Chapter 17
T he distant sound of water drew Violet’s gaze from the ground to the surrounding forest, drifting over the swaths of greenery that enveloped them; for all that the skies were gray, the leaves sparked with life, bringing with them a dash of sunshine. The road cut a swath through the undergrowth, drawing them deeper in until they could no longer see the fields beyond, and the crisp scent of the river filled her nose before they arrived at the bend.
Dr. Vaughn stopped as they spied the Little Leigh River. The water was clear enough to see the rocks lining the bed, blending their brown hue with the reflection of the green leaves above. Despite being quite wide, the river in this part was shallow enough to ford, though long before anyone alive could recall, the townsfolk had built a clapper bridge across it.
Large boulders formed the piers that held the structure aloft, and thin slabs of slate were laid across the tops, allowing the water to flow freely beneath and providing a relatively smooth surface to cross. Despite having seen it many times before, Violet couldn’t help but be impressed by the simple engineering that had managed to stand strong for so long .
Leading him to the water’s edge, she ducked beneath the hanging branches that formed a green tunnel and stepped onto the stone walkway, making her way past the foliage’s reach to sit on the center of the bridge. Her stone was quite long, some five or six feet, allowing enough space for them to sit side by side and look down at the water.
With how wet the summer had been, the river was swollen, and she kept a firm hand on her skirts so they wouldn’t fall into the water, but it was still low enough that her soles only occasionally skimmed the surface. In the far distance, children had their trousers and skirts hiked up as they splashed around the shallows, not caring in the slightest that it was far too cold for such antics. But then, Violet had done the same when she was small. Such things never mattered much then. They were far more focused on building their own river crossing, though it lacked the structure of a proper bridge and formed more of a dam.
“This is magnificent,” said Dr. Vaughn, his eyes drifting across the trees and water.
“They do not have sights like this in London?” she asked with a faint smile.
“There are some beautiful parts of the city, but nothing like this.”
Crossing her ankles, Violet drew in a deep breath and swung her feet, sending little ripples in the water when her soles skittered across the surface. “The river goes all the way to Harley Lake, near Bentmoor, but this is my favorite stretch.”
“I can see why.”
The pair sat silently with the trickle of water skipping over stones and children’s laughter carrying on the breeze. Though Violet knew there was business to discuss, she couldn’t help but enjoy the moment before drawing in a deep breath and turning her gaze to Dr. Vaughn.
“Now, what is this grand plan of yours that will allow us to live in peace? ”
The gentleman chuckled. “You make it sound as though we are at war, Miss Templeton.”
Violet feigned a smile as she ought, but a chill ran down her spine at the truth behind that description. “What is your proposition?”
Dr. Vaughn’s gaze met hers, and she was struck by the sight. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen blue eyes before, but his were such a rich shade. Not the muddled blue-gray one often found, but almost like the blue of a hydrangea. He sat there for a long moment, merely holding her gaze, and Violet didn’t know what he was thinking, nor did she feel inclined to rush his thoughts. The gentleman was not one to speak hastily, and she rather liked that about him. His words held meaning.
Clearing his throat, the gentleman turned his gaze to the water again. “I know Oakham is too small to require multiple physicians, but what if I were to commission you to make the medicines I prescribe?”
Violet’s heart sank and her legs slackened, hanging limp from the bridge as she stared down into the water.
“I sense that your brother isn’t wholly enamored with being a physician, so this would allow him to focus more on the manufacturing. With your skill guiding it, surely, it is quite profitable,” he continued.
Truth was rarely a happy thing. Yes, it was imperative to a better life, but far too often, it did not coincide with that which one hoped to happen. Truth swooped in to ruin best-laid plans and the grand dreams of the future, and for all that Violet had longed for his plan to be the solution to their troubles, truth wouldn’t allow it.
And some part of her didn’t wish to dissuade Dr. Vaughn. His tone was so pleased and hopeful that it made her feel like a wretched beast for dashing them so thoroughly. Yet presenting him with the reality of their situation may be the easiest manner in which to convince him to leave as soon as the Finches’ child was born .
“You cannot sustain yourself on seeing patients alone,” began Violet.
