Marrying Miss Hemingford

by Mary Nichols

  He stood looking at her, waiting for her to say something. He had thought she was different from the rest of her kind, sympathetic, not minding that her clothes were bloodied; she had talked to him about his work, said she wanted to help, had given him money and defended him, though he hadn’t asked her to, but what had that amounted to? Nothing when it came to understanding him and how he went about his work. A large part of it was educating people to look after their bodies and not abuse them, but he was fighting a losing battle over that, just as no one listened to him when he maintained cleanliness was essential to good health. What had made him think Miss Hemingford would be any different?

  ‘I came to thank you.’

  ‘I did nothing.’

  ‘Not for want of trying. Would you please send your account to this address?’ She handed him one of her aunt’s calling cards. ‘It will be paid promptly.’

  She was as stiff with pride as he was, he decided. ‘There will be no charge.’

  ‘Your coat was ruined.’

  ‘Mrs Armistead will clean it.’

  ‘I remember you said that you charged the rich who could afford it, in order to finance your work with the poor. You should make no exceptions or you will continue to struggle. We shall expect an account.’

  ‘I do not ask for payment unless I have earned it, Miss Hemingford.’

  She should have left then, turned on her heel and gone without another word. Words could be used as weapons, could convey anger, impatience, contempt, could hurt and she was seething with a desire to utter them. She stood three feet, perhaps four, from him, but it might as well have been miles. The chasm between his life and hers was too deep and too wide to be bridged. And she had been a fool to think that it could. ‘I do not wonder that you have no patients except the poor,’ she said. ‘They are obliged to put up with your incivility if they want treatment, but fortunately my aunt does not.’

  He looked hard at her, wondering why she stayed. ‘Then may I recommend she consults a doctor more to her liking.’

  ‘That is your advice, is it?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘And presumably you charge for advice?’

  He laughed suddenly, but it was a hollow sound. ‘Why are you determined to give me money? Is my poverty so obvious?’

  ‘I am not concerned with your poverty or otherwise,’ she snapped. ‘I was thinking of Tildy Smith and all those like her.’

  ‘Very well, I shall send your aunt a bill, but I shall not press for payment if she declines to honour it. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.’

  ‘You have no patients today.’

  ‘I have patients every day, but on Sundays they do not come to me. I go to them if they need me.’ He indicated the papers on the table, the inkstand with its pot of ink, his quills and sharp knife. ‘And I have notes to write up.’

  ‘Then I will not detain you, but do you mind if my aunt sits in your waiting room while I go to find a cab? She should not be walking home.’

  ‘Of course.’ He bowed and went to open the door for her.

  But there was no need to go looking for a cab. Major Mancroft had returned with his curricle and proposed to convey Mrs Bartrum home in that. ‘We abandoned the picnic,’ he said. ‘Everyone was concerned for dear Mrs Bartrum, and no one felt like going on with it.’

  ‘I am sorry for that,’ Mrs Bartrum said. ‘I am completely recovered, as you see.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I shall convey you safely home and then let everyone know how you are. They will be congregating at the Assembly Rooms for tea later this afternoon.’

  ‘Then I shall join them.’

  ‘Aunt, really, you ought not—’ Anne began.

  ‘Fustian! A little rest and a change of clothes is all I need. I have never been one to make a fuss over my health and I do not propose to start now.’

  Anne remembered Doctor Tremayne’s advice. Had he been hinting there was something wrong with her aunt, or was he simply being over-cautious, or giving as good as she had served out to him in angry words? She did not want to alarm her aunt, but perhaps she ought to see a doctor, one that knew how to treat susceptible ladies.

  But her aunt seemed so well, and, by the time she had rested, had two cups of tea, eaten a honey cake and changed into another gown, she seemed her old self. Anne concluded that her aunt knew more about her own health than anyone else. Later Major Mancroft arrived in a light chaise to escort them to the Assembly Rooms at the Ship and Anne decided to try to put the enigmatic doctor from her mind.

