Chapter 39
A small patch of blue hung above Arthur’s head, and he focused on it rather than the charcoal smudge of clouds that loomed on the horizon. The weather would hold out. It had to. A jaunty tune entered his thoughts, and his footsteps fell in time with the rhythm. It was only with the greatest show of self-restraint that he didn’t simply start dancing on the spot.
But he couldn’t stop grinning like a fool.
With the bout of influenza now receding and the Finches’ baby delivered, Arthur’s day was free. Thankfully. Though he’d never thought himself impetuous, he’d set a time for the picnic without giving a thought to his responsibilities. For once, fate was kind and aligned with his plans.
The picnic basket bounced against his leg as he strolled down the lane. Thank goodness his maid had packed it thick with straw for it was so laden down with food that Arthur couldn’t keep it from swinging haphazardly, and he was liable to break the bottles of lemonade. There was enough to feed a family for a week, but as he didn’t know what Miss Templeton preferred, he didn’t feel safe leaving anything out, and the entirety of his pantry was stuffed inside .
Arthur frowned at the posy of wildflowers in his right hand. While there was heather aplenty to be found, he’d not had time to trek out to the areas where they bloomed, and the readily available offerings were rather lacking. But there wasn’t time enough to send to Bentmoor for flowers, and Arthur had learned his lesson—no more pilfering from others’ gardens. With leggy stems and scraggly blossoms, this posy was pitiful compared to his previous bouquets, and he couldn’t help but mourn the loss. Though the wildflowers would have to do.
Pausing, he tried to shift the knapsack on his back without using his hands (which were both occupied), but it continued to dig into his right shoulder. With a shrug to himself, he continued on his journey. It wasn’t far to the Templetons’ cottage, and he wasn’t going to abandon the blanket contained within. For all that the weather was somewhat cooperative, there was a bite to the air, and Arthur wouldn’t risk a chill cutting their outing short.
In quick succession, he went through his list of items again, ensuring that he had everything, and as the Templetons’ home came into view, Arthur steeled himself with a deep breath. The familiar feeling that always left his tongue uncooperative surged to the surface. This wasn’t some mere flirtation or casual meeting. He was paying a call on his sweetheart.
Or at least Arthur thought of her thusly. They were going on an outing together alone, so surely, that earned her that all-important distinction.
That thought distracted him for only a heartbeat before reality snapped back into place. With Arthur’s heart well and truly besotted, far more was at stake now, yet nothing was set in stone. Despite his success of late, he was just as likely to ruin it all, and that knowledge settled deep into his wayward tongue.
Forcing in a breath, he stood on the doorstep and closed his eyes. She’d accepted his invitation and the kiss on her hand: she wasn’t apathetic. And this was Miss Templeton. His friend. Not some mysterious creature that he’d watched from afar. Arthur knew her. Knew how easy conversation could be between them .
Yes, he could do this.
Rapping his knuckles against the door, he waited for Peggy to answer and usher him in. His breath caught as he crossed the parlor’s threshold, his eyes landing on Miss Templeton as she rose to greet him. And then the air fled him in a sharp exhale when Miss Diana Gadd stood as well.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Vaughn,” said Miss Templeton with a broad smile that set his mind at ease once more, though there was a strain in her eyes that had his shoulders tightening. “I was speaking with Miss Gadd and mentioned our picnic, and I thought it would be wonderful to invite her along. I hope you do not mind.”
Arthur’s mind ground to a halt as he stared at the two ladies, both of whom were dressed to venture out into nature and gazing at him expectantly.
That was when he realized a very important piece he’d forgotten. A chaperone. Despite a lifetime in London, the relaxed country manners had lulled him into complacency. Though he could equally blame that on his lack of courting experience; despite knowing that a lady required a chaperone when venturing out with a gentleman, Arthur had never dealt with such matters before.
Yet he’d never heard of an unmarried lady performing the task unless she was of mature years.
And he’d spied Mr. Gadd driving about with Miss Giles alone in his gig. Perhaps a picnic required a chaperone? If that were so, Arthur vowed to learn to drive starting tomorrow morning.
With those questions bouncing about his head, Arthur missed the discussion passing between the ladies and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
“Shall we go?” he asked, glancing between the pair.
Miss Templeton placed a hand to her temple. “I fear I am feeling a little poorly.”
Arthur abandoned the basket on the ground and shoved the bouquet into her hand before taking her other wrist in his hand, measuring her pulse as he felt Miss Templeton’s forehead. Though quickened, her heartbeat was steady enough, and there was no sign of fever.
“Have you been coughing? Or any chills?” he asked, rattling off the more common warning signs of the influenza that had been plaguing the village.
“No,” said Miss Templeton, gently nudging his hands away with an apologetic grimace. “I fear after the exhausting day we had yesterday, I’ve developed a bit of a megrim. I shouldn’t go out, lest it worsen.”
“Yes, of course,” said Arthur with a nod. “Best to sequester yourself in your bedchamber. Pull the curtains tight and sit with a hot rag on your forehead. If needed, take a tisane with willow bark and pennyroyal…”
A hint of a smile tugged at Miss Templeton’s lips as he spoke, and Arthur paused.
“I suppose I needn’t tell you how to make a tisane for megrims,” he replied with a wry grin. “But you must take care of yourself. If you are feeling better in the next day or two, we can try again.”
Miss Templeton shook her head, glancing between the pair. “Nonsense, there is no reason you two ought to cancel. I am certain you will have a grand time together.”
Arthur’s brows twisted together, and he glanced at Miss Gadd, who looked equally perplexed.
“That is kind of you, but I would prefer to wait for you