Rivals and Roses (The Vaughns #1)

Chapter 27

“G ood heavens, Dr. Vaughn,” said Mrs. Templeton, setting aside her sewing and rising from the sofa. “You do look like you’ve seen a ghost. What is the matter?”

Arthur fought back a wince. He’d thought his expression innocuous, but with Mr. Bacon’s accusation resting heavily on his shoulders, it was impossible to rid himself of the cloud hanging over him. Exchanging greetings with the lady, he took the offered seat on the sofa beside her and set his bag on the ground at his feet.

“An odd conversation on the way here—two, in fact—that is all,” said Arthur, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Nothing too terrible, I hope,” said Mrs. Templeton, as she eyed him. “Would you care for some refreshments? Violet has an excellent selection of tisanes, as you can well imagine.”

The lady in question perched on her armchair, her attention fixed entirely on mending a ragged hem. Not once did she look at Arthur, which did nothing to help his equilibrium. Had Miss Templeton heard rumors about Miss Bacon? Just the thought had his pulse quickening, and Arthur rubbed his palms discreetly against his thighs.

“Thank you for the offer, but I haven’t much time,” he said, glancing between the pair, though his gaze lingered longer on Miss Templeton. “I was hoping to get my bag refilled, as my stock is growing low at the moment.”

“Yes, of course.” And with that, Miss Templeton rose from her seat, sweeping over to snatch up the valise and slip away before Arthur could say a word to her—and all without looking at him.

“You look done in.” Mrs. Templeton’s brows knitted together. “Please allow me to get you something to eat and drink. I know how you bachelors neglect yourselves, and I am certain it would do you a world of good.”

Arthur nodded, though he knew it wouldn’t.

*

Clutching the bag to her stomach, Violet scurried from the room as her cheeks blazed as hot as the Sahara Desert. A few vague statements. That was all she’d done. Just insinuations. Nothing more. If the ladies inferred more, then it was their doing and not hers. Yet no matter how much she repeated that in her mind (which had happened continually in the week since the concert), Violet couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on her shoulders. Whatever justifications she gave, it didn’t alter the fact that she’d thrown a good man to the wolves.

Scurrying through the corridor, she made her way to the herb garret and dropped the valise on the table. One hand on her hip and the other rubbing at her forehead, she paced the room, though there was little space to do so.

Dr. Vaughn would recover from this. The ladies would grow angry and vindictive; their family and friends would return to the Templetons, who had overseen their health successfully for years. Even if his reputation was bruised a touch, it was merely an inconvenience. That was all. As skilled as he was and without ties to the community, he could easily rebuild somewhere else. With a father and brother as well-respected as he, Dr. Vaughn couldn’t fail to thrive, regardless of what happened in Oakham.

Though none of those assurances eased the knots forming in her shoulders, they allowed Violet to breathe once more.

The door creaked open, and she whirled about to see Isaac slip into the room.

“Here you are. Can you tell me why Mother is treating Dr. Vaughn like family?” he asked with a frown.

“Because he was here when you were not!” snapped Violet. “He spent hours with her when she was ill, and you were nowhere to be seen.”

Isaac stiffened, his brows shooting upward as Violet’s eyes widened, her hand sliding from her forehead to pinch the bridge of her nose. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to rein in her temper, but her nerves were strung too tight.

“Mother didn’t require a physician,” he said with a frown. “Else I would’ve returned home immediately.”

“He didn’t do it as her physician, Isaac. He did it because I was trying to see to her, the household, and your practice all at the same time, whilst you were enjoying yourself in Portsmouth. You left me all alone to manage without any assistance when everything is falling to pieces around us.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Isaac let it out in a sigh. “It’s not as bad as all that—”

“Do not tell me how bad it is! I am the one who manages the accounts. I am the one who makes the medicines and keeps records of your visits. I know precisely how much money we are making and how many patients you aren’t seeing.”

Violet turned away and stared out the window, unable to say whether she was angrier with herself or her brother. He vexed her greatly at present, but Isaac wasn’t the one who had befriended Dr. Vaughn and then betrayed his many kindnesses. Held his hand, even while plotting to destroy him. Basked in his comfort whilst working to ruin him.

What sort of person was she? The more Violet asked that question, the less confident she was that the answer was good .

“I am certain all will turn out right in the end,” said Isaac.

