Winter's Cold Heart (Seasons Book 1)

by Laura Landon

  Lydia drew a calming hand across her brother’s brow. “I promise, James. I won’t let the doctor remove your leg.”

  Her brother closed his eyes and fell asleep again, clearly relieved by her words.

  “I’ll heat up the stew,” she said, rising from the bed and walking to the kitchen. She didn’t look into the doctor’s eyes. She knew he didn’t agree with the promise she’d made her brother. She also knew she wouldn’t like the censure she would see on his face.

  She’d had no right to make such a promise. She didn’t hold the power to assure her brother that he would awaken with both his legs still attached.

  . . . .

  Lydia heated the stew, then served a bowl to Joshua Jarvis. She filled a bowl for herself and sat across the table from him.

  “You shouldn’t have made that promise to your brother.”

  Lydia absently stirred her stew which gave her something to do without facing the doctor.

  “If the infection takes hold, the leg might have to come off in order to save his life.”

  Lydia shook her head, then placed her spoon on the table beside her bowl. “He won’t survive if you take off his leg.”

  “He might not survive if I don’t.”

  Lydia swiped at the tear that ran down her cheek.

  The doctor reached for a slice of bread and proceeded to butter it. “We have time before we have to make the decision as to whether we can save the leg or not. So, try not to worry yet.”

  Lydia lifted her gaze and locked onto the doctor’s empathetic expression. She saw a kindness she hadn’t expected. A sense of understanding that didn’t go with the rumors she’d heard about him.

  She knew his talk of amputation was only realistic, but she couldn’t bear it. Nor could she bear even speaking of it.

  “How did you find yourself here in Middleton?” she asked.

  The doctor paused eating and looked at her. “When I was studying anatomy, I formed a friendship with two other students—Bennet Chamberlain and Daniel Paulson. Bennet took a position in Russetsville, a village about an hour’s ride from here. Shortly after he arrived in Russetsville, he wrote me that there was an elderly doctor here in Middleton who was contemplating retirement. He thought it was the perfect place for me to start a practice.”

  The doctor caught her eyes and smiled. “I thought it would be the perfect place, too. It was close to Bennet, and not that far from where Daniel had set up his practice. We could support one another. Plus, I never wanted to set up my practice in the city and Middleton seemed the perfect place to go.”

  “I imagine you’ve come to regret your decision, though,” Lydia said.

  “Let’s simply say it hasn’t turned out exactly as I thought it would.”

  “Well, it’s hardly surprising given the unexplained deaths of your two patients.”

  Joshua lifted his cup to his mouth and look a long swallow of the coffee she’d just brewed, then set his cup back onto the table. “I’d like to say there had to be a cause other than my negligence, but I can’t imagine what it might be.”

  “Why were you treating Mrs. Smithers?”

  “She’d come to me with a cough that refused to go away. I’d given her an elixir to relieve her cough and she seemed to be getting better. Then, overnight, she must have taken a turn for the worse. When I went to check on her the next morning, I found her dead.”

  “What about Ivan Crumbly?”

  “His death was more puzzling. He’d fallen off the back of a wagon and had broken some ribs. He also had several cuts and bruises from his fall, but nothing life-threatening. I bound his ribs and took care of his cuts and bruises and sent him home. He worked with his brother at the mill. When he didn’t show up for work the following day, his brother went to check on him. He found him dead.”

  “What do you think he died from?”

  Doctor Jarvis pushed his chair back from the table and rose. He walked to the window and wiped a pane of glass in order to look out.

  “I know this will sound impossible,” he said without turning to face her. “But I can’t help but think neither Mrs. Smithers nor Ivan Crumbly died from natural causes.”

  Lydia struggled to take in what Joshua was saying, but it was difficult. Everyone else thought the two patients didn’t die of natural causes. Now the doctor was admitting it himself? “What do you think they died from?”

  “I think they may have been murdered.”

  Lydia sucked in a shuddering breath. Was he baiting her?

  “I know,” the doctor said. He turned to face her. “You think I’m imagining things. And I don’t blame you. What I’m suggesting sounds impossible.”

  Not impossible, she thought.

  “What brought you to that conclusion?”

  “Several unusual happenings. First, the two deaths happened less than a week apart. And neither of my patients were so ill that they were at death’s door. And…”

  She watched his face change as if a deep worry had just traveled across his brow.

  “There’s another reason, isn’t there?”

  “Yes,” the doctor said, then came closer to the table and sat. “Both of the bodies had a strange smell when I leaned close to them.”

  “What kind of strange smell?”

  “Very similar to a smell I know to be arsenic.”

  “Have you told anyone this?”

  Joshua shook his head. “Arsenic is a staple in any physician’s chemistry cabinet. They were already hurling accusations, why would I give them my assessment and put the final nail in my own coffin?”

  “That’s all? Two unexplained deaths? That’s all it took for all of Middleton to turn against you? I would have thought—”

  “It was as if I’d brought the plague to Middleton. No one came to me with even a scratch to take care of. They even stepped to the opposite side of the street when I approached.”

  Lydia shuddered. It must be a horrid thing to endure. And now she was adding her own condemnation, even after she’d watched him carefully treat her brother. And her own banged up head.

  If she were honest with herself, her own observations coupled with her brother’s clear support of the man were giving her every reason to admire Joshua Jarvis. Not condemn him.

  “I’m sorry I said such horrible things to you earlier,” Lydia said.

  A sad smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I can’t blame you. I’m simply surprised that your brother insisted that you come for me.”

  “I’m not,” she answered. “James has always been a good judge of character. He’s never been one to follow the crowd mentality. He said he was sure Doctor Weatherby would take one look at his leg and cut it off, whereas he’d have a better chance of saving his leg if you took care of him.”

  “Good judge of character, eh? Then, I’d better do everything I can to live up to his high expectations.”

  The doctor rose from the table. “Would you bring in some of your stew and I’ll see if I can’t get your brother to eat a bit?”

  Lydia watched the doctor leave as she filled a bowl with some stew, mashed it to a consistency easier for James to manage, then followed him.

  What was there about this man that drew her to him even against her own suspicions? What was there about him that caused her stomach to churn and every nerve in her body to tremble?

  She didn’t know, but it had to mean something. The turmoil his very nearness prompted meant something she didn’t feel equipped to battle. After the way she’d guarded her heart these many months, she felt it was only safe to resist any and all temptation. But in truth, if guarding her heart had been her mission, she feared she’d already surrendered.

  Four

  Joshua fed Lydia’s brother as much as he could get down him. He followed that with anything liquid James McDowell would drink. When he finished providing as much nourishment as he could, he concentrated on changing the bandages on the fellow’s wound.

  He wouldn’t fool himself. McDowell’s wound wa
s severe. Joshua had cleaned it several times, reaming out the most inflamed tissue in an effort to stave off infection. There was nothing more he could do to assure McDowell or his sister that he could save McDowell’s limb. Not with the medicines he had at hand.

  “Is there anything more you need?” Lydia asked from the opposite side of the bed.

  “No. I managed to get him to eat and drink a little, so that’s a good sign. I’ll keep changing the bandages in hopes of stifling the infection.”

  Lydia rose from her brother’s side and went to look out the window. “The snow has stopped.”

  “That’s good. I need to go out to feed and water my horse.”

  “I’ll sit with James until you return,” she said, then walked to the basin and tidied the nightstand.

  There was something very fragile in the way she moved, very delicate in her demeanor when she sat on the edge of the bed to place cloths on her brother’s forehead.

  “What made you leave your home and come to stay with your brother?”

  Her hand paused in the act of rinsing a fresh cloth.

  “I… um… James was alone, and needed someone to help him with the farm.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Joshua said. “But why do I think there is more to the reason you came here?”

  “Why would you think that? Not everything is a puzzle, you know.”

  “If you say so,” Joshua answered. He couldn’t help but smile. “So your brother was lonely, and his good-hearted sister put her life on hold and rushed to his little cottage, just because he asked?”

  The lady placed her trembling hands in her lap and clenched them tightly. Whatever her reason, it was no doubt difficult to talk about.

  Joshua didn’t think she was going to answer him and was just about to put on his coat and go to the barn when she breathed a deep sigh.

  “He didn’t ask. I came to live with my brother because I couldn’t stay with my parents any longer.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I found it impossible to face my mother’s looks of pity and my father’s expressions of frustration because he couldn’t do anything to help me.”

  “Why did your parents feel pity and helplessness?”

  “If you must know, I was engaged to be married to a man I’d known my entire life. We grew up together and never doubted we would marry. But…” Lydia paused, then breathed a heavy sigh and softened her tone. “On the night before our wedding, the man I was to marry eloped with my best friend.”

  “I see.”

  She lifted her gaze and looked him in the eyes. “My father is the vicar in Staybridge, and he and my mother have always been the most loving parents any children could ask for. There has never been a hint of scandal or disappointment attached to any of us.”

  Lydia rose from the bed and finished rinsing the cloth. “But, everything changed that day three years ago.”

  “Did you love him?”

  Lydia shrugged. “To be honest, I’d never taken the time to think about it. I always thought I did, but now, I’m not sure what love is. I know I liked him. But now I…”

  “You dislike him,” Joshua finished for her.

  She lifted her head and locked her gaze with his. “No. I feel nothing at all for him. Sometimes I can’t imagine that I ever loved him.”

  Joshua studied Lydia’s serious expression. There was something haunting and painful in her eyes. Something that told him she’d been hurt so badly that she’d lost much of her self-esteem. “So you came to live with your brother to start over.”

  A smile brightened her expression and her eyes shone with happiness. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but yes. I came to help James because I needed to start over. I needed to escape the expressions of pity, and find the happy, confident person I used to be.”

  “Then I hope you find that person.”

  “Thank you,” she said in a firm voice. “I hope I find that person, too. I liked her much better than the person I’ve become.” She turned briskly. “But now you must wade through the snow to save your trusty steed from starvation. So off you go.”

  She whisked his scarf off the wall peg and flung it around his neck with a flourish. He grasped at the tails as they swung into place and caught her hands in the process. Instinct had him instantly releasing her hands, even as regret tugged at him. Her move had been whimsical, uncalculated, completely disarming. And if he hadn’t dropped her hands so quickly he might have had a moment to revel in it.

  But if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. With a wink and a nod he donned his coat, gloves, and hat and left for the cowshed. The snow had indeed stopped and the sun was shining.

  He was surprised to realize that he felt better than he had in a long, long time, and he owed it all to Lydia McDowell. She wasn’t nearly as forbidding as she’d led him to believe.

  . . . .

  Joshua watched Lydia tend her brother for the next two days, keeping him comfortable and forcing him to drink cool water even when he didn’t want to. She cajoled him into eating more of the stew she’d made in an effort to keep his strength up. Outside the wind gained strength, whipping each new snow flurry into picturesque drifts of white that buried every pathway and lane.

  He rejoiced at her pleasure when her brother woke and even spoke to her. They had an enduring bond of sibling love and support that was gratifying to see.

  “I’m sorry you can’t escape,” James groused at her one morning after Joshua finished cleaning his leg and putting fresh bandages over his wound. The air was fairly blue from the epithets that spilled through James’s gritted teeth each time they had to repeat the painful procedure.

  “And just where would I go, I wonder?”

  “Back to Mama and Papa, of course.”

  Joshua turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder, curious to hear her answer.

  “Why would I do that?” she asked.

  “Well, Jarvis’s torture does bring out the worst in me. And whatever you do, do not tell Papa what you’ve heard here.”

  “You’re right. I’m not used to hearing such colorful language, but I’m certain even Papa would excuse you if he saw the dreadful state of your poor leg.”

  “Is your father so straight-laced?” Joshua asked.

  Lydia turned her attention to where he stood at the foot of the bed. He was making more bandages from the sheet she’d given him.

  “No,” Lydia and James answered in unison. “But he’s never allowed any of us to use profanity,” James finished.

  “By the way, brother dear, just where did you learn such language anyway?” Lydia asked.

  “Where did I learn it?” James chuckled. “Do tell, sister dear, when did you begin to understand they were even off-color words? Hm?”

  James grinned and dropped his head onto the pillow with a deep sigh.

  Joshua stepped around the bed and placed his hand on her brother’s forehead.

  ”Keep doing what you’re doing and we may save that leg yet. That means rest.”

  “An excellent idea, Doctor. I do believe that something to quiet this lad’s wayward tongue is in order.”

  Lydia’s face was scrunched in a mock scowl as she walked to the bedside table and mixed James something for the pain. She helped him drink it, then sat at his side until he fell asleep. When she seemed sure he was asleep, she and Joshua left the room. Lydia sank into her comfortable chair and Joshua walked to the parlor window.

  “Is he going to be alright?” Lydia asked.

  “Yes, he’ll live. I’m not sure yet that he’ll keep his leg.”

  Lydia looked weary as she brushed curling tendrils of hair from her pretty face. “James has never been one to sit in idleness. It will kill him if he can’t work.”

  “There’s all manner of work that can be done with just one leg. But let’s hope we can save it.”

  Lydia lifted her head until her gaze locked with his. He was startled to see how she seemed to take such courage from his sim
ple words. He slowly took several steps until he stood in front of her. Unable to stop his hands from reaching for her, he held them out.

  Lydia placed her hands in his and let him pull her to her feet. He drew his hands slowly up her arms until they rested on her shoulders. How good it felt to draw her close.

  “If I had a sister, I’d hope she’d care for me like you care for James.”

  Lydia laughed. “You want a sour, bossy old maid for a sister?”

  His smile felt a bit crooked. “No,” he said. “I’d want a sister who cared about me as much as you care about James.” His thumbs began to knead her shoulders. “I’d want a sister whose intelligence and wit would keep my days from such damnable ordinariness.”

  He lowered his chin, bringing his eyes closer to her, feeling the rightness of his words.

  “I’d want a girl who—”

  With the slightest pressure of his hands he urged her closer.

  “You mean you’d want a sister,” Lydia whispered.

  “I mean…I’d want a woman,” he whispered in return.

  He lowered his head, and with her eyes riveted upon his lips, he touched her lips with his.

  He forced himself to keep his hands from pressing her closer, but she came of her own accord. She placed her arms around his waist and leaned her face against his chest. There was no doubt that she must be able to feel the rapid pounding of his heart that raucously increased its pace until it raced as if there were a team of eight inside his chest thundering to win a race.

  Joshua Jarvis gently placed his finger beneath Lydia’s chin and pressed upward to encourage her to lift her head. He caught her gaze with his and slowly lowered his head until his mouth covered hers.

  Her lips were warm, lush, soft, and alluring in a way that stirred him. His kiss escalated into the hungry melding of two people who had just discovered a passion that had lain dormant between them. A passion he knew he’d felt in the first hours she’d stood at his side tending her brother.

  Joshua deepened his kiss, showing Lydia the magnitude of his feeling for her. He kissed her again and again as his arms kneaded her shoulders, causing her light shawl to slip away. He was aware of her in a way he’d never experienced before, barely controlling the desperation that threatened to conquer him. Like she was conquering him.