She heard the stranger knock on the front door, clearly finally free of Mr. Douglas’s questioning, and focused on her task. The butler would see to whoever the man was, and if he needed her attention, he would let her know.
Her workroom was set on the ground floor of her two-storey townhouse. In fact, it had been set up by her adoptive father once she had shown an interest in the art of healing.
She smiled at the heavy tomes that sat on her table, the first of the gifts that had piqued her interest.
Jonathan Boyd was a merchant who had traveled the globe sourcing treasures to trade, and some of those treasures included rare texts. As a young girl, she was often left alone when he went on his long voyages. With naught to do, she started reading. It was in these texts that she had first developed an interest in human anatomy and how ailments could be cured.
When she had proposed the idea of further training in the arts of healing, he had found her a healer she could learn under and provided everything she would need to perfect her learning.
For as long as she could remember, Jonathan hadn’t denied her anything, and with his access to different parts of the world she could only dream of visiting, he provided her access to knowledge that would have been otherwise out of her reach.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she thought of how he had passed in this very room. The scent of sickness that had enveloped him as the light in his eyes dimmed as the days passed. For allthe knowledge she possessed, she had been unable to stop the wasting cough he had caught on one of his many travels.
On days when she was reminded of how he had looked in his final moments, she wished to be anywhere but the house that reminded her of his death. But where would she go?
She knew of no other family outside her adoptive father and no other home outside this one.
“Miss Collins?” Albert, the butler, called from outside the door, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“Aye, Albert?”
“There is someone here to see ye,” he announced.
“Show him in,” she answered, eyeing her stock of herbs and medicines.
She had thought Mr. Douglas was her last patient that morning before she could replenish her stores. She certainly hoped she had enough to treat whatever ailment plagued the man.
She turned around when the door opened, and was surprised at the sight of the man who stepped inside.
Her usual patients were the villagers, but the man who stepped inside was too well-dressed, with no visible signs of illness. Heeyed the room warily and wrinkled his nose. The smell of herbs and medicines must have irritated him. Nonetheless, she wanted to know who he was.
“Good day, Miss Collins,” he greeted.
“Good day.”
“I am Odhran McCain,” he said. “I am sorry to have come so late, but I am Mr. Boyd’s solicitor, and I have the final copy of his will with me.”
Talia’s eyebrows knitted into a frown.
His will?
Her adoptive father had passed two months ago. Why did his solicitor only come now?
“It has been two months,” she pointed out. “Why did ye only come now?”
“I do understand that me arrival is rather late, and I must offer me condolences as well as me apology,” he said with a grim look. “I was away from the clan and only recently returned due to a summons from debt collectors.”
She nodded and swallowed.
“I am sorry to cause ye such discomfort, but I daenae think this is a discussion to be had while standing.”
“Oh, I forgot me manners,” she gasped. “Do have a seat. Would ye like some tea?”
“I thank ye, but nay.” He sat on the settee, albeit warily, and waited for her to do so as well before continuing. “I have both good and bad news, Miss Collins. Which would ye prefer to hear first?”
“Good news first,” she answered. “I believe I have had enough bad news for some time.”
He smiled grimly and nodded. “Mr. Boyd left ye half of his estate,” he started. “As well as half of the proceeds from his investments. The other half is going to his cousin.”
