Rivals and Roses (The Vaughns #1)

Chapter 12

M ama watched her with a puzzled frown for a heartbeat, but before Violet could explain, the lady threw up her hands and shook her head. “Not again, Vi. You know your father’s feelings on the matter, and I will not budge.”

“But if we were to open an apothecary shop in town, it could provide a steady income for us, regardless of what happens with Isaac’s medical practice. The townsfolk do not always call him for their medicines, choosing instead to travel all the way to Bentmoor’s apothecary—”

“I will not hear of it, Violet Templeton,” said Mama in a sharp tone before casting a look over her shoulder at those roundabout. Lowering her voice, she added, “We will not disgrace this family by lowering ourselves to become tradesmen and shopkeepers .”

She said the titles as though they were akin to “murderer” and “blasphemer.” Then, lifting her chin with a hint of pride, she added, “We are a physician’s family. Your father and Isaac may not have expensive credentials like Dr. Vaughn, but they are physicians . True gentlemen. It is bad enough that they’ve had to debase themselves with performing the duties of a common surgeon from time to time, but to surrender our standing by opening an apothecary shop? How could we face our friends and neighbors after we turn our home into a storefront? How can you even suggest such a thing?”

Violet’s shoulders sank. There was no need to press the issue, for she knew precisely how it would end. Even if she had the knowledge and funds to open a shop of her own, Violet required her family’s assistance to convert the front parlor into the shopfront; rent was too steep to let another building, even assuming she could sort out how to let one.

“Oh, my darling,” said Mama, her expression crumpling. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but surely, you can see that it is impossible. I have no doubt you could make the venture a success, but do you truly wish to subject your family to such an affront? Lilibet’s family is of high standing in Stoneford; do you think they would appreciate their son-in-law and future grandson being in trade ? I wouldn’t be surprised if they cut all connection to us.”

“I would think that a banker—a profession that skirts the line of gentility—would appreciate doing what one must to provide for one’s family,” replied Violet.

“Oh, Vi. Always so fretful.” With a wry smile, she shook her head. “I do not know where this brooding nature of yours comes from. Heaven knows it is not from your father or me.”

A conundrum Violet had pondered many a time, for though her parents were kind and dear people, they hadn’t the ability to plan beyond the present.

“Your coiffure is lovely tonight. Suits you perfectly.” Mama’s gaze softened as she studied her daughter’s face in a manner that set Violet fidgeting: she knew what was to come next. With a sigh, Mama shook her head. “I do not know why the gentlemen of Oakham are so blind to your attractions, Vi. Any man would be blessed to have you as his wife. You do so much for the family and are so very pretty. ”

There was no point in arguing the fact, for Violet had a wealth of experience that told her whatever her mother saw (unreliable source that she was), gentlemen did not agree. So, she remained silent as Mama patted her on the cheek.

Then, with a tsk, Mama’s expression lightened as she ran a finger along the ends of the ribbon tied up in Violet’s hair. “Hair ribbons remind me of your father. He purchased them by the bolt for you.”

Mama smiled at the memory, and Violet forced an echoing one without bothering to correct the lady. Though Papa certainly had adored such little presents, Violet hadn’t been the recipient.

“I do not recall having seen you wear this before,” said Mama with a hint of a frown.

Violet shifted in place, her smile faltering. “Martha gave it to me when she left Oakham. She has bolts of them, and I didn’t have any to match this gown.”

“That is so like your sister,” said Mama, her smile returning in force. Someone called to her, and the lady perked, her grin broadening as she waved a hand above her head. “Coming, Mrs. Atwell.”

Turning back to her daughter with a pitying look, Mama tutted. “Do not fret, my dear. We will manage. Your father and your brother have done all they can to provide for us, and we needn’t fear.”

And with that, she swept away as Violet’s heart sank. Sighing, she turned down the stairs and moved back to the dancing, as there was no use in standing there.

No matter how much faith Mama placed in those two, it wouldn’t alter the truth. The family was faltering, and ignoring reality would never solve matters. A dozen ideas drifted through her mind, and Violet shifted through each quickly, dismissing each as soon as it presented itself.

Relocation wasn’t a possibility; even if they could afford such a thing, Mama wouldn’t leave Isaac, and he didn’t wish to leave. To say nothing of the fact that they were unlikely to find another town that was so forgiving and patient with her brother’s professional shortcomings.

Another source of revenue wasn’t presenting itself; with the household and Isaac’s medicines to manage, Violet hadn’t time to spare taking on additional work—to say nothing of the fact that unless she wished to be a scullery maid, there were no positions available for her in the village. Isaac certainly wouldn’t take on additional work.

And it wasn’t as though the household accounts were extravagant; Violet could think of a few areas in which they could trim the fat, but it wasn’t enough to offset the damage Dr. Vaughn had (and would) do.

“Miss Templeton, how good to see you tonight.” Mrs. Wolverton drew up beside her with what Violet had come to think of as the lady’s “hostess” expression. A bright—though demure—smile graced her lips, and she surveyed the room like a queen, treating the assembly as her personal court with the people of Bentmoor and Oakham there to amuse her.

“You have outdone yourself, madam,” replied Violet, motioning to the gathering. “Tonight has been a delight.”

“I saw you looking about. Are you hoping to secure a partner? I know of a few gentlemen who would be willing—”

Violet held up her hands to stop the lady, though she didn’t bother to address Mrs. Wolverton’s word choice, as Violet would never wish for a partner who was merely willing . “No, thank you. I—”

“Miss Templeton,” called Mrs. Lark, who rushed over with such enthusiasm that the flowers pinned to her turban looked ready to tumble free. “Is it true that you assisted Dr. Vaughn in his surgery?”

Mrs. Wolverton’s brows rose at that, her eyes darting to Violet. “I heard about the incident with Mr. Evans, but I didn’t know you were tied to it.”

Mrs. Lark nodded, dislodging a sprig that fell to the ground. “Dr. Vaughn has been speaking of the aid you offered. Is it true? Did you assist him in performing surgery on the road to Oakham?”

“Yes,” said Violet.

Another idea struck her. One that she had been studiously ignoring since Dr. Vaughn’s arrival. There was another course of action to take, but the thought made everything inside her clench, tightening each muscle until she felt strung as taut as a piano string.

Whatever Mr. Finch’s concerns about the health and safety of the village, Violet knew she hadn’t caused any damage. Though plenty flawed, she wasn’t one to allow harm to befall others, and she would simply have to be more careful about trusting Isaac’s recommendations. How she would do so was a mystery, but one that Violet would sort out.

Despite her broad knowledge of medicine, the rest of her education had been traditional enough that she could secure a position as a governess or teacher. Medicine would not be in her future, but she would survive. However, her family depended on this income.

Her coming niece or nephew needed a home. Money for food and clothes. If Isaac were to lose his position, what else could he do to provide for his wife and child? And Mama? Martha might be able to take her in, and Franklin seemed a good sort who wouldn’t begrudge shouldering the burden of his mother-in-law. But the youngest Templeton had settled in Portsmouth, and Mama would have to leave her home. Abandon her friends and everything she knew.

All these thoughts flew through Violet’s mind, making the stark reality clear in a heartbeat. Mrs. Lark had asked a simple question, but in it, she’d provided a possibility.

Refusing to question it further, Violet hurried to add, “And it is a good thing I was there, for Dr. Vaughn required much assistance.”

Not a single word was untrue; she refused to allow a false word to slip past her tongue after having given her brother a lecture for his lies. Just a touch of emphasis placed on the final word. That was all. A little thing. Hardly noteworthy.

But both ladies perked at it.

Though far more well-intentioned than most, Mrs. Lark couldn’t ignore such a juicy morsel. And though she called Bentmoor home, her reach extended far beyond its border.

“Is that so?” she asked, glancing at Mrs. Wolverton, whose only sign of surprise was a slight raise of her brows.

“Do you not think it odd that a man of his education would choose to settle in a village like Oakham?” asked Violet. “Even your Bentmoor, which is far larger and with far higher demand, has only locally trained physicians and surgeon-apothecaries, who learn at their father’s or uncle’s knees just as they’ve always done. Not one of them is a proper doctor.”

Not a lie. Not a single falsehood. Every word Violet spoke was true and naught but the same questions she’d asked herself since having met him—even if she knew the reason wasn’t incompetence.

Glancing between two of the most influential ladies of Bentmoor, she added, “Why would a gentleman go to such effort and expense to earn a doctorate, only to move to an inconsequential village? Surely, of all the towns in our quiet corner of Devon, Bentmoor would be the more logical choice.”

The pair perked again at this mention, their minds whirling with that implication.

“That is odd, indeed,” said Mrs. Lark.

“I heard he hails from a very prestigious medical family in London. Surely, their connections could’ve secured him a better situation even if his skills were only mediocre,” added Mrs. Wolverton.

“And can we trust a physician who cannot even treat himself?” asked Mrs. Lark with a faint grimace. “Surely, if he were skilled at all, Dr. Vaughn would’ve cured his baldness. He is far too young to be afflicted with such a disease.”

Violet said nothing as the two discussed the peculiarity of Dr. Vaughn’s choice, allowing the ladies to take the insinuation from there. Soon, more of Bentmoor would be whispering, and it couldn’t fail to catch the attention of Oakham in time. Perhaps a few other well-placed whispers might help it along.

Pain spiked in the back of her throat, and Violet couldn’t ease the guilt that drove it. She hated to darken Dr. Vaughn’s reputation, but Oakham could not support two physicians, and Violet would do what she must to ensure the Templetons remained.