“What a knave.” He shook his head, eyes glinting. “If I loved a woman, it would not matter were she the queen or a kitchen maid.”
Or a lady’s maid?Anne wondered.
Despite her reservations, and her resolve to remain single,her chest ached to see the romantic fire in his expression. What would it be like to be loved like that?
She drew a bracing breath. “Lofty words, Dr. Finch. Yet I for one appreciate his forthright honesty. Better to be clear about one’s intentions toward a woman than to lead her a merry dance.”
His eyes locked on hers a long moment, emotions flashing in rapid succession in their glassy depths. Then they shuttered closed. “You are quite right, Miss Loveday. Forgive me.” He bowed curtly and turned to go.
Katherine Fitzjohn came around the house, garden basket over her arm. “Good morning, Miss Loveday. Oh! Dr. Finch is leaving.” She raised her hand and called, “Dr. Finch! A word before you go, if you please.”
Reluctantly, he turned back. Not meeting Anne’s gaze, he directed his attention to Miss Fitzjohn.
“How is Mamma?” she asked him. “Mrs. Pratt told me what happened—the accident with the soup. Dreadful.”
“She seems much recovered today, thankfully. We will continue her breathing treatments for another day or two and see how she gets on.”
Katherine sighed in relief. “I am glad to hear it. That is the last time I ask Mrs. Pratt to break her own rule. Special occasion or no.”
The physician nodded. “I think that wise.”
The door in the churchyard wall burst open, and Albert Palling rushed in, out of breath and clearly upset.
“Mr. Palling!” Katherine exclaimed. “Good heavens, what’s happened?”
Indeed the man looked alarmed and disheveled. Unusually, he wore no hat, and his hair was windblown and his shirtfront stained.
“An accident at the mill. King’s. Went to Humpage’s house first, but he’s not home. Marsland either. Came here, hopingto find the new man. Dr. Finch, please come. One of my men caught his arm in a gig mill.”
“Oh, I...” His Adam’s apple rose and fell. “I’m not a surgeon, but I will do what I can. Is it ... bad?”
“I don’t know. Shouting his head off, though.”
Dr. Finch hesitated, then turned to Anne. “Will you come with me? As a surgeon’s daughter, you might be able to assist, if needed.”
“I would, of course. But Lady Celia...”
“I will sit with Mamma,” Katherine insisted. “Please do help them, Miss Loveday.”
“Very well. If you are sure. Rosa is upstairs too.”
“We’ll manage. Go on.”
Dr. Finch already had his bag in hand, and considering the urgent nature of the call, Anne did not insist on returning upstairs for her bonnet and gloves.
They followed the mill owner around the back of the house and through the grounds to Kemp Lane at a jog until they reached King’s Mill Lane. They followed that along the Painswick stream until they reached the mill in question.
Without pause, Mr. Palling pushed through the large double doors, where a cacophony of noise met them. Apparently cloth work did not stop even for injury.
One machine stood inactive, however, and the three rushed over to it. A man was hunched over, bent at the waist, arm trapped in the machine, as a second man, perhaps a mechanic, worked to free him.
A moment later, the mechanic sawed through a metal rod and the tension on the man’s arm slackened.
“Easy now,” Dr. Finch said. Together he and Mr. Palling slowed the man’s fall as he sagged back from the machine.
Anne could see the arm hung unnaturally at his side, but at least it was not severed.
The mechanic immediately began to repair the machine.
