“Very well. Miss Lotty, how is your ankle?”
Dr. Marsland sighed. “Ernest, genteel ladies don’t like totalk about certain ... limbs in company. A simple ‘How are you feeling?’ or ‘Is the injury healing?’ will suffice.”
The younger man ducked his head in chagrin.
Anne couldn’t help herself. A chuckle escaped.
Dr. Marsland sent her a quizzical look, while the younger man glanced up at her, expression uncertain.
“I am sorry,” Anne said. “It’s just that, well, if I needed, say, a suspicious growth removed, I would not hesitate to specify which limb.”
“Anne!” Lotty warned under her breath. She turned to their guests. “Please forgive my young friend. Her father is a surgeon-apothecary, you see, and she assisted him for years. So she is more accustomed to such ... talk ... than most ladies.”
Dr. Finch bit back a grin. “I see. That explains it. And where does he practice?”
“Churchdown, a village outside Gloucester. No physician lives nearby, so he is called on to help people with all sorts of maladies and even to deliver babies. As a younger man, he practiced with a more established surgeon here in Painswick for a time before setting out on his own.”
Dr. Finch raised his chin. “Ah. That I understand. I am extremely grateful to be working alongside Dr. Marsland, at least for now.”
The older man nodded. “And you will learn while you do so, if you’re willing and teachable. It’s why I feel it incumbent upon myself to point out ... small areas of ... needed improvement. So if and when you leave, you will take all of that experience and decorum with you to another practice.”
“It’s an honor, sir. And I sincerely appreciate the opportunity.”
“And how long have you been here in Painswick, Dr. Finch?” Anne asked.
“Nearly two months now.”
Dr. Marsland explained, “I am acquainted with his father, who was previously my uncle’s lawyer. Before he went abroad, he asked me to look out for his son here, who had decided to study medicine.”
Anne asked, “And where did you study, Dr. Finch?”
“Guy’s Hospital, in London.”
“Ah yes!” Anne replied. “My father studied there for a twelvemonth as well.”
“Then you understand the life. How refreshing.”
“Speaking of that,” Miss Lotty gently interrupted, “let’s have some refreshment.”
As if hearing her cue, Dinah brought in a kettle of hot water. The tea caddy, teapot, milk, and sugar were already arranged on the cloth. Miss Lotty prepared the tea at the table, as was her preference, and while they waited for it to steep, she passed around the plate of teacakes, a bowl of fresh berries, and a pitcher of cream.
Dr. Finch asked Anne, “So your father practices as an apothecary as well as a surgeon, does he?”
“Yes. He finds the two complement one another well. As a surgeon he might lance a boil and also prepare a salve to help it heal afterward.”
Lotty coughed. “Not a topic for the table, my dear.”
“Oh. Sorry,” Anne said. “My sister often tells me I am indiscreet.”
Dr. Finch’s brows shot up and he looked rather alarmed. “Are you? Indiscreet?”
At the odd question, Anne regarded him and saw the clear appeal in his dark brown eyes. Then, remembering that conversation behind the thicket, she realized the question was not so odd.
“Well, Icanbe discreet. When necessary.”
Again, the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple. “Good. That is ... good. A good quality to have. Discretion.”
“Ernest, for heaven’s sake,” Dr. Marsland softly chided. “What a question. Now you’re the one displaying a want of discretion.”
