Rivals and Roses (The Vaughns #1)

Chapter 16

A rthur’s voice rose of its own volition, drawing the attention of both the driver and the lady to him—and carrying through the house enough to tear the apprentice from his magazine. Miss Templeton’s brows rose, and though Arthur was sorry for the language, he wouldn’t apologize for the honest sentiment that drew it forth.

“Give that here,” said Arthur.

He knew he ought to moderate his tone but seeing her treated like a workhorse broke his hold on his emotions. Miss Templeton stared at him as he lifted the sack from her shoulder with one arm and thrust the flowers and basket at her before steadying his shoulder.

“Dr. Vaughn…” began Miss Templeton as a slew of objections rose to her lips.

“No,” was all the answer he was willing and able to give at the moment. Turning a gimlet eye on the driver, Arthur scowled. “Are you going to assist the lady or not?”

“Not when the ‘lady’ is a good deal larger than me,” he muttered. “She’s capable of managing on her own. ”

Being a rather quiet fellow, Arthur hadn’t thought himself capable of a temper, but those words sparked a flame inside him that burned through his veins as never before.

“Whether or not she’s capable isn’t the issue, you ill-mannered lout.” Arthur’s voice lowered as heat infused his words. “She is a lady in every sense of the word, and you will treat her as such. Now, start hauling in the supplies. Do not make me tell you again!”

And with that, Arthur turned on his heel, hauling the sack inside the shop with Miss Templeton following after; at least she wasn’t protesting any longer. Stepping into the office, he spied the worktable, but the surface was cluttered with tools and paraphernalia. The desk was unoccupied, but he wouldn’t dare damage it by putting the sack there, so he set it on the ground.

“What do you think you are doing?” Arthur demanded as he glared at the young man sitting at the desk.

The lad’s mouth gaped, his brows rising. “I was just reading, sir.”

“No, you are just lazing about, wasting your time reading frivolous garbage whilst your parents paid good money to secure you an apprenticeship. Shift yourself!” he barked, and the apprentice’s feet flew from the table and drew him upright.

“Stop leaving Miss Templeton to do your work, and unload the cart. Be smart about it,” ordered Arthur.

And with that, the young man scurried out the door. Miss Templeton stood to one side, her mouth agape as she stared at Arthur. Whether or not he was being domineering or rude, he didn’t care in the slightest.

Nudging her toward the seat the apprentice had vacated, he said, “Sit.”

Miss Templeton’s mouth moved as though to object, though no words came forth as she stared at him for a moment before doing as bidden, setting the basket on the floor beside her and clutching the roses. In short order, the three men formed a chain and had the supplies pouring quickly into the workroom.

“That’s linen for bandages,” said Miss Templeton, rising from her seat, though she lowered herself again when Arthur leveled a warning look at her. Despite the mess on the table, the office was neatly organized, and it was easy to see where others of its kind were kept.

She made a move to rise again (to which Arthur gave her another warning look), and she sank down again. “That is charcoal for—”

“Poultices,” he finished. “I know.”

“Of course,” she murmured, her hands holding tight to the flowers and her fingers fiddling with the velvety petals as he placed the item where the other poultice supplies were kept.

In short order, they had the cart emptied, and the driver scrambled into his seat, sending the horse down the road before Arthur could say another word. The apprentice stood just inside the door, his spine ramrod straight like a soldier reporting to a commanding officer. Though even a private wouldn’t be quaking so badly when facing a general.

“Do you know where the rest goes?” asked Arthur.

The apprentice nodded.

“Then get to it.” Glancing at the mess atop the worktable, Arthur nodded to it. “And clean the office, while you are at it. That worktable ought to have been cleared properly before the delivery. And everything glass and metal needs to be polished.”

With that, the young man scurried about the work, and Arthur snatched up the abandoned magazine, dumping it into Miss Templeton’s basket as he offered her a hand. This certainly hadn’t gone as he’d intended, but there was no helping matters. Just the thought of their rude treatment toward Miss Templeton had his pulse quickening once more, and Arthur fought to keep himself from berating the apprentice; the lad certainly deserved it, but he’d already overstepped.

“Miss Templeton, I was hoping you might have some time this afternoon…” For all that Arthur’s fury had been pushing hi m through the past few minutes, the moment he turned his mind toward the business that brought him to Miss Templeton’s door, his nerves wrestled for control. Especially as the apprentice was standing within hearing, though the young man set to his work with a fervor.

“I am taking your advice,” blurted Arthur.

Miss Templeton’s brows rose. “Are you? What advice?”