  Chapter Four

  The Old Ship’s Assembly Rooms, consisting of a ballroom, dining room and card room, were crowded with those who considered themselves Quality, all talking loudly and with evident authority on every subject under the sun, one of which was the so-called merman on the beach. It appeared that everyone had paid their twopence to be admitted, but by the time the latecomers had filed through the tent, the ice had melted and the stench of rotting fish was unbearable and they admitted to hurrying through and seeing nothing but two round eyes and a grey jelly-like mass.

  ‘It was all a bubble,’ Lord Mancroft said, slurping his tea noisily. ‘And we ought to demand our money back.’

  ‘But it was Captain Gosforth who paid for us,’ Mrs Bartrum said mildly, smiling at the gentleman in question, who was dressed in the latest military-style coat and strapped pantaloons, all the better in Anne’s eyes for being unadorned. ‘I am sorry I did not see it.’

  ‘You missed nothing,’ Lady Mancroft said. ‘I wish we had not bothered. If we had gone straight to our picnic, we could have had an enjoyable afternoon. Instead…’ She paused. ‘My dear Georgiana, I was mortified on your behalf when they carried you back to that doctor’s house on a cart. I wonder at Miss Hemingford allowing it.’

  ‘What else was I to do?’ Anne asked. ‘Aunt Bartrum needed help…’

  ‘Oh, I give you that, but you could have sent for Dr Wells. He is my physician and one you would not be ashamed to entertain in your drawing room. He would have come in a carriage…’

  ‘And how long would he have taken to arrive? Half an hour, even if he was at home, which he might not have been on a Sunday. Besides, though I was not the one to send for Dr Tremayne, I believe him to be competent.’ Anne’s innate sense of honesty made her defend him even when she was annoyed with him.

  ‘Indeed, he is,’ the Captain said. ‘At least he was competent when it came to treating wounds, injuries and the kind of sickness found aboard a man o’ war, but as to doctoring in those squalid surroundings, I find that a little strange…’

  ‘Do you know him?’ Anne asked, trying not to sound too curious.

  ‘Did once. Served on my ship. A gallant officer. When we were in the thick of a sea battle, he was there, doing his work, calmness itself. I did not know what had become of him after he was wounded and left the service. Why did he not go home to his wife?’ He paused in an effort to remember. ‘I collect he had a wife, though perhaps he was only contemplating marriage. I am tempted to renew our acquaintance and find out what he has been up to.’

  Anne heard his words and her heart gave a little jump and then settled in her breast like a stone. If the doctor was married… What difference did it make? He was nothing to her. She was simply interested in his work and anxious to help; whether he was married or not had no bearing on that all. But if he was married, where was his wife?

  ‘What is that to the point?’ Lady Mancroft said. ‘You should not have conveyed Mrs Bartrum to that dreadful tenement. Goodness knows what pestilence she might have picked up.’

  ‘The rooms and the doctor were spotlessly clean,’ Anne said. ‘I would not have allowed it else.’

  ‘Neither will be there much longer,’ Sir Gerald put in, taking a lace-edged handkerchief from his sleeve and wafting it about as if waving away the memory of the stench of the place. ‘I heard the builders are going to pull the street down. The land is wanted for more houses for the Quality.’

  ‘But
surely they cannot do that?’ Anne asked, unable to hide her dismay. ‘What will happen to Dr Tremayne’s business?’

  He shrugged his superfine-clad shoulders. ‘He will have to find other premises.’

  ‘But where? He needs to be close to the poor people he serves. And what about the tenants in the neighbouring houses, surely they will not be put out on the street?’

  ‘They, too, must find somewhere else. Good thing too. How can respectable inhabitants be expected to endure the stink of fish on their doorsteps, not to mention the sight of their rags? And the doctor encourages all manner of low life to visit him…’

  Anne opened her mouth to protest but her aunt’s hand on her arm stayed her. ‘I think we have said enough on the subject,’ she said. ‘Shall we speak of other things?’

  ‘I believe there is a ball here tomorrow evening.’ Anne obeyed, but her mind was still on the problems of the doctor. Was Sir Gerald right? And if he was, where would the poor man go? And what would happen to his patients, Tildy Smith and all those like her?

