Logan gave his arm to his sister, and they walked down the street. Three distinct ridges, known as the Three Sisters of Bidean Nam Bian Mountain, towered over the village, partially hidden by low-lying clouds. It seemed the weather was determined to stay miserable and wet this early summer.
Dr. Barkley serviced most in the council area, though he did share his offices with Dr. Hall whenever he was in town, which was once a month at the least. The small, whitewashed cottage that served as their office sat in the center of town, flanked on one side by a draper and, on the other, a chemist who aided in filling the doctor’s prescriptions.
Logan and Arabella purposely approached the building, knocking on the black-painted wooden door. The excellent doctor opened the door within moments, and his white brows lifted.
“Harris, Miss Harris,” he said with a slight nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You aren’t busy with a patient, are you?” Logan asked as the old man stood back to let them in.
The small house was divided by a wall that ran the length of the building. The front room acted as an office and reception space while private examinations were handled in the back. Logan was aware that old Miss Fletcher, the so-called local witch, lived upstairs. He hadn’t been fond of the old woman since she had convinced his sister that talismans and tokens of amber were good luck, and he gave the ceiling a sour look as he moved toward a wooden table that stood against the far wall opposite a small pot stove.
“No, no,” Dr. Barkley said, waving his hand. “I was just on my way out actually. I’ve not another appointment until…” He patted his vest pocket, looking for something. His fingers dipped into the shallow breast pocket, and he pulled out a silver pocket watch. “At least an hour.” He looked up. “What can I do you for?”
Arabella stepped forward.
“Papa has not been sleeping restfully these past few nights,” she said. “No amount of chamomile tea helps, and he refuses spirits.”
“Does he?”
“Yes. He says alcohol only makes his dreams more vivid and he doesn’t wish them to be.”
The hesitation in Arabella’s voice caused Logan to stare. There was something she wasn’t saying, and he wondered what his father had told her to make her appear so sad.
“Ah, well, that it does for some. That it does. Very well,” the old man said, turning his back on them as he headed toward the desk beneath the front window that overlooked the street. He hunched over and, after picking up his pen, scribbled something on paper. “Take this,” he said, handing it to Arabella. “To the chemist next door. He’ll give you some laudanum.”
“Thank you, Dr. Barkley,” Arabella said. “And is Miss Fletcher home?”
“I believe so,” the doctor said, giving her a speculative look. “Why? You’re not looking for a love potion or anything, are you?”
“Oh no,” Arabella said, her cheeks turning pink. “I only wanted to say hello.”
“She’s a fool, Arabella, don’t waste your time,” Logan said.
“She’s an old woman, who has been very kind to me. And you, if I do say so.”
Logan rolled his eyes, not willing to argue over magical nonsense with her again. Instead, he sighed.
“Very well.”
Arabella smiled.
“Lovely. After I say hello, I shall go next door then?”
He nodded at her as she made her way out of the little cottage. Once she was gone, the doctor gave Logan a knowing glance.
“I suppose you wish for some as well?”
“If you would,” Logan said as the doctor opened one of his drawers at his desk.
Pulling out a small, brown vial, he handed it to Logan. Dr. Hall had arranged to keep Logan’s supply at the office, for which Logan was grateful.
“That last one lasted a little longer this time, didn’t it?” Dr. Barkley asked. “Nearly two weeks longer.”
“Is that so? I’ve not paid attention to it.”
“I have,” the doctor said. “In fact, if I were to guess it, I think you might not need it in a year or so.”
Logan pocketed the small bottle.
