Miss Shaw and the Doctor

by Fenella J Miller

“It’s exactly what you need. I have just spent a pleasant while in the garden talking to Dr. Moorcroft.”

  She regretted her comment when she saw the girls exchange glances. She must stifle these rumours before they took hold below stairs, but to make mention of the matter might just add fuel to the flames. Better to ignore the significant looks, remain aloof from personal chitchat with the staff. Being a governess was an invidious position, neither servant nor a member of the family, but somewhere suspended between the two.

  The girls curtsied politely and vanished through the door that led to the back stairs. Sarah checked the room was ready for the morning. She intended to keep the girls busy and turn their minds away from what would be taking place in the church just down the lane. Hopefully they would feel less distressed after the funeral. She was surprised Lady Fenwick had not called. The children needed their mother at a time like this. A governess, especially one they had only known for such a short time, was no substitute for a loving parent.

  The days passed and no word came from Bentley Manor. Both Beth and Lorna were fully recovered from their illness; it could only be a matter of time before they would all have to return, which would mean Isobel must depart for boarding school.

  Sarah had taken to joining Mrs. Moorcroft in the drawing room after supper, leaving the two nursery maids in charge upstairs.

  “My dear, I don’t suppose that you’ve heard the latest on dit? Come and sit down, you look exhausted.”

  “I’m not sleeping too well, ma’am. I’m dreading the summons from the Manor. Whatever I do, Isobel is becoming more and more withdrawn. She spends every moment clinging to me or her sisters. She seems incapable of functioning alone.”

  Mrs. Moorcroft nodded sympathetically. “Poor little thing, but what I have to tell you might well make things a little better for all of you.”

  “News from Lady Fenwick?” Sarah could think of nothing else that would be of interest to her and the girls. The expected visit had not materialised, and neither had there been any written communication from either parent. This was decidedly strange.

  “Yes, Adam has finally been allowed to visit her ladyship and the baby. It appears she and Sir John are at loggerheads over his decision. I never imagined Celia had the backbone to stand up to him. However, she has packed her bags and gone with her son to stay indefinitely with her sister in Kent.”

  “Good heavens! How did she manage that? Didn’t Sir John try and prevent it?”

  “Celia left when he was in town on business.”

  “How extraordinary, but I don’t see how this removal is going to affect us.”

  Mrs. Moorcroft beamed. “You are to stay here until she returns. She was most insistent on it. This means Isobel shall not be sent away to school.”

  The communicating door to the dining room was pushed open and the doctor strolled in. Although they were no longer close, spent no time alone together, at least they were good friends. She felt the colour coming to her cheeks; this always occurred when he appeared.

  Adam bent down and kissed his mother’s cheek and nodded to Sarah before folding himself on to a chair adjacent to hers. “I expect my mother has told you the good news. From what I gather, Lady Fenwick is going to be away for the rest of the summer, which means Isobel is safe until the autumn at least.” His expression turned earnest. “I can’t tell you how delighted we are you and the girls can remain here for the next few weeks. Already this house is becoming like a happy home. I love to hear the sound of children laughing about the place.”

  She smiled wryly. “There’s been little laughter lately, but we have all decided to leave off our black armbands tomorrow. It will be over a week since Charlotte died. I want the children to start enjoying themselves again. Dr. Moorcroft, would you have any objection to them making a memorial garden somewhere in your acreage? Having something to occupy them will be beneficial to their recovery.”

  “Of course not, I think it an excellent idea. Mama, will you assist them in finding the ideal spot?”

  “It will be my pleasure. Now, Adam, tell me what’s been going on in the village today.”

  “The gypsy children are now fully recovered from the disease as well. I was speaking to their leader, Sampson. He has asked me if we have any objection to them camping in our woods. The horse fair is next week, and they wish to remain in the vicinity for that.”