“I do not require much to sustain myself. I didn’t come here looking for an extravagant life. I just want peace and quiet.” Dr. Vaughn paused, drawing her gaze to him, and she spied a wistful smile. “No doubt others would laugh at me for wanting so little and would likely think I am settling for an inferior life, one where I am not living it to the fullest. But I spent far too much of my life amongst those focused on having more, and I would rather focus on contentment.”
The man exuded serenity as he spoke, drawing Violet in with an image of a life that seemed far better than the ones so many focused on. They wrung their hands about not having enough money, but their desire for “more” was the true culprit of their unhappiness, keeping them from appreciating the simple joy to be found in a simple life. One needn’t host parties, possess the finest things, or travel the world to find fulfillment, and plenty of those who spent their lives in a whirl of self-indulgence rarely found it.
A woman could be quite happy even when wearing home-sewn gowns and living without a carriage.
“That is admirable, Dr. Vaughn,” she said with a sigh. “But I know better than anyone just how much money there is to be made in Oakham. To split the work would be to split the income we have, and we could not survive on selling prescriptions alone—”
Violet snapped her mouth shut before the dreaded “unless” slipped out, for there was no point in admitting to the apothecary shop scheme she’d posed to her family. They would never countenance opening one, and Mama would rather quit Oakham altogether than be counted amongst the tradesmen.
For the briefest of moments, she considered whether or not they could reverse the division of labor and Dr. Vaughn could open the shop, but she brushed aside the idea just as quickly. It would be a waste of his skills and would ruin the successful balance she’d struck with her brother, to say nothing of the fact that it didn’t alter the fact that a physician could not sustain a family in Oakham on visits alone.
Dr. Vaughn’s brows lowered, his forehead furrowing as he considered that. “It is far from ideal, but surely, we can give it a chance. For now, at least. With time, we might settle on a better solution.”
Violet smiled at him, as she knew he wanted her to, and nodded. Let him try if he wished. Dr. Vaughn wanted assurances, and Violet couldn’t help but yearn to scoop them up and cling to the hope that everything would turn out well in the end. But truth was a stern mistress, and she had learned long ago not to ignore it. Dr. Vaughn was a wonderful man, but he needed to provide for himself just as she needed to provide for her family; their goals were contrary to one another, and there wasn’t a resolution that would keep them both in town.
He needed to remain for a little time, but Dr. Vaughn’s lease could be broken, and he could return to London, where he had patients aplenty and a family to assist him. If he hated Town so very much, the gentleman could find another situation. The country was full of towns that would welcome Dr. Vaughn into their fold. He didn’t need Oakham. Not like the Templetons did.
“If I may be so bold, I will say that having such a talented apothecary on hand is quite a boon,” said Dr. Vaughn, slanting a look at her that held a twinkle of mirth to it. “Much to my teachers’ consternation, I never learned to enjoy that aspect of medicine. I may excel in many ways, but I cannot seem to get my tablets as uniform as yours, and it is entirely too irritating. Having you manage it for me would be a great blessing.”
Violet couldn’t help but smile at that admission. “For my part, I love mixing medicines. It makes me feel like a witch, brewing potions and spells. With a bit of eye of newt and wool of bat.”
Jerking away from his gaze, she slapped a hand over her mouth as her cheeks pinked. Why she’d admitted such a thing was a mystery; even Felicity and Diana knew nothing of her propensity to cackle as she boiled ingredients over the fire or ground them down with mortar and pestle.
But Dr. Vaughn laughed. “I haven’t thought of it in that manner, but I suppose with many of the ingredients, it does seem a bit like witchcraft.”
“Do not tell the townsfolk,” she said with a grimace. “I fear they may just burn me as a witch if I were to admit it as such.”
“Ah, yes. Being the hoyden witch must be difficult in Oakham,” said Dr. Vaughn with a serious air.
“Are you teasing me?” she asked with a frown.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Violet stared at his profile for a long time before turning her gaze back to the river, her feet swinging once more. She didn’t want to think of rivalries or battles. For now, she simply wanted to enjoy this moment of peace and the beauty around her.
“You were right about Geoffrey Cavendish,” he said, breaking through her thoughts.
“Pardon?”
“ The Invisible Hand . It’s quite a gripping tale,” he said.
Violet’s gaze swung to him, and she sat there, thinking through his words, trying to grasp the meaning.
“You recommended that I read it, and I found it quite entertaining,” he clarified.
