That insidious word entered his thoughts, plaguing him as Arthur forced his feet forward. Could he be certain? It wasn’t as though he boasted a grand understanding of women nor possessed the skills to interact with them. If not for having the comfortable common ground of medicine to ease the way, Arthurdoubted he would’ve ever gotten the courage to speak to Miss Templeton.
No matter how he tried, he couldn’t reconcile Miss Bacon’s expectations and his behavior. They did not align. Yet Arthur didn’t doubt that her father was quite firm in his belief that some mischief was about.
How could a man barely able to converse with a lady raise her expectations?
Chapter 27
“Good heavens, Dr. Vaughn,” said Mrs. Templeton, setting aside her sewing and rising from the sofa. “You do look like you’ve seen a ghost. What is the matter?”
Arthur fought back a wince. He’d thought his expression innocuous, but with Mr. Bacon’s accusation resting heavily on his shoulders, it was impossible to rid himself of the cloud hanging over him. Exchanging greetings with the lady, he took the offered seat on the sofa beside her and set his bag on the ground at his feet.
“An odd conversation on the way here—two, in fact—that is all,” said Arthur, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“Nothing too terrible, I hope,” said Mrs. Templeton, as she eyed him. “Would you care for some refreshments? Violet has an excellent selection of tisanes, as you can well imagine.”
The lady in question perched on her armchair, her attention fixed entirely on mending a ragged hem. Not once did she look at Arthur, which did nothing to help his equilibrium. Had Miss Templeton heard rumors about Miss Bacon? Just thethought had his pulse quickening, and Arthur rubbed his palms discreetly against his thighs.
“Thank you for the offer, but I haven’t much time,” he said, glancing between the pair, though his gaze lingered longer on Miss Templeton. “I was hoping to get my bag refilled, as my stock is growing low at the moment.”
“Yes, of course.” And with that, Miss Templeton rose from her seat, sweeping over to snatch up the valise and slip away before Arthur could say a word to her—and all without looking at him.
“You look done in.” Mrs. Templeton’s brows knitted together. “Please allow me to get you something to eat and drink. I know how you bachelors neglect yourselves, and I am certain it would do you a world of good.”
Arthur nodded, though he knew it wouldn’t.
*
Clutching the bag to her stomach, Violet scurried from the room as her cheeks blazed as hot as the Sahara Desert. A few vague statements. That was all she’d done. Just insinuations. Nothing more. If the ladies inferred more, then it was their doing and not hers. Yet no matter how much she repeated that in her mind (which had happened continually in the week since the concert), Violet couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on her shoulders. Whatever justifications she gave, it didn’t alter the fact that she’d thrown a good man to the wolves.
Scurrying through the corridor, she made her way to the herb garret and dropped the valise on the table. One hand on her hip and the other rubbing at her forehead, she paced the room, though there was little space to do so.
Dr. Vaughn would recover from this. The ladies would grow angry and vindictive; their family and friends would return to the Templetons, who had overseen their health successfully for years. Even if his reputation was bruised a touch, it was merely an inconvenience. That was all. As skilled as he was and without ties to the community, he could easily rebuild somewhere else.With a father and brother as well-respected as he, Dr. Vaughn couldn’t fail to thrive, regardless of what happened in Oakham.
Though none of those assurances eased the knots forming in her shoulders, they allowed Violet to breathe once more.
The door creaked open, and she whirled about to see Isaac slip into the room.
“Here you are. Can you tell me why Mother is treating Dr. Vaughn like family?” he asked with a frown.
“Because he was here when you were not!” snapped Violet. “He spent hours with her when she was ill, and you were nowhere to be seen.”
Isaac stiffened, his brows shooting upward as Violet’s eyes widened, her hand sliding from her forehead to pinch the bridge of her nose. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to rein in her temper, but her nerves were strung too tight.
“Mother didn’t require a physician,” he said with a frown. “Else I would’ve returned home immediately.”
“He didn’t do it as her physician, Isaac. He did it because I was trying to see to her, the household, and your practice all at the same time, whilst you were enjoying yourself in Portsmouth. You left me all alone to manage without any assistance when everything is falling to pieces around us.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Isaac let it out in a sigh. “It’s not as bad as all that—”
“Do not tell me how bad it is! I am the one who manages the accounts. I am the one who makes the medicines and keeps records of your visits. I know precisely how much money we are making and how many patients you aren’tseeing.”
Violet turned away and stared out the window, unable to say whether she was angrier with herself or her brother. He vexed her greatly at present, but Isaac wasn’t the one who had befriended Dr. Vaughn and then betrayed his many kindnesses. Held his hand, even while plotting to destroy him. Basked in his comfort whilst working to ruin him.
What sort of person was she? The more Violet asked that question, the less confident she was that the answer was good.
“I am certain all will turn out right in the end,” said Isaac.
“How?” she demanded, turning around to stare at her brother. “How precisely is everything going to ‘turn out right in the end’ when you are gallivanting about England without a care in the world? When they had no other option, the villagers tolerated my recommendations and assistance, but with Dr. Vaughn on hand, they needn’t do so any longer. Our patients are abandoning us in droves!”