  Sarah wasn’t sure she would be entirely comfortable having these exotic travellers living so close. He saw her expression and frowned. “I thought better of you, Miss Shaw. Surely you are not prejudiced as many of the villagers are? It’s not the gypsies who pilfer and poach. It’s the disaffected labourers and vagrants who do most of the damage.”

  “Please don’t worry about the gypsies, Sarah, my dear. They have stayed with us several times and I have found them no trouble at all. You would not believe how clean they keep their caravans. They would put several of the villagers to shame,” Mrs. Moorcroft explained.

  “Will they be visible from the lawn? I don’t want the girls wandering off. I’m certain Lady Fenwick would not wish them to mingle, however delightful they might be.”

  “Mingle? I should think not, most unsuitable. Adam wasn’t suggesting they should play with the girls, were you, dear?”

  He pulled a face and laughed. “I give in, Mama, Miss Shaw. Personally I would not think it mattered if the girls were to talk to the gypsy children sometimes. They can have no idea how privileged they are unless they see how lesser folk live.”

  The conversation turned to more mundane matters, and shortly afterwards Sarah said her goodnights and retired. Her maid was waiting to help her undress.

  When Sarah told Betty that Lady Fenwick had deserted her husband and children, her abigail was as shocked as she was. “My, I can’t see that helping Miss Isobel, her ladyship running away like that, Miss Shaw.”

  “Neither can I. They need to see their mother at this sad time. It might well appear to them they have not only lost a sister, but a parent and a brother as well, if only temporarily for the latter.”

  She found it difficult to sleep that night. She wasn’t sure whether she should tell the girls what had taken place at Bentley Manor or leave it for another week or two until they were no longer grieving for Lottie.

  The matter was decided for her the next morning when the housekeeper bustled in with a thick letter. “Miss Shaw, this has just arrived by express. He has not waited for your reply.”

  Sarah took the item with some misgivings; the only person who wrote to her was her mother and never on such fine paper or as substantial a missive as this one. The handwriting was unknown to her. She snapped open the blob of red sealing wax. A thick wad of banknotes tumbled out; she stared at them in disbelief.

  My dear Miss Shaw,

  I am writing this in some disarray. No doubt you have heard I left Bentley Manor in somewhat of a hurry. I wish to explain the whole to you. You must think me a poor mama to not call in to see my dear girls before I left. You will see I have included a note for each of them, which I trust you will hand over when you have read my letter.

  Sir John is adamant Isobel is to blame for Lottie’s death. Nothing I can say will dissuade him from that view. My eldest daughter is to be cut off from the bosom of her family, never allowed to come back, not even in the vacations. When it became obvious my pleas and arguments were to no avail I was obliged to take matters into my own hands. Whilst he was on business elsewhere, I fled Bentley Manor, taking our new baby with us. I have vowed not to return until he changes his mind.

  I have let it be known I am staying with my sister in Kent, but in fact I am elsewhere entirely, somewhere he will never think to look. I shall not be able to communicate again with you as he might be able to trace my letters back to me. I have told him to place an advertisement in The Times saying he is looking for an estate manager and then I shall know that not only may I return, but also Isobel, Lorna and Beth.

  I trust you will take care of my darlings
for me until we are reunited. Do whatever you have to do to keep them safe. I have enclosed sufficient funds for you to take whatever action you deem appropriate.

  Sarah stared at the letter in disbelief. Even if Sir John could not find his wife, he could descend on The Rookery at any time and take Isobel away. Then the girls would be without their mother and split asunder. It did not bear thinking of. There must be something she could do to prevent this.

  When they had been celebrating the fact the girls could remain with them throughout the summer none of them had considered the very real possibility that Sir John would demand she return with the girls and Isobel would have to leave for school. The fact that his wife was missing need make no difference to this decision.

  Then it became clear to her. Lady Fenwick had sent her the money in order that she run away with the girls and hide until the family could be reunited at some later date. Good grief! If she took the girls away without their father’s permission, she might be arraigned for abduction, the penalty for which would be hanging, or transportation at the very least.