“How?” she demanded, turning around to stare at her brother. “How precisely is everything going to ‘turn out right in the end’ when you are gallivanting about England without a care in the world? When they had no other option, the villagers tolerated my recommendations and assistance, but with Dr. Vaughn on hand, they needn’t do so any longer. Our patients are abandoning us in droves!”

Drawing in a sharp breath, she let it out in a long sigh, her strength ebbing as she stared at him. “I do not understand, Isaac. Under Papa’s guidance, you fared well enough, but with each passing year, you are growing lazier and lazier. We rely on you, and we need you to provide, but Dr. Vaughn has already over the majority of the village—”

Mama’s voice cut through her tirade, drawing Violet up short as the lady called to her daughter. Giving her brother a narrowed look, Violet swept from the room. Holding fast to the little control she had left, she stepped into the parlor and smiled at her mother.

“I was just working on Dr. Vaughn’s supplies,” she said.

“Yes, and I do apologize for tearing you away, but I couldn’t recall the name of the novel you just finished that you enjoyed so thoroughly. I just began reading it, but I cannot recall the title,” said Mama with a furrowed brow.

“ The Whispering Catacombs by Clara Blackwood,” said Violet before turning back to the door.

Dr. Vaughn shifted and moved to rise. “Might I be of assistance—”

“Nonsense,” said Mama, waving him back to his seat. “She’ll be done in a trice…”

Not waiting for another interruption, Violet turned away from the pair and escaped once more whilst cursing herself again and again. Why had she ever allowed Dr. Vaughn in this house? She ought to have given him the cut direct and sent him on his way. No, Violet Templeton was the fool that had allowed him a portion of her heart, and one did not treat a friend as she had. Not after everything he’d done.

Sagging against the corridor wall, she covered her face. What had she been thinking? That question was so broad and encompassed so many situations in her life at present that no single response existed.

But that wasn’t true.

Almost everything fell under the umbrella of family. Everyone else in the village had abandoned or dismissed her, and they were the only constant in her life. The Templetons were far from perfect, but they cared for her, and surely, protecting them was justification enough. Wasn’t it? Yet even as she considered that yet again, the souring of her stomach testified to her uncertainty.

Violet forced herself to straighten; she needed to see to Dr. Vaughn’s bag and send him on his way. Any thought beyond that was entirely unhelpful at present.

With quick steps, she returned to the herb garret, but when she opened the door, Isaac leapt away from the table, causing the bottles in Dr. Vaughn’s valise to rattle. The latch stood wide open, and Isaac held a stopper in one hand.

“What are you doing?” demanded Violet, hurrying to his side.

“What I must,” replied Isaac, stuffing the cork back into place. “If Dr. Vaughn is gone from Oakham, everything will go back to how it was, and the easiest way to do so is to make him look like a quack.”

“So you meddled with his medicines?” Violet’s eyes widened, and she instantly lifted the bottles, each of which had labels affixed to the side.

Unstopping the first, she sniffed, but even as familiar as she was with each of her tonics, it was difficult to tell the blend of herbs and oils from one another once they were distilled and processed so thoroughly. Was it balsam of horehound? Violet rather thought so, though she couldn’t be certain .

“I did what was required to protect my family,” said Isaac with a frown. “Surely, you can see the logic in it. Prescribing the wrong medicines will make him look incompetent—”

“Yes, Isaac,” she snapped. “I am well aware of what it will do to him, but didn’t you think about what it might do to his patients? Our neighbors and friends?”

“There’s nothing all that harmful in there,” said Isaac with a dismissive wave of his hand before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“As you struggle to tell the difference between comfrey and belladonna, you will forgive me if I do not place much stock in your opinion on the matter,” she snapped.

Isaac scowled. “I may not be as skilled as you, Violet, but I am not brainless. Nothing I did will do any serious damage to anything except Dr. Vaughn’s reputation.”

Staring at the bag, she began lifting the bottles out; she was going to have to dump the contents, clean the vials thoroughly, and refill them properly. “You know the body well, but you’ve never cared for the apothecary side of medicine. Even harmless things can be poisonous in the wrong combination, Isaac—”

The door opened, and Dr. Vaughn poked his head inside. “I know your mother said you could manage on your own, but I wanted to keep you company.”

Holding one of the bottles in her hand, Violet froze in place. Good heavens. What was she to do? She couldn’t very well empty out his entire bag without questions being raised—

Isaac snatched the vial from her hand and slipped it and its brothers back into the case, snapping it shut. “No need, she’s finished.”

