“Should we place her in a pillory? Force her to flog herself in front of the congregation? Or ought we to transport her for her crimes?” asked Arthur with a frown. “How much should she be punished to compensate for the harm she’s done? As far as I can see, all she did was bruise your pride, Miss Bacon, and if I—who stood to lose much more from her actions—can forgive her, what right do you have to be angry?”
“Mr.Templeton lied to me—”
Arthur considered that. “Or didMissTempleton simply imply something vague, knowing you would infer the meaning you wished?”
“You are defending her?” asked Miss Bacon, gaping.
“And if I am, are you going to turn Oakham against me? Punish me by running me out of town like you are doing to the Templetons? You will forgive me if I hold little value in your village’s good opinion, for you all were far too eager to cast aside a family who were your friends and neighbors for generations. And I may be more skilled at my profession than her brother, but Miss Templeton is one of the finest apothecaries I’ve ever seen, and none of you value her, choosing instead to mock her ability and belittle her achievements.”
Arthur scoffed, shaking his head at her. “Miss Templeton helped me to save Mr. Evans’ leg and life, and no matter how much I objected, no one gave her any of the credit she deserved. She has served this community to the best of her ability, and you dubbed her ‘Mr.’ Templeton as though she is unworthy of common decency. I do not know why Oakham is determined to hate her, but I refuse to be party to it, and I will not listen to anyone disparage or disrespect her ever again.”
Miss Bacon stared at him for one long moment before turning around with a delicate huff. Arthur watched as she flounced away like the bubble-headed ninny she was, and he drew in a deep breath to calm the frustration boiling inside him. Before coming to Oakham, Arthur hadn’t thought himself a man with a temper, but it seemed he’d been incorrect.
At least when it came to a particular subject.
When his gaze turned back to his companions, Arthur wasn’t surprised to find them watching him closely. He hadn’t wished for privacy with Miss Bacon, after all. What he hadn’t anticipated was the level of speculation that blazed in their eyes as the pair watched him. He decided that ignoring it was best, so he turned his attention away from them once more and waited for them to return to their previous subject.
But he felt their interest sharpen when his eyes (of their own accord) moved immediately to Miss Templeton.
“I’ve never heard you string so many words together unless it has to do with medicine,” said Finch with raised brows.
“Did you expect me to stand there and ignore Miss Bacon’s aspersions against Miss Templeton?” asked Arthur.
“Of course not, but that was…” Finch’s words drifted away, but his smile grew when his wife supplied one.
“Thorough.”
Arthur gave a vague hum that was neither acceptance nor denial of that fact. The word was apt enough, but Mrs. Finch’s insinuating tone was another thing altogether.
“All in all, I feel as though I owe her a great debt,” said Arthur.
“How so?” asked Finch with an astonished chuckle.
“Miss Templeton wasn’t haphazard when she planted the ideas. The ladies she targeted were the ones who plagued me the most with their determined advances, and they were so easily convinced that I was enamored with them that they told anyone who would listen,” said Arthur. “Now, their pride is too wounded for them to make another attempt. In one fell swoop, Miss Templeton rid me of some very unwanted attention.”
Finch frowned. “But I thought you were looking to marry.”
“Not to someone who views me as a prize to win,” replied Arthur.
“Amen, Dr. Vaughn,” said Mrs. Finch with a nod. “Do not settle for anything less than someone who values you for your sake.”
A smile crossed his lips, and once more, Arthur’s gaze fell to the lady who seemed to fit that requirement more and more. Mr. Gadd gave her one of those irritating grins, babbling some nonsense that Miss Templeton pretended to find amusing (how could he not see the tension in her shoulders?) before the gentleman wandered over to queue for the cider.
“She’s alone now,” murmured Finch, but he was silenced when his wife gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs.
Arthur ignored them both. Though he’d heard tell of Lammas, London wasn’t one to celebrate the beginning of the harvest season, as the heart of the city had no harvest to speak of, and though the entertainments here were far less extravagant or awe-inspiring than the offerings found in Town, the quaintness of the traditions more than made up for the simplicity with which they celebrated.
He longed to steal an afternoon with Miss Templeton as they enjoyed the festivities. To have a drink or two as they listened to the country tunes played by the tiny band of musicians and indulged in some of the finest bread and cheese he’d ever tasted. A perfect way to pass a few hours.
But curiosity had been eating at him for some weeks, and Arthur couldn’t help but seize the moment to satiate it.
“Please excuse me,” he said with a vague nod toward the Finches. He strode over to where the popinjay stood alone (for once), waiting for cider.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Vaughn,” said Mr. Gadd with a nod. “How are you enjoying yourself?”
“It’s delightful,” said Arthur. “How is your mother faring?”
“She’s doing much better and singing your praises,” said Mr. Gadd as they arrived at the front of the line, taking up two mugs of cider. Arthur ignored the drinks and followed the gentleman as he moved to return to his sweetheart’s side.
