Clutching one of the pillows to her chest, Violet stared at her. “Pardon?”
“He’s sweet on you—”
“Please do not say that!” said Violet, casting a look around as though someone might overhear, though she spied no one in the corridor beyond. “He is a good man who has already had his reputation damaged by such speculations, but I give you my word that there is nothing between us but friendship. I will admit that I admire him greatly, but do not assume anything more, Felicity. Please.”
“I know you’ve claimed it was impossible, but you two are often in each other’s company. Spending hours together. Surely, that is significant.”
Violet’s stomach churned, the bile seeming to burn through her. Not again! Not another rumor for Dr. Vaughn to bear. He didn’t deserve to be the object of speculation. With silent words, she sent a plea heavenward that she could quash it before the lies ran rampant; Violet may not be worthy of divine intervention, but surely, that good man had suffered enough because of her.
*
Eavesdropping was beneath a gentleman, and until that moment, Arthur hadn’t thought himself capable of such underhanded behavior. Yet the conversation that had followed him into the corridor had seized his attention so thoroughly that he couldn’t force his feet from the spot as he considered the possibility that Miss Templeton might leave Oakham in pursuit of a position.
For all that being a governess would grant her an income, it was a difficult life. Forever separated from both the gentry and the servants, it left one in a state of unenviable loneliness. To say nothing of the powerlessness of the position if one’s mistress and master were cruel or dishonorable. The income gave the lady a semblance of freedom, but it was naught but a gilded cage in which she was at the mercy of a world that rarely treated vulnerable people kindly.
His staying here was driving her into that precarious situation. Miss Templeton labeled herself selfish for attempting to force him from town, but what did that say about him that he was doing the same to her? True, it wasn’t purposeful at first, but now that he knew the full extent of his actions, would he stay the course?
Forcing his feet to move, Arthur fully intended to leave his hiding place—when the sound of his name forced him to a stop.
“What about Dr. Vaughn?”
Mrs. Finch’s question was so pointed, with an insinuation so rife in the tone, that Arthur’s cheeks (though they were unseen to both) burned red—doubly so when the lady began discussing his attempts to woo Miss Templeton.
“Please do not say that!”
Five words, and they drove deep into Arthur’s heart, filling him with far more pain than any words ought. But he supposed it was as much the sound of horror in her voice as it was the actual statement. Forcing himself away, he strode down the corridor and into the adjacent room that served as the family’s waiting room.
Sofas and armchairs had been brought in to provide enough seating for the horde, but in the far corner sat a piano, which occupied Finch’s attention. A decently merry tune sprang from the keys, and two twin girls spun about in circles as they cheered for their uncle to play faster. But the notes came to a sudden end when Finch’s eyes lifted to spy Arthur.
The gentleman’s face grew ashen, and he leapt from the piano seat. The rest of the family all halted in place, staring at Arthur like statues.
“Is something the matter? Felicity—” asked Finch, rushing to the doorway.
Arthur forced his expression to clear and raised a staying hand. “She is well. I assure you. The baby is in the proper position, and her pains are coming steadily. Mrs. Finch is doing beautifully.”
Finch’s shoulders sagged, and he let out a ragged breath. “Heavens, man. You looked as though she was on death’s door.”
“I apologize. I was thinking of other things,” he replied, shaking his head at himself at having such a slip; one of the first things a doctor learned was to school his expression.
Even without the music, the children returned to their dancing and the others continued with their conversation; Mr. and Mrs. Phinneas Finch enjoyed some tea and cakes with their eldest daughter, whilst the three lads now down from school sat in varying poses of boredom.
But Finch remained standing before Arthur, his gaze turning speculative as he asked, “Does this have anything to do with Miss Templeton?”
Chapter 37
There was no hiding the responding blush, as Arthur was already feeling entirely too discomposed to rein in the emotion.
One of the young girls, who looked to be around six or seven, came to her uncle’s side and tugged his frockcoat. “Will you play for us again?”
Finch glanced at Arthur with a look rife with speculation and then shook his head. “Not right now, Ginny. Perhaps Joan will play for you.”
That was all the suggestion it took for her to spin about and grab her twin by the hand before accosting their eldest sister with pleas for music. Before Arthur could take his previous seat, Finch nodded toward the far end of the room, where a few armchairs sat forlornly. The pianoforte began playing once more, accompanied by the giggles of the two young girls, which made it easy enough for Arthur and Finch to have a modicum of privacy.
“Now, what has you looking so sour?” asked Finch with a frown.
“I overheard your wife and Miss Templeton speaking,” said Arthur as they took their seats. The lady’s words rested heavilyin his heart and mind, making it impossible for him to think of anything else. And for once, his tongue loosened. “She’s leaving Oakham. It seems I am driving her from her home.”
“That is sad, to be certain, but you’ve known that was a possibility for some time,” said Finch with a knowing glint in his eye. “Why is it troubling you now?”