  This was not a decision she could make without advice. There was only one person she would trust with the secret, and that was her erstwhile betrothed. Quickly refolding the paper, and pushing the money into the pocket of her gown, she turned to Betty, who was watching curiously.

  “I must go and speak to Dr. Moorcroft urgently. Betty, please tell Nancy not to take the girls out for their morning constitutional until I have spoken with them. I shall not be long.”

  Her instinct was to run through the house, but common sense prevented her. It would not do to alert the staff that there was something amiss. What she had in mind would require dissembling, and she must start that immediately if she was to be successful.

  Adam waylaid the housekeeper as she descended the stairs. “Mrs. Taylor, I gather an express has arrived. I’m still waiting to have it given to me.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir—the letter was not for you, but for Miss Shaw.”

  How curious. Who—that Sarah knew—could be in the position to pay the added expense of sending a letter by express delivery? He could think of only one person, and his heart sank at the implication. If Lady Fenwick was in communication with Sarah in this clandestine way then it could only be because she was intending to embroil the girl in her machinations. Sir John was in no mood to brook interference from anyone in this matter. Sarah’s involvement could easily end in an unmitigated disaster.

  The sound of light footsteps approaching made him look up. His lips curved. He was glad she had come to him; it showed the closeness between them was not entirely in his own imagination. He had not entirely given up hope things would be mended between them and eventually they could become man and wife. It would not be for want of trying on his behalf.

  He moved into the shadows in order to watch her descend the staircase. The early morning sun enveloped her. A jolt of awareness almost made him stumble. How could he ever have thought her plain? Her hair, which was escaping endearingly from its severe style, had golden streaks. Her beautiful eyes shone like gemstones. Even under her unflattering ensemble, he could see her figure was trim and her ankles neatly turned. She was everything he wanted in a wife.

  It would not do to lurk in this unseemly manner; he must step forward and speak to her. “Miss Shaw, I have just heard you received an express delivery. I pray it is not bad news that brings you hurrying here?”

  Instead of frowning at his sudden appearance, her face was illuminated by such joy he was almost overwhelmed. “Adam, I must speak to you in private. I am at my wits’ end and have no idea how to proceed. I trust you can give me the advice I so desperately need.”

  Sarah wished her intemperate words back inside her head. What would Adam think of her? To arrive in such disarray, her hair not properly arranged, and then to use his given name? Unwanted heat travelled from her toes to the tip of her ears. Skidding to a halt in front of him, she dropped her eyes and waited for his reprimand.

  “Sweetheart, I cannot tell you how glad I am that you have come to me. Come, we shall retire to my study. Not even my mother would dare disturb us there.”

  His gentle finger touched her chin and raised her face so that she could see him. Her anxiety trickled away beneath the tenderness in his face. “I beg your pardon for speaking so—”

  “Never apologise for using my given name, my dear. We are the best of friends, are we not? I intend to call you Sarah from now on, whether you give me leave or not.” He took her hand and led her down an unknown passageway and into the seclusion of his book lined study.

  There was barely time to take in her surroundings; his study was a substantial chamber, dominated by a massive leather topped desk. However, at the far end of the room was a small group of furniture, and he guided her there. “Settle yourself. I shall have refreshments brought. You are too pale and have lost weight since you’ve been under my roof. As your physician, I have been derelict in my duty. I intend to take better care of you from now on.”

  She was grateful for the few moments his departure gave her to compose herself. Her heart hammered beneath her bodice, and her hands were damp. She had not been mistaken; she was sure he returned her feelings. He loved her as much as she loved him. But would he still feel the same when she made her request? Her intentions would stretch his love to the very limits—maybe ruin her chance of happiness forever.

  He was gone for several minutes but returned carrying a laden tray. “Here, I have hot chocolate and coffee—I wasn’t sure which you would prefer. I also have morning rolls, conserve and butter plus some ripe strawberries freshly picked from the kitchen garden. No, my dear girl, do not poker up. I shall not discuss anything with you until you have eaten.”

