At this very moment, Miss Violet Templeton slaved away whilst everyone else slept. Though Arthur didn’t know what the lady was doing precisely, there was no mistaking the effort she expended, and whatever else he doubted about her, he couldn’t deny that Miss Templeton was industrious. And usually on another’s behalf.
And where did that certainty come from? With everything that had passed between them, Arthur didn’t know why he thought kindly of her. Perhaps his heart was simply too weak, but with well over a decade of experience with courtship (pitiful though his history was in that regard), he knew better than to blindly cling to unrequited love.
Yet the image of her working away, alone and exhausted, hovered in his thoughts. Regardless of Arthur’s desire for sleep,he knew he wouldn’t get a wink whilst knowing she still toiled. Especially when the reason for her harried determination was due to his presence in town.
A glutton for punishment? Perhaps. A fool? Most certainly. But for all that he bore the elevated title of “doctor,” Arthur Vaughn never claimed the lofty intelligence that so many of his peers did.
Blowing out the candle, Arthur left the bags and basket on the table and strode back out the door, following the lane to the Templetons’ home. No doubt the structure had some quaint name to its credit, as all the homes were named for the local plants and animals—Primrose Place, Ivy Grove, or his own Heathfield Cottage—but Arthur had never heard it referred to as anything but “the Templetons’.”
And as he stood once more before it, he found Miss Templeton still at the fireplace, sweat beading upon her forehead as she stirred something within a large copper pan. The massive slab of a worktable had been shunted to the side to make room for her work, and it was piled with bundles of herbs that had been pulled from their drying hooks so as not to get in the way.
Arthur spied no food at hand, and he knew it was likely Miss Templeton hadn’t eaten in some time. Only a small stool sat beside the fire to see to her comfort, though the lady wasn’t using it. When lost in her work, Miss Templeton seemed blind to all else, focused entirely on her task and unable to recall the needs of her body nor the ticking of the clock.
For all his determination to come here, Arthur didn’t know what he ought to do. He still wasn’t certain why he was there as his exhausted mind struggled to keep his thoughts organized. What could he do for her? What ought he to do? Arthur didn’t owe the lady anything. Yet his feet dragged him to the side door, and he watched her through the adjacent window.
Miss Templeton’s brows knitted together as she stared into the mixture; her lips tightened, her expression falling as she examined her work. The lady’s chin trembled, and she dropped the pan onto a corner of the worktable and collapsed onto thestool. Spine sagging, her eyes turned to the windows, and Arthur stiffened when he thought that she spied him, but her gaze was unfocused and empty; with the darkness enfolding him, he was shrouded from her view.
Then, with a shuddering breath, Miss Templeton burst into tears. Not little teardrops that slithered down her cheeks, but the sort of hopeless cries of one pushed beyond her breaking point.
Chapter 30
Even with the doors and windows closed, Arthur heard her gasping sobs, though she held her hands over her mouth to stifle them, and whatever aloofness and confusion he felt standing there disappeared at the sight of that indomitable lady crumbling. Arthur knocked on the door, and Miss Templeton jerked and drew in a sharp breath.
Wiping her apron across her face, she erased all evidence of that weak moment and straightened, her spine stiffening as though nothing untoward had happened. And when she opened the door, Arthur would never have known that anything was amiss, as the darkness muted even the redness in her eyes.
“Dr. Vaughn?” The mild curiosity fell from her expression, her brows rising as she gripped the side of the door. “What are you doing here at this hour?”
But before he could think how to answer that, Miss Templeton’s surprise vanished and her eyes widened as she hurried to say, “You have no reason to believe me, sir, but I promise I did nothing to adulterate your medicines. I know you said you did not require them any longer, but after everything that has happened…I thought…and I needed to return your bag as well… And…”
The lady stumbled over her words, her brows twisting together once more as her gaze pleaded with him to believe her.
“I promise, Dr. Vaughn—”
Arthur held up a staying hand, and her mouth snapped shut as she drew in a sharp breath, watching him as though awaiting a verdict.
“Had you wished to cause me such troubles, you wouldn’t have warned me about your brother’s mischief. As much as it pained me to break our business agreement, I cannot use your services because I cannot trust that he hasn’t meddled with them—”
“I give you my word—assuming you can believe it—that he was never in the same room with the medicines I delivered today. I guarded them zealously,” she said with a hint of desperation in her tone.
“I believe you.” And for all that it might sound like placation, Arthur realized it was true. Though Miss Templeton had employed some underhanded tactics, he couldn’t help but trust her in everything but her affection. “I was passing by and saw you working. It is late, and I thought you might require some assistance.”
Miss Templeton drew in a sharp breath, her muscles tightening as she stared at him, and Arthur wasn’t certain, but it looked as though her chin trembled once more.
“Of course you did,” she whispered in a quivering tone.
“What are you doing?”
“I am experimenting with palatable medicines for children. I’ve tried so many different ways, and nothing has worked,” she said with a shaky sigh. “I thought that perhaps I might be able to turn pills into comfits. They cannot hold as much medicine as powders, but if they were sugar-coated candies—”
“Then you could get children to swallow as many as necessary,” concluded Arthur with a nod. “That is an intriguing idea.”
Miss Templeton’s lips began to quiver as well whilst her posture stiffened. “I knew it would be difficult, as making comfits takes days and requires working with melted sugar—whichis contrarian at the best of times—but the Campbells are the only genteel family that still use our services, and if I cannot come up with a way to help Toliver take his medicines, I know we will lose them as well. But it isn’t working, no matter what I do. I finally had a batch that survived the first two days of sugar coating, only to have it burn tonight because I had to do the wretched things over the fire here rather than the kitchen so I wouldn’t disturb Peggy as she has enough to do without me keeping her up all night long. And I have ruined so many batches already. The cost of the staghorn alone is exorbitant, but I do not know what else to do…”
Words flooded forth, tripping over themselves as the torrent spilled out in a manner that reminded Arthur very much of her overwrought confession the other day. Everything Miss Templeton had buried came to life, pulling with it the tears she fought so hard to keep under control. Soon, her lungs were shuddering as she fought her own gasping breaths, the tears pouring down her cheeks as she wiped at them with frustrated swipes.
What could he say to such a swell of emotion? Having had a hand in some of those troubles, what could he do for her? Arthur’s chest ached as Miss Templeton fought so hard to gain control, and all the while it slipped further and further from her grasp. But then, he suspected that she needed the release as much as she’d needed to tell him all her wrongdoings during her confession.
This lady held so much in her heart, and Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else bothered to help bear the burden. He didn’t need to ask after her brother or the apprentice—one of whom ought to be at her side—for he knew they would be useless.
