With that, the young man scurried about the work, and Arthur snatched up the abandoned magazine, dumping it into Miss Templeton’s basket as he offered her a hand. This certainly hadn’t gone as he’d intended, but there was no helping matters. Just the thought of their rude treatment toward Miss Templeton had his pulse quickening once more, and Arthur fought to keep himself from berating the apprentice; the lad certainly deserved it, but he’d already overstepped.
“Miss Templeton, I was hoping you might have some time this afternoon…” For all that Arthur’s fury had been pushing him through the past few minutes, the moment he turned his mind toward the business that brought him to Miss Templeton’s door, his nerves wrestled for control. Especially as the apprentice was standing within hearing, though the young man set to his work with a fervor.
“I am taking your advice,” blurted Arthur.
Miss Templeton’s brows rose. “Are you? What advice?”
“To purchase a horse, and I was hoping you might have some time this afternoon to teach me some of the finer points. I know the basics, but I fear I’m an abysmal rider.” There. He’d managed the invitation. An outing together. If dancing with her twice hadn’t conveyed his intentions well enough, surely, this would make it clear.
“I am glad you are so eager to learn, but as I ride sidesaddle, I fear I am a poor teacher for you,” she said with a considering frown. “I am certain my brother would be willing if you do not wish to ask Mr. Finch.”
Arthur held back a sigh. He didn’t wish to ask any “Mr.” for instruction, and he couldn’t say for certain whether her objections were personal or merely practical. Drawing in a sharp breath, he decided to change tack.
“Thank you for the suggestion, Miss Templeton. I shall give it due consideration,” he said, searching for the proper words. “Perhaps you might show me around town. If you have some time this afternoon. Your apprentice has this in hand.” He paused with a significant tone and pointed toward the young man, who nodded vigorously.
“I will have it all cataloged and in its proper place before you return, Miss Templeton,” added the lad.
Turning his attention back to Miss Templeton, Arthur gave as warm a smile as he could manage whilst his insides felt swarmed by angry bees. The lady stood for a moment, watching him in silence as she considered it.
“There’s hardly anything to show, Dr. Vaughn. If you have walked from your home to mine, you’ve seen the majority of Oakham,” she said with a frown. But she cut her words short,straightened her spine, and gave a self-deprecating shake of her head. “Oh, of course. You wished to discuss some business, didn’t you? In all the confusion, it slipped my mind. I do have more work to do this afternoon, but if we are not gone too long, I have time enough for anything you wish to discuss.”
In London, Arthur had witnessed more than a few hot air balloon ascensions; it was thrilling to see a person floating through the air like a bird. And the moment Miss Templeton spoke, he felt like one of the balloons, which had sprung a leak and plummeted to the ground. Thankfully, no one had been seriously injured then, but Arthur couldn’t say the same of his pride at having Miss Templeton misinterpret the meaning behind the invitation.
“If you will give me a moment to freshen up, I would be pleased to join you on a walk about town,” said Miss Templeton before turning and hurrying away.
She’d accepted. That was something to celebrate. Even if she didn’t understand the significance yet. As much as Arthur longed to tell her that all of it was naught but an excuse to secure time with her, surely, it wasn’t necessary to say aloud. Eventually, intentions had to be explicitly declared, but no courting beau approached a lady and simply said, “I wish to court you.”
No, there were dances and time together. Bouquets and tokens. Signs of one’s interest that conveyed as clearly as words. And Arthur simply had to be patient as he reinforced his intentions with his actions.
***
Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Violet tried to understand the strange turns her life had taken. If not for the fact that her dreams were never vivid enough to confuse with reality, she might’ve believed this day was naught but a fantasy her mind had conjured. Yet here she was, walking down the country lane with Dr. Vaughn at her side.
How had she arrived at this point? True, the gentleman had lured her out with promises of some mysterious “business” he wished to discuss, but it hadn’t taken much to convince her to join him. Violet’s heart burned as she replayed the image of his temper flaring as he took charge of the shipment. How sternly he’d insisted on not only carrying her tools in from the garden but that she sit as they managed the rest. The defense Dr. Vaughn had laid on her behalf.
“…She is a lady in every sense of the word, and you will treat her as such…”
Violet had been a large babe that had grown into a large lady, and for all that manners demanded men treat women with dignity and respect, her stature had always deemed her as not female in their eyes, as though such consideration was only reserved for those of delicate build—which Mr. Sprat had so thoroughly demonstrated when he’d scoffed at the thought of assisting someone larger than himself. Miss Violet Templeton was built like a man, not a woman. No matter that her figure clearly displayed female curves.
And then Dr. Vaughn had swooped in like a vengeful knight, there to defend her honor. The image played in her mind again and again, and Violet couldn’t help the surge of warmth that swept through her and settled into her heart at the memory.
Shaking her head at herself, she shied away from such thoughts. They wouldn’t help matters. Thinking of him kindly wouldn’t alter the fact that he was her enemy, not her friend. No matter how considerate he was. For the good of her family, Violet had to drive him from town, and she mustn’t forget it.
Yet that drew up memories of Dr. Vaughn’s anger toward Mr. Finch, which made her insides wriggle. Shifting her shawl, she itched at her neck, but that did nothing to relieve the prickles that ran down her spine. Everyone was justified in their own minds. Mr. Finch had thought himself on the side of right when he’d misled Dr. Vaughn; could she now take similar actions to drive the fellow away?
But what other answer was there?
Their present system of treating patients wasn’t ideal, but it served Oakham’s needs. Violet would swear before a magistrate that the survival rate hadn’t declined in the years since Papa’s passing. If the town deigned to allow a female to serve their medical needs, then Violet would manage it all on her own.
And Mama would suffer an apoplexy. If opening a shop was beneath them, having a daughter take up a man’s work would eviscerate their reputation. No, it was only acceptable if they pretended Violet had little to do with it all.
Or if the townsfolk had no other options.
Now that one had presented itself, Violet knew Isaac’s practice wouldn’t survive long. He cared little for medicine, but it wasn’t as though one could change professions willy-nilly. One could not secure a livelihood without money and connections, and Isaac was sorely lacking both. And though she was content to allow him to pay for his mistakes, it was his family who would suffer for them.
Besides, Dr. Vaughn was so capable. He could relocate to another town and do well for himself. Easily. Not so for Isaac. That logic allowed a little of her stomach to settle, but not when the memory of his kindness continued to replay in her thoughts.
Clearing her throat, Violet nodded back to the buildings as they drifted past the edge of Oakham. “As you’ve seen the village, I thought I might show you some of the country roundabout.”