Straightening, Violet considered the man at her side. “You read it already?”
“I finished it this morning.”
“We spoke of it two days ago,” she said with a frown.
“You were adamant that it was a gripping read, and as I am new to town, I still have more time on my hands than is good for me, so I went to Bentmoor and found a copy of it. I couldn’t put it down.” The gentleman spoke so matter-of-factly, as though it was entirely reasonable that he acted so quickly and thoroughly.
“I didn’t think you enjoyed reading,” she said .
Dr. Vaughn shook his head. “I haven’t read much, but it is more about opportunity than desire. My father pushed me to move quickly through my schooling and establish myself as a doctor, which didn’t leave me much time for such things. Dr. Floyd Vaughn values success above all else. Pastimes have their place, but not when one is still in his prime.”
Violet’s brows rose at that. “A strong work ethic is admirable, but surely, there is time for pleasure as well.”
Dr. Vaughn gave her a half-smile. “Not if you wish to live up to the family reputation as being amongst the best doctors in London.”
Giving a vague hum in reply, she turned her attention back to the water. “Well, I’ve never heard of Floyd Vaughn.”
And that drew forth a sharp laugh as Dr. Vaughn shook his head. “Never say so to my father. It would decimate his pride.”
*
Arthur was quite certain this was the finest day he’d had in some time. Perhaps ever. Despite a few bumps along the way, here he sat in a beautiful location with an equally lovely lady at his side, all his attention fixed on her as they spoke of everything and nothing.
When he’d considered love and marriage, Arthur hadn’t truly known that one could find it and friendship wrapped in one perfect package. Through his profession, he’d witnessed many private moments between spouses and families, and though many espoused beliefs of romance, such displays were superficial physical connections.
Here, more than mere attraction bound him to Miss Violet Templeton. Her ideas and opinions were as fascinating to him as the draw he felt to her hand that rested so close to his. If his fingers inched nearer along the stone, they would touch, yet Arthur couldn’t bear to risk breaking the moment. Best not to press his suit too quickly.
But when a lull in the conversation drew her attention to him, Miss Templeton’s eyes fixed on his, and Arthur felt their power pulling him in. There was a softness in her expression, and he longed to brush aside a curl that hung across her cheek, bouncing slightly in the breeze.
“I am sorry about your hat,” she said with a frown, reaching up to poke the rim. Nodding toward it, Miss Templeton held out her hand. “May I see it? I’ve mended enough of my brother’s and father’s clothes to have learned a thing or two about resurrecting hats.”
Arthur felt the familiar flush of heat creep across his cheeks, though he batted the embarrassment away.
“I promise I am not going to steal it,” she added with a hint of laughter.
Dropping his gaze away from her, Arthur struggled as his throat decided to be uncooperative once more. It wasn’t as though Miss Templeton didn’t know what lay hidden beneath, as she’d seen his bald head several times already, but it was easier to ignore such failings when they were hidden from sight. Surely, putting it on display wouldn’t endear him to her. Yet there was no polite way to deny her.
Arthur lifted it from his head and handed it over. Miss Templeton took hold of it and turned the hat about, feeling the crumpled rim. Turning it this way and that, she considered it.
“With a bit of steaming, I believe it is salvageable. We haven’t a milliner in town, but if you take it to Bentmoor, I am certain you could have it straightened in a trice. Though I know of a few women here who take in laundry and might manage it.”
Then, turning it between her hands, she plopped it on his head once more. “In the meantime, it gives you a bit of a roguish air. As though you’ve gone a few rounds of fisticuffs with ruffians.”
“When in fact, I was nearly impaled by a lady with gardening shears,” he replied, though it was a miracle the jest came out at all.
Miss Templeton chuckled, her dark eyes meeting his with a smile shining in their depths. Her hand rested against the slab once more, and her fingers were so close. A little movement and he could take hold of her hand. To lean in her direction would bring her close enough to steal a kiss. Either was far too forward at this stage, but holding her gaze, Arthur allowed his eyes to tell her the many things he was imagining.
Surely, she could feel the closeness and connection they shared, and in that moment, Arthur knew that one way or another, he was going to find a solution to their problem. Having just found Miss Templeton, he wasn’t going to allow a little thing like their livelihoods to run him from town. He needed time to explore the possibility that lay heavy between them.
There must be a way.