Chapter 14
T he scent of damp soil, punctuated with notes of rosemary and mint, hung heavy in the air. With such wretched weather this summer, the plants were only just growing into a semblance of their usual size, with fuzzy stalks of meadowsweet and stringy bushes of chamomile finally taking shape. Despite the overcast sky, the enclosed garden pulsed with vibrancy; the bright orange and yellow of the marigolds and calendula sparkled amongst the vibrant green of the thyme and marshmallow leaves.
Kneeling on the ground, Violet bent over the planting beds, digging at the weeds that continued to sneak into the perfect rows of herbs and vegetables that supplied not only the medicines she produced but the family’s meals. The carrots were looking rather spindly, and the impatient part of her longed to see how they were progressing, but young Violet had learned quickly that pulling them prematurely did no good. Though they did taste all the sweeter.
Sitting on her heels, she dragged a forearm across her forehead, batting away the sweat that had gathered despite the bite to the air. Humming to herself, Violet paused as she considered just how quiet the garden was .
A stone wall enclosed the garden, and four alcoves were built into the back side, large enough for the beehives to rest. The skeps were nearly silent, with hardly any movement from the residents inside. A few bees moved in and out of the opening at the bottom of the woven hive, but it was too few. The chill wasn’t kind to them, either, and Violet prayed the skies would clear, else there wouldn’t be enough honey or comb to harvest.
Despite those worries, Violet was grateful for the weather at present, for it was unbearable to maintain the garden in the heat of summer. Being hunched over in the dirt was demanding enough on its own, but with the sun blazing down on her, it turned a chore into a torture. One never knew just how thoroughly one could sweat until such a moment.
“Vi?” called Lilibet from the garden gate.
Turning her head, Violet glanced at her sister-in-law, who waved at her without bothering to move toward her.
“I cannot find a basket,” she said with a frown. “I have looked all over, but Isaac and your mother don’t know where the servants keep them, and it’s Mrs. Stevens’ half-day and Peggy went to the shops.”
“I am almost finished here,” called Violet.
“I hate to press the issue, but it is urgent.” Lilibet’s tone echoed the apology etched in her cherubic features.
Straightening, Violet struggled to her feet as her back popped alarmingly. With the edge of her apron, she scrubbed at her hand, though it was difficult to find a patch unspoiled by mud and dirt. She cast a look at the work and smiled to herself. The pile of weeds on the ground beside her testified to just how much she’d accomplished, and though there was still more to be done, the beds were far cleaner than before.
The yarrow needed trimming, though there was little space in the herb garret to hang it. With the poor weather meddling with the plants, far too many were blooming at once, leaving all the drying hooks occupied.
“Vi?” called Lilibet, pulling her from her thoughts .
“Coming,” she replied, turning away to cross the garden and find her sister-in-law with a teasing smile on her lips. And Violet knew precisely what she was thinking.
“Yes, my name is Violet, and I am in the garden,” she murmured, eliciting giggles from Lilibet. Why her parents had chosen a name that denoted delicacy and demureness, she didn’t know. She embodied more of her younger sister’s stalwart “Martha,” but the damage had been done long before either Mr. or Mrs. Templeton realized their mistake.
“I do apologize,” said Lilibet with a wrinkle of her nose. “Clearly, you have heard such things before.”
“Your husband used to mock me mercilessly about it,” replied Violet, but then added with a smirk, “though I think it is more because he was jealous that I was so much taller than him.”
Taking her sister-in-law by the arm, Lilibet shook her head. “Do not listen to that fool.”
“You married ‘that fool.’”
“Proving I am quite the fool myself, and making us a perfect match,” said Lilibet with a laugh that Violet couldn’t help but share. “But I am desperate for your assistance. I’ve been looking all over and cannot find an empty basket, though I know you must have stacks of them about.”
Leading Lilibet back into the house, Violet moved slowly so as not to cause any unpleasant turn of the lady’s stomach. While Lilibet was rarely bothered by illness in the afternoon, she was only just feeling herself after being laid low for several days.
“What size of basket do you require?” asked Violet as they stepped through the back door, which opened into the kitchen—only to discover Isaac ransacking the cupboards.
“My dear husband is taking me on a picnic,” said Lilibet as she fairly flitted to the fellow’s side before taking his arm and lifting to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek—though the rascal turned at the last minute, capturing her lips instead .
Clearing her throat before the couple decided to venture into uncomfortable territory, Violet drew her brother’s attention to her. “We have a delivery arriving today, Isaac.”
“Timms can manage it,” replied her brother as he tucked his bride into his side, his hand resting on her stomach, though there was little sign of the growing child there. “As she missed out on the assembly, I thought it was only fair that we do something together to make up for it now that she is feeling herself again. Besides, in a few months, we shan’t have the freedom to hie off on a picnic, and we ought to take advantage of it while we can.”