Dr. Vaughn’s brow pulled low as he studied her, and Violet could only stare back. Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to break her very ribs if it didn’t quiet soon, and the very air around her thinned, leaving her lightheaded as Isaac herded Dr. Vaughn to the door.

Violet’s eyes fixed on the bag .

Just let it be. It wasn’t her doing. Isaac’s actions were his own. Yet those bottles could cause more than tension between Dr. Vaughn and the townsfolk. Remaining silent might place his patients in danger. The townsfolk may have turned their backs on the Templetons, but that didn’t excuse the pain those medicines might inflict.

But this was for her family.

Violet’s insides raged, pushing and pulling at her until she felt ready to split into two. Dr. Vaughn gave them a nod in farewell, his concerned gaze still fixed on her as Isaac nudged him through the doorway.

“Stop!” she shouted.

*

Miss Templeton’s voice sliced through the air, giving Arthur a start as he stared at the lady, whose eyes were clamped shut. Placing one hand on her hip and rubbing her forehead with the other, she seemed stuck in place, unable to speak, though there were plenty of words bubbling beneath the silent surface.

“Miss Templeton?”

But before Arthur could inquire further, she started speaking, the sentences streaming out of her with all the rapidity and care of a waterfall. At first, all he could surmise was that it had something to do with his bag, though it took some time before Miss Templeton stammered her way into a semblance of coherency.

“Isaac switched your vials about, and I cannot say for certain which is which medicine,” she said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have left it alone, and I apologize for not watching over it better—”

“That isn’t—” But Arthur’s objection was ignored as she continued to talk .

“I didn’t want it to come to this. I never wanted it to be like this. I cannot bear the thought of anyone getting hurt—especially someone as wonderful as you. All this time, you’ve been so kind to me, and I am ashamed of what I’ve done…”

Arthur straightened and stared at her, though Miss Templeton continued to ramble, saying nothing and everything all at once in a way that only she could comprehend.

“You deserve better, and I’ve been so terrible,” she said, shaking her head, and once more he was ignored when he tried to interrupt. “You are so kind, and you do not deserve this. I only wanted to protect my family. That is all. I didn’t want you to suffer, but I didn’t know what else to do…”

With a frown, Arthur said, “But it was Isaac—”

Miss Templeton shook her head, her expression crumpling. “I have done everything I can to get you to leave Oakham. I tried spreading rumors, trying to make people lose confidence in you, but it didn’t work. So I told some of the ladies in town that you fancy them, knowing that either it would paint you as a bounder or their attentions would make you so uncomfortable that you’d leave of your own volition.”

It felt as though the world beneath his feet shifted, throwing Arthur off his balance, and he couldn’t recover. Setting his bag down on the workbench, he leaned against the wood and took a deep breath. Or tried to. His whole body was tied in knots, his thoughts spinning about until they were hopelessly tangled. Frozen in place, he stared at the lady, her words now entirely lost to him as she continued to ramble.

Miss Templeton had been trying to get rid of him?

And here he’d thought his greatest obstacle to happiness was Mr. Gadd.

Drawing near, the lady finally met his eyes for the first time that day, and they pleaded with him. “I am so sorry. You have been so good to me and my family, and we’ve repaid that kindness with betrayal, but I cannot allow this to continue any longer. I am so very sorry. ”

There was no mistaking her meaning. No misinterpreting the truth standing before him. Everything Arthur had believed about the lady had been false. As he stared at her, his stomach churned, and what little strength he had seeped right into the floorboards. Brother and sister watched him, and Arthur felt as though the whole of Oakham were gaping, silently watching the fool that had settled amongst them. Gaze falling to the floor, he clenched his jaw, trying to stave off the pain as his heart crumpled.

Then without a word, he turned on his heel and strode away.

*

Drawing in a sharp breath, Violet winced as the door shut quietly behind Dr. Vaughn. He didn’t slam it or storm away. Not a single hard word escaped his lips. No, he simply slipped from her life.

A tremor took hold of her, leaching her strength from her legs, and she only just managed to drop onto a stool before gravity pulled her to the floor. Covering her face, she groaned at herself. Her heart throbbed, sending out spikes of pain that nestled into her head, piercing her with each pulse—but she deserved far worse.

Violet didn’t think there were punishments enough for what she’d done. All the excuses she’d clung to fled her grasp, leaving her empty and alone.