“To purchase a horse, and I was hoping you might have some time this afternoon to teach me some of the finer points. I know the basics, but I fear I’m an abysmal rider.” There. He’d managed the invitation. An outing together. If dancing with her twice hadn’t conveyed his intentions well enough, surely, this would make it clear.

“I am glad you are so eager to learn, but as I ride sidesaddle, I fear I am a poor teacher for you,” she said with a considering frown. “I am certain my brother would be willing if you do not wish to ask Mr. Finch.”

Arthur held back a sigh. He didn’t wish to ask any “Mr.” for instruction, and he couldn’t say for certain whether her objections were personal or merely practical. Drawing in a sharp breath, he decided to change tack.

“Thank you for the suggestion, Miss Templeton. I shall give it due consideration,” he said, searching for the proper words. “Perhaps you might show me around town. If you have some time this afternoon. Your apprentice has this in hand.” He paused with a significant tone and pointed toward the young man, who nodded vigorously.

“I will have it all cataloged and in its proper place before you return, Miss Templeton,” added the lad.

Turning his attention back to Miss Templeton, Arthur gave as warm a smile as he could manage whilst his insides felt swarmed by angry bees. The lady stood for a moment, watching him in silence as she considered it.

“There’s hardly anything to show, Dr. Vaughn. If you have walked from your home to mine, you’ve seen the majority of Oakham,” she said with a frown. But she cut her words short, straightened her spine, and gave a self-deprecating shake of her head. “Oh, of course. You wished to discuss some business, didn’t you? In all the confusion, it slipped my mind. I do have more work to do this afternoon, but if we are not gone too long, I have time enough for anything you wish to discuss.”

In London, Arthur had witnessed more than a few hot air balloon ascensions; it was thrilling to see a person floating through the air like a bird. And the moment Miss Templeton spoke, he felt like one of the balloons, which had sprung a leak and plummeted to the ground. Thankfully, no one had been seriously injured then, but Arthur couldn’t say the same of his pride at having Miss Templeton misinterpret the meaning behind the invitation.

“If you will give me a moment to freshen up, I would be pleased to join you on a walk about town,” said Miss Templeton before turning and hurrying away.

She’d accepted. That was something to celebrate. Even if she didn’t understand the significance yet. As much as Arthur longed to tell her that all of it was naught but an excuse to secure time with her, surely, it wasn’t necessary to say aloud. Eventually, intentions had to be explicitly declared, but no courting beau approached a lady and simply said, “I wish to court you.”

No, there were dances and time together. Bouquets and tokens. Signs of one’s interest that conveyed as clearly as words. And Arthur simply had to be patient as he reinforced his intentions with his actions.

***

Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Violet tried to understand the strange turns her life had taken. If not for the fact that her dreams were never vivid enough to confuse with reality, she might’ve believed this day was naught but a fantasy her mind had conjured. Yet here she was, walking down the country lane with Dr. Vaughn at her side .

How had she arrived at this point? True, the gentleman had lured her out with promises of some mysterious “business” he wished to discuss, but it hadn’t taken much to convince her to join him. Violet’s heart burned as she replayed the image of his temper flaring as he took charge of the shipment. How sternly he’d insisted on not only carrying her tools in from the garden but that she sit as they managed the rest. The defense Dr. Vaughn had laid on her behalf.

“…She is a lady in every sense of the word, and you will treat her as such…”

Violet had been a large babe that had grown into a large lady, and for all that manners demanded men treat women with dignity and respect, her stature had always deemed her as not female in their eyes, as though such consideration was only reserved for those of delicate build—which Mr. Sprat had so thoroughly demonstrated when he’d scoffed at the thought of assisting someone larger than himself. Miss Violet Templeton was built like a man, not a woman. No matter that her figure clearly displayed female curves.

And then Dr. Vaughn had swooped in like a vengeful knight, there to defend her honor. The image played in her mind again and again, and Violet couldn’t help the surge of warmth that swept through her and settled into her heart at the memory.

Shaking her head at herself, she shied away from such thoughts. They wouldn’t help matters. Thinking of him kindly wouldn’t alter the fact that he was her enemy, not her friend. No matter how considerate he was. For the good of her family, Violet had to drive him from town, and she mustn’t forget it.

Yet that drew up memories of Dr. Vaughn’s anger toward Mr. Finch, which made her insides wriggle. Shifting her shawl, she itched at her neck, but that did nothing to relieve the prickles that ran down her spine. Everyone was justified in their own minds. Mr. Finch had thought himself on the side of right when he’d misled Dr. Vaughn; could she now take similar actions to drive the fellow away ?

