I must have a ready answer for him — a courteous, yet definitive ‘No, thank you’.
Yes, I need to settle things with the Hartleys tonight.
The Quick of Him
WHEN ALWYN had passed Sliger in the hall that morning, the boy’s eyes had lit up expectantly.
“Were you able to settle that business we discussed yesterday?”
“No,” Alwyn had replied without breaking his stride. He could hardly bear to think on the matter, and certainly did not want to discuss it with anyone. “Something interfered, and unfortunately, I'll have no time to address it today.”
Sliger began to say something, but Alwyn had hurried on, down the stairs and out of the Bull as if he were late for an appointment.
He had spent the next several hours visiting patients who were not expecting him, observing a surgery that he had not planned to watch — anything to keep his mind from the disaster of the night before.
Just as evening fell, he went to the Felixes’ house, hoping to busy himself there. As he stood in the front hallway, alone in the quiet, the thought that had been stalking him all day, pounced ferociously.
Miss Everson is lost to me.
He sighed heavily and stepped into the doctor’s study, putting his satchel down by the door. Spying the collection of letters that had been piling up in Felix’s absence, he picked up the top one, thinking he might sort them into neat stacks.
“No need for that,” said a voice behind him. “I’ll see to those tomorrow.”
Spinning on his heel, Alwyn saw Felix in the doorway. With a steaming cup in his hand, he looked comically unkempt in a frumpled dressing gown.
“You’ve returned,” Alwyn said.
“As you see.” Felix frowned. “Are you sullen at such news? Did you hope to take over my practice permanently?”
“Of course not. I’m very pleased to see you.”
“Your countenance says otherwise, though I suspect your distress is rooted in another matter. Come. Sit. It seems you have a tale to tell, and I am keen to hear it.”
Tossing the letter back onto the desk, Alwyn dropped into a chair and found the good doctor’s teacup was being pressed into his hands.
“You look as if you need this more than I do.”
Heartened by the warmth of it against his palms, Alwyn took a deep draught.
Felix sat down at his desk. “So tell me, which of my patients died in my absence?”
Recoiling, Alwyn nearly sloshed tea onto his cuffs. “Sir?”
“Come, boy – patients die! If it’s a jolly profession you want, go apprentice yourself to a minstrel.” He chuckled, then pinned Alwyn with a gimlet-eye. “So if not death, what is it that troubles you — money or a woman?”
Alwyn took a long sip before answering. “The latter.”
“Miss Everson, I presume?”
At this, Alwyndidsplash tea across his sleeves and lap.
“How did you know?”
“You puppy, I am not the dullard you think I am. I well recall how your chest would puff up every time she entered the room — how your voice would register lower whenever you spoke to her. When I received your letter reporting that Mrs Rose Caspar had sought out our services, I hoped for your sake that you might see her niece again. So tell me, has some other fellow secured her affections?”
“Not that I’m aware of, no. Rather...” Alwyn stared into his half empty cup for a moment. “…it seems I have offended her.”
Felix gasped like an actor on stage.