  “Then, sir, I might as well leave now. My stomach is in turmoil. If I ate anything I would cast up my accounts on your books, and I’m sure that would not be your wish.”

  His chuckle warmed her. “In which case I shall put the tray to one side and you must tell me why you are so agitated. The express was from Lady Fenwick, wasn’t it?” He spoke as he was selecting somewhere suitable to place the breakfast tray.

  She nodded and removed the roll of bank notes from her pocket and held them up. “Her ladyship has asked me to take the girls away from here and keep them safe from her husband until he gives in to her demands. I fear if I don’t do as she asks, Sir John might arrive and remove Isobel from my charge regardless of her mother’s wishes.” She waved the money under his nose. “I believe I must put myself outside the law and run away with the girls using this to sustain us.”

  He stared at her as if she were an escapee from Bedlam. He stepped backwards and caught his heel in the rug. The tray slipped from his hands, crashing to the floor. His expletive, as scalding coffee saturated his breeches, brought colour to her cheeks.

  Chapter Ten

  “Good heavens, Dr. Moorcroft. You have dropped our breakfast,” Sarah said.

  He ground his teeth. “Did you think I had not noticed, madam? Do not stand there like a pea goose. Call for assistance.” He was ineffectually mopping at his person with his handkerchief.

  Sarah looked in vain for a bell to ring. With an exclamation of disgust, he stepped away from the mess and strode to the door. Flinging it open he roared down the passageway for someone to come.

  An inexplicable desire to giggle bubbled up inside her. She turned her back and dropped to her knees in order to give herself something to do whilst she regained her composure. Suddenly she was back on her feet, lifted bodily from the carpet.

  “Leave it. You might cut yourself on the shards of crockery. Remain here. I shall be back within ten minutes. Order a fresh tray.”

  She was impressed by his command of the situation although not pleased to have been referred to in such pejorative terms. He was certainly adept at giving orders, but she was not sure she enjoyed being on the receiving end of his dictums. She had better do as he said; she needed his advice and could not return to
her chambers until she had it. The sound of servants hurrying in the direction of the study made her desirous of being seated. Fortunately she spotted the dropped money and was able to reclaim it before Mrs. Taylor, followed by a bevy of female staff, arrived in the room.

  With calm efficiency, the housekeeper directed her girls and within minutes the debris had gone as if there had been no accident at all. Only then did Sarah see the hem of her gown was covered with strawberry conserve. Should she go and change it, or remain where she was until he returned? No, he might be the master of this establishment, but he was not hers. She would not sit in a soiled gown.

  Betty clucked and fussed but nonetheless had Sarah’s appearance fully restored within five minutes. It had even been possible to secret the money in her reticule, but her abigail must be wondering why her mistress felt it necessary to take a bag to the study. This was one piece of information she would not share with Betty, at least not until she had decided on what course of action to pursue.

  As she reached the head of the staircase, she saw the doctor’s broad shoulders and dark hair turning into the corridor that led to his study. Botheration! She had hoped he would take longer. Now she was tardy and he would be even more cross than he had been before.

  Skidding to a halt at the door, she almost cannoned into him as he stepped out to look for her. “Miss Shaw, why is it that every time I am in your vicinity some sort of calamity occurs?” His tone was playful, his eyes twinkling; he had obviously recovered from his irritation.

  “I don’t believe you can blame me for dropping the tray, sir. I seem to remember you were holding it at the time.” She skipped nimbly past him, delighted to see that a second tray was awaiting their attention.

  “Please, my dear, be seated. I am sharp set. I must break my fast before we talk. Do you think you feel well enough to join me?”

  Surprisingly, after all the excitement, she was feeling more the thing and quite ready to eat. “Thank you, I find that I am hungry now. I’m sorry I was absent when you returned. I was forced to return to my chamber to repair my appearance.”