyond a woma
n’s reach and that any attempt for happiness was a thing to be encouraged. But Ella wasn’t as sure.
The Christian god said it was wrong to covet something that was not yours.
Blade Hambly was absolutely not hers.
He isn’t, but when Brighid asked if I had any news or had seen anything of interest, I selfishly kept word of him to myself. I said nothing—of how ill he was, how handsome or how…he is even now at the Mermaid’s Kiss recovering. He isn’t mine, but I certainly didn’t wish to share one word of him, did I…
She walked out along a path that climbed up to open to a small clearing and gave a haunting view of the castle in the distance.
Coveting was wrong.
She wondered what woman awaited him there. Was she worried for his safety? For his well-being? Was she pacing even now, tearful and anxious for the man she loved? Was she strong and sweet? Was she kind? Would she smile when he strode into a room to welcome him?
She was no doubt the most beautiful woman to ever draw breath. She would be well-educated and know how to dance and play a musical instrument. Her hair would be smooth without a single rebellious curl. She would have hands as soft silk to cradle his face, hands that had never clawed through the earth or scrubbed stone floors.
She sighed. Blade Hambly deserved no less.
Ella reached down to pull up some grass and then added some dried flower petals from her coat pocket. “Never a witch in want,” she whispered. She looked toward the castle again and then closed her eyes and held her hand up with a fist of grass and flower petals clenched to her palm.
“Whoever you are who waits for him, be comforted.”
She tried to summon the image of a lady but her mind stubbornly refused to give her form. So she sighed and gave in to an impulsive wish.
“He is not mine to make happy but oh, Aine’s tears, I wish him happy.” She opened her palm to allow the wind to empty her hand. She opened her eyes to watch as the dried petals made a brief defiant dance on the breeze and then drifted out of view. “And I wish I could be happy, too.”
Rain threatened to fall, and Elethea turned back toward home. It didn’t matter what the Christian god said. The heart wanted what it wanted…
And her heart was ignoring the realities of what a girl with mud on the hem of her dress should be eyeing—and there was no calling it back.
As predicted, her father had fallen fast asleep by the fireplace in his study before Gemma placed the plate on his desk. Elethea repacked her father’s bag, adding new clean cloths and making sure his supplies were in order. Gemma quietly put the first floor bedrooms in order and Elethea helped her with the dusting and bins until at last her father awoke in a much improved mood to eat and settle behind his desk to review his papers.
After dinner, he announced that he was heading back to the Mermaid’s Kiss to check on his most important patient.
“Your bag is prepared, Father,” Elethea said.
“You may come along, Elethea. I wish you to carry the lantern and keep me company on the walk. Also, you can see to Mrs. Thackery since it was made clear that you didn’t have time to do so yesterday. It’s important to keep your word, dearest.”
“Yes, Father.” Ella blinked in surprise at the invitation. “I should have…thought of it myself and asked to go with you.”
“Of course, there’s no need for you to bother Mr. Hambly with your presence, Elethea. Mind me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He made no mention of you when he regained his senses so you should be very relieved.”
She nodded and waited for even a tendril of relief but it never came. “His fever was very high. I would be more surprised if he had any recollection of the day at all, much less of a nameless attendant.”
“It’s for the best, dearest,” he said more kindly. “The villagers are less discerning and have accepted your attendance on them, but a man like Mr. Hambly will not be so receptive or understanding. He would be mortified to realize a young woman had seen him in such a state!”
Ella nodded. The events had been rewritten, just as she’d offered, and her father was taking full credit for Mr. Hambly’s recovery, just as he should. He’d even justified it exactly as she had by wishing to shield Blade’s pride. There was no gain to be had in seeking more acknowledgment from her father. But something in her was restlessly miserable at how smoothly she would be set aside. Again.
Gran would know and she will be very proud of me!
“I’ll fetch my things,” Elethea said and then made quick work of getting ready. She grabbed her own medicine bag and supplies for Mrs. Thackery’s poultice and then raced to meet her father at the bottom of the stairs before they headed out into the cold night air.
I’m not to see him.
But oh, how I wish it were otherwise…
Chapter 7
“What a delightful thing!” Sally Thackery clapped her hands.
“You must hold still, Mrs. Thackery,” Elethea said as she unwrapped the woman’s ankle resting on her lap.