But what other answer was there?

Their present system of treating patients wasn’t ideal, but it served Oakham’s needs. Violet would swear before a magistrate that the survival rate hadn’t declined in the years since Papa’s passing. If the town deigned to allow a female to serve their medical needs, then Violet would manage it all on her own.

And Mama would suffer an apoplexy. If opening a shop was beneath them, having a daughter take up a man’s work would eviscerate their reputation. No, it was only acceptable if they pretended Violet had little to do with it all.

Or if the townsfolk had no other options.

Now that one had presented itself, Violet knew Isaac’s practice wouldn’t survive long. He cared little for medicine, but it wasn’t as though one could change professions willy-nilly. One could not secure a livelihood without money and connections, and Isaac was sorely lacking both. And though she was content to allow him to pay for his mistakes, it was his family who would suffer for them.

Besides, Dr. Vaughn was so capable. He could relocate to another town and do well for himself. Easily. Not so for Isaac. That logic allowed a little of her stomach to settle, but not when the memory of his kindness continued to replay in her thoughts.

Clearing her throat, Violet nodded back to the buildings as they drifted past the edge of Oakham. “As you’ve seen the village, I thought I might show you some of the country roundabout.”

“That would be lovely,” said Dr. Vaughn with a smile that did nothing for her equilibrium.

So often, his expression was a tight thing that showed more wariness than warmth, but when relaxed, his face radiated with… Violet tried to put a finger on the sentiment, but she couldn’t quantify it beyond the fact that the sight made her feel lighter; as though his contentment and joy were contagious, but instead of traveling by miasmas and foul vapors, one need only se e it to be infected. If he employed that more often, the unmarried ladies in the area would grow even more twitter-pated than they already were for the man.

But Violet Templeton couldn’t make friends with the doctor, so she forced her attention to the road ahead, pointing them toward a forest.

Clearing her throat again, she asked, “What is it that you wished to discuss with me?”

“As I said, I was ignorant about the situation before I arrived, but now that I’m here, there’s not much to be done,” he said with a frown. “My lease for the cottage is binding for the next two years, and though there are ways around that, it would be very difficult for me to relocate so soon after arriving in Oakham. And even if I could pack up and leave tomorrow, I gave my word that I would deliver Finch’s child.”

Drawing in a breath, Dr. Vaughn continued, “But I want to have peace between your family and me, and I think there might be a way for us all to coexist.”

The tightness in her chest eased, and Violet’s heart rose at the thought. Though the world around them was still dim and dingy, it felt as though the sunshine peeked through the clouds, and her footsteps grew lighter as they reached the edge of the forest.

“I had wanted to speak to your brother about the matter,” said Dr. Vaughn. “However, Mr. Finch assured me that you are the proper Templeton to speak to.”

Violet’s feet jerked to a halt, her eyes darting to Dr. Vaughn. “And no doubt by now, the village has told you what a hoyden I am, as I have the gall to do more than what is deemed appropriate work for a genteel lady, though they never have any suggestions about how I can meet those standards and provide for my family. Better we starve.”

His brows rose at that. “If that makes you a hoyden, then it appears all the wives in my profession should be called such. My own mother is a hoyden of the highest degree. ”

Gripping the edge of her shawl, Violet pulled it tighter around her as the gentleman watched her with a considering expression before motioning her forward.

“I see I shall have to convince you,” he said with a slight laugh to his tone. Slanting her a look, Dr. Vaughn added, “I don’t know of any medical man whose wife does not assist him in some fashion. My mother spent as much time mixing medicines as my father and often assisted in surgeries. Such things may be uncommon in the country, but I assure you that in the city, it is commonplace in my profession. It would be impossible for me to see all my patients and make the medicines they require without assistance.”

Giving her a vague shrug as they delved deeper into the forest, he added, “But then, isn’t that the nature of marriage? Unless a couple is blessed with an independent fortune that allows them to live in luxury, most wives do more than keep house—though heaven knows that alone is an occupation in and of itself. Whether elevating their husband’s social standing or participating in the work itself, I cannot think of any man who doesn’t owe a significant portion of his success to his wife, even if no one but him sees the effort she puts forth.”

For all that Violet had learned long ago not to countenance the villagers’ judgments, hearing Dr. Vaughn dismiss their criticism of hoyden ladies so thoroughly couldn’t help but lighten her spirits. And she found herself wishing that the path ahead would stretch on indefinitely.