  ‘Indeed, there is,’ Lady Mancroft said. ‘Shall you come?’

  Anne pulled herself together to answer. ‘If my aunt feels up to it.’

  ‘Why should I not?’ her aunt demanded. ‘There is nothing at all wrong with me, as that foolish doctor was obliged to admit. I shall certainly attend and so will you, Anne. Now, I propose to take a turn around the room. Major Mancroft, may I take your arm?’

  He rose with alacrity and offered his arm and together they set off to perambulate the circumference of the room.

  Captain Gosforth sat down beside Anne in the seat vacated by her aunt. ‘Miss Hemingford, I do most earnestly hope Mrs Bartrum has recovered from her misadventure.’

  ‘I believe she has, Captain.’

  ‘That is a great relief. I feel responsible. I should never have suggested visiting that tent; it was not the place to take someone of such fine sensibility.’

  ‘I am sure she does not blame you, sir.’

  ‘Oh, how relieved I am to hear that. Do you think she would consent to another picnic? Perhaps on the Downs. There are some pleasant spots near my home.’

  ‘You must ask her yourself, Captain.’ It was said with a smile, which he took for encouragement, and he hurried off to prise the lady away from the Major.

  Anne was thoroughly amused by the behaviour of the two gentlemen. Her aunt was a dear and they obviously appreciated her qualities. Anne did not believe for a moment that they were toadying to Mrs Bartrum to enlist her support in the pursuit of Anne herself, which was what her aunt believed. ‘I’ll not discourage them,’ Aunt Bartrum had told her. ‘Then I shall be better able to judge which will make the most suitable match for you.’

  ‘Perhaps neither of them wants me and I should hate them to think I entertained expectations…’

  ‘My dear Anne, I do hope you are not going to be difficult. They are both very eligible. The Major is Lord Mancroft’s heir and though Captain Gosforth has no title, his family is an old and respected one and he is well up in the stirrups. And where else are you going to find a husband so late in life?’

  ‘Aunt, I am not looking for one.’

  ‘Of course you are.’ This had been said with such firm conviction, Anne had not the heart to contradict her.

  By the time everyone had drunk tea, eaten cakes and biscuits and mulled over all the latest gossip, it was time to go home to prepare for whatever evening entertainment had been arranged. By then Anne and her aunt had become on nodding terms with most of the people in the room and, according to Mrs Bartrum, their stay in Brighton looked set fair to have a happy outcome.

  ‘I think I shall come out of full mourning and wear half-mourning for the ball tomorrow night,’ she told Anne as they rode home in the carriage Captain Gosforth had put at their disposal. ‘For your sake, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ Anne murmured with a smile. ‘Have you decided what to wear?’

  ‘Purple with silver trimming,’ she said. ‘That should be suitable and it will go well with your lilac ball gown.’ She paused. ‘And I think we should hire a carriage and a groom for the duration of our stay. I should not like Captain Gosforth and Major Mancroft to come to blows over who should provide us with transport.’

  Anne laughed. ‘Aunt, I thought that was what you wanted, rivalry between the two gentlemen.’

  ‘Rivalry, yes, but only in a civilised way. I should hate duels or fisticuffs…’

  ‘Oh, I am sure it will never come to that.’

  ‘I have told them both that I will not favour one over the other and the choice will be left entirely to you.’

  ‘And what did they say to that?’ Anne asked, highly diverted. She was sure both men were laying siege to her aunt, who was a very attractive lady and looked far younger than her forty years, and she was wealthy to boot.

  ‘They seemed a little bemused, but said if I put such store by your judgement, then so would they.’

  Anne laughed. ‘Oh, Aunt Georgie, what am I to say to that?’

  ‘To me? Why, nothing at all. But I do hope you will not reject them both out of hand. I cannot think who else will offer.’

  No, Anne thought, no one would offer for her, certainly not the man who had been on her mind ever since she met him. It was only three days ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. She imagined him going about his work, sleeves rolled up, hair awry, compassionate towards those who needed his help, arrogant when faced with the pretensions of polite society, of which she was a member. She had wanted to convince him she was different, that she cared about the poor and vulnerable, cared about his work, but all she had done was confirm her prejudice and ignorance. And, if she were honest with herself, it was him she wanted to impress, not his patients. And all because he was handsome and mysterious; even Captain Gosforth thought so. She laughed at her own foolishness.

  They had stopped outside their house and the coachman jumped down to open the door and let down the step. ‘When will you need me again, ma’am?’ he asked as they alighted. ‘The Captain said I was to put myself and the equipage at your disposal any time you required it. He said he can just as easily use his tilbury if he needs a conveyance.’

  ‘I do not think we need trouble him,’ she answered. ‘I intend to hire a vehicle for our stay. We cannot always be falling back on the generosity and good nature of our friends. We should not long remain friends if we did.’

  ‘I will tell my master,’ he said and, having seen them to their door, touched his hat and took his leave.

  Anne laughed as they let themselves into the house. ‘The Major will hear of the Captain’s offer and then he will come forward with something even more elaborate,’ she told her aunt. ‘A coach and four, perhaps, with a postilion and liveried footmen.’

  ‘That might be doing it too brown.’ Mrs Bartrum smiled as she drew off her gloves, untied her bonnet and took off her pelisse, all of which she handed to her maid. ‘But perhaps riding horses. Should you not like to go riding on the Downs?’

  ‘Yes, but we can hire hacks.’

  ‘Why do that when we can have them without the expenditure of a single groat? It will be a measure of the gentlemen’s earnest when we see how far they will go…’

  ‘Aunt, you are very wicked.’ Anne took off her outdoor things and handed them to Amelia Parker before following her aunt into the drawing room.

  ‘Aren’t I?’ She giggled like a seventeen-year-old. ‘How do you think I chose my dear Mr Bartrum? I had any number of suitors, but he was the most dogged of them all. I could not shake him off.’

  Anne could not imagine the mild-mannered Henry Bartrum being persistent; he had always given in to his tiny energetic wife in nearly every particular. Perhaps the pursuit had worn him out and, once he had made the conquest, he had decided to rest on his laurels. ‘I am sure you did not really want to shake him off,’ she said.

  ‘Of course not. I should have been heartbroken if he had turned out not to be as single minded as I ha
d hoped, but you know, if he had not, then he would not have been the man for me and I would have come to realise that. I commend the strategy to you, my dear. It cannot fail.’

  ‘But supposing I find myself falling in love with someone who shows no interest in me at all? If he were indifferent to me and not at all prepared to lavish presents and praise on me, how would your strategy serve me then?’

  Her aunt looked alarmed. ‘Have you?’

  ‘Have I what?’

  ‘Fallen in love.’

  ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I only said, supposing…’

  ‘If, knowing your virtues and aware of your fortune, the gentleman showed no interest, then he would be a lost cause, my dear, and my advice would be to put him from your mind.’

  ‘You do not think I should make a push to make him notice me?’

  ‘No, I do not. It would be less than dignified and not the actions of a lady. My goodness, if he still failed to notice you, how mortified you would be.’

  Anne forced a laugh. ‘Yes, wouldn’t I? I would want to crawl away into a hole and hide.’

  ‘Anne, why all the questions? Is there someone…?’

  ‘No, no, I was simply thinking about your advice and other possibilities. I was only wondering what you would do in those circumstances.’

  ‘And now you know.’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’ She paused, anxious not to be quizzed. ‘What are we doing this evening?’

  ‘Mrs Harcourt, the lieutenant’s mother, is holding a soirée. She is a foolish woman who has taken up residence in Brighton because she cannot bear him out of her sight. If Jeanette Barry accepts him, she is going to have to take the mother with him. I said we might not go. Neither the Captain nor the Major are going to be there. And we have the ball tomorrow night and so much else arranged for the rest of the week, it would be better to spend a quiet evening at home. Do you agree?’