“Oh, I’m as right as rain,” Mrs. Thackery said with a smile. “Except I’ve been missing all the excitement—what with the comings and goings around here! But now you’ve come and I’m tickled into dots to see you, Miss Ella!”
“You’re shameless, Mrs. Thackery.” The chiding had no bite at all and they both knew it. Sally Thackery was a good-hearted gossip and an unapologetic collector of all tidbits of information great and small. The locals jested that if a child lost a tooth, it was Sally Thackery who got word before the mother and then made sure the fairies were set to steal it.
“I am. So let’s have it! Jolly’s useless at these things and so nervous about catching a fever that I swear he’s not only bathing in salt water as you bid, but he’s put salt in his socks! Silly thing!”
“Salt is very good at purifying things but…he’ll harm his skin if he’s not careful.”
“Phhst! I like the smell of his boots better so let’s not spoil things!”
“I’ll make an ointment for Mr. Thackery’s feet that will make them smell like fresh mint and will help his bones not ache when the weather turns.”
“Oh, no.” Sally crossed her arms. “That is to say, I’ll take that ointment but you aren’t going to distract me so easy then! Tell me about the handsome young man upstairs.”
Elethea wiped off the last of the poultice from her patient’s ankle as she spoke. “Father said he is sure to make a full recovery.”
“Yes, yes, but is he pretty?”
Elethea laughed. “Yes. He is very, very pretty.”
“You think he’s got a sweetheart?”
Elethea nodded. “He must have. A man like that?”
“Was it like a novel? Was he calling out for her in his delirium? You know…in the throes of it?”
“Sally Thackery, you are a wicked thing! No. He did not…”
The memory of Blade asking her to help him count the stones, calling her his angel, derailed her thoughts and a strange silence gobbled up her words as her throat closed with an unnamed emotion.
“What’s that, dear? Are you all right?” Mrs. Thackery prompted.
“I’m fine.” Elethea shook herself, finished removing the bandage and set Sally’s foot gently on the floor. “You are free and mended, Mrs. Thackery. So I expect when next I see you that I can simply ask you to tell me about your guest and all the delightful details of his every waking moment under your roof and it is you who will have the answers.”
“I am thorough!” Mrs. Thackery boasted as she stood to retrieve her stockings and shoes. “I’ll have to do my best to catch up though once they all meet for the will’s reading on Saturday next, they’ll be off like partridges at a gunshot.”
“Yes,” Ellie stood as well, trying not to think about missing Blade once he’d returned to his life in London and beyond. “I’ll go see if my father is ready to go home. It was a long night and I think he needs to be off his feet.”
“Off the feet, off
the feet!” Sally sighed. “If he’s anything like me, you’d have to wrestle him to the ground, Miss Ella.”
“We’ll see,” Elethea retrieved her bag and left Mrs. Thackery to finish getting ready to rejoin the chase. “Good evening, Mrs. Thackery.”
“Good evening, dear!”
Elethea closed the door behind her. Left to her own device, she began to head up the stairs to the first floor to seek out her father when Elethea heard his voice drifting up from the common room. She peered over the railing and realized that the dear man was enjoying a pint and the praise of the locals. The men were hailing him as a hero for saving the next Earl of Banfield’s life and in their eyes, he was now nothing less than the man of the hour. Her father was preening merrily at the attention and Ella sighed.
It was good to see him happy—to see her father feeling appreciated. He worked hard and often without much notice, a situation she could completely empathize with in light of her own invisible state.
She stepped back, hesitating. The modest and prudent choice would be go downstairs and wait for him out of sight on a bench in the inn’s entrance. The bold and impulsive choice would be to peek in on Mr. Hambly while her father was distracted below.
She stepped to the door of Blade Hambly’s room and waited for prudent reason to speak up.
It did not make a squeak.
She leaned over to listen and press her ear against the wooden surface, trying to ascertain if Blade were asleep.
There was no sound.
She quietly opened the door just an inch or two to peer inside. He was abed and very still. His breathing even and untroubled. A single candle burned on the table next to the bed.
He was asleep.
What harm could there be?
She tiptoed inside, heart pounding.
But at the sight of his face, her fears subsided. His color was so much better and if he had been beautiful to her before, he was even more so now. His brow was dry and she was so relieved to realize it, she had to press her fingertips against her lips to keep from sighing.
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