Lilibet’s hand joined his, her expression beaming as she gazed up at her husband.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but can it not be put off until tomorrow? The weather might be better,” said Violet.
“But I won’t be here tomorrow,” said Isaac with a puzzled frown. “I told you about my trip.”
Freezing in place, Violet stared at him with only her eyes widening the slightest bit. “No. You didn’t mention anything about a trip.”
Isaac cocked his head. “I know I mentioned it. There’s a prize fight in Portsmouth that I am desperate to attend. Martha has space for me to stay with her.”
“But this is not a good time for you to leave Oakham, Isaac,” said Violet, glancing at both him and Lilibet, hoping the lady would rush to agree. Perhaps then the fellow might listen. “With Dr. Vaughn about, you need to remain here—”
“Nonsense. It’s the perfect time,” said Isaac. “Having a second physician in town will be a blessing. You cannot call on our patients, and now I shan’t leave them without some assistance. I can enjoy myself in Portsmouth without fretting.”
Violet gaped, not only because she couldn’t imagine her brother having spared a moment to fret about such things but because of his twisted logic that allowed him to call a spade a rake. Or a bucket. Violet tried to think of the opposite of a spade, but despite having just used the implement in the garden moments ago, her mind couldn’t supply anything that perfectly encapsulated her brother’s blindness.
But before she could think how to convince him, Isaac slanted a wry grin at his wife. “I am still hoping that I might persuade my lovely bride to join me so she can meet our sister, but she insists on remaining behind.”
Lilibet batted at his chest with the back of her hand and narrowed her eyes. “If you think I wish to traipse across Devon in my condition, then you are a bigger fool than I realize. Besides, the timing is perfect, as Mama has asked me to join them at home. My aunt and uncle are coming for a visit, and I haven’t seen them in an age. It’s too far to go back and forth from Stoneford every day.”
The girl straightened and turned wide eyes to Violet. “I do apologize for abandoning you and your mother.”
“Speaking of Mother,” interrupted Isaac as he glanced up from ransacking the cupboards, “she mentioned a cough this morning. I fear she might’ve caught something at the assembly, and you might want to give her some of your tisane. It works a treat.”
“Of course.” Violet’s brow creased as she thought back to the time they’d spent together today; Mama hadn’t mentioned a thing about it.
“And where is a basket?” asked Isaac, leaping back to the previous subject as though the rest had never happened. “I have selected the most delectable of treats, and I am determined to spirit my gorgeous wife away for the afternoon.”
A wicked part of Violet wanted to ignore the question and leave them to sort things out themselves, but her hand moved of its own accord, reaching into the cupboard beside the pantry.
“That is perfect,” said Lilibet, taking it from her as Isaac began scooping the food into the basket. She placed a few linen napkins in for good measure, and the pair swept out of the kitchen with a quick word of farewell whilst Violet remained there, frozen in place .
How long would Isaac be absent? She didn’t know, though she suspected it would be at least a fortnight. But whether it was two weeks or two months, now was a terrible time.
Her pulse spiked, piercing her temple, and Violet rubbed at the spot as she forced her feet to move. Making her way out of the kitchen, she recited her list of chores for the day, ticking each off as she moved through the corridor, which divided the two sides of the house, and turned into the room that served as the herb garret and office.
The scent of plants and spices wafted through the house, and when she stepped into the room the aroma was nearly overpowering. Long before she was born, the room had been a drawing room of sorts, but the shelves that had once housed heirlooms and art were now crowded with jars of every shape and size, holding various powders, plants, and pills, ready to be put to use. Bundles of plants hung from a rack fixed to the ceiling along the right side, and a large block table stood beneath with mortars and pestles, weights and scales, jars and boxes cluttering the surface.
On the opposite side of the long room sat Papa’s desk; Mr. Timms occupied the seat, his feet propped atop it, the heel of his shoe scuffing the polished surface.
“The shipment is to arrive any moment now,” said Violet, though the apprentice didn’t bother looking up from his magazine. “Mr. Timms!”
The young man finally tore his gaze from the illustrations and sighed.
“We have a large delivery coming today, and we need the worktable cleared for the crates and bags that are arriving,” she repeated, motioning behind her.
Mr. Timms scoffed and straightened his magazine. “You aren’t the Mr. Templeton I report to.”
The pain in her head grew, and Violet turned away, her hand kneading the knot forming in her forehead as she turned on her heel and returned the way she’d come .
That lazy good-for-nothing. She would not allow him to spoil her day. Her list of chores was quickly being completed, and that made for an excellent afternoon. The household accounts had been checked, the bills paid, the post answered, and the garden weeded—
Pausing in the corridor, Violet drew in a sharp breath. The weeding. That was nearly done. Just a little more, and that, too, would be ticked off her list. Then she could get to work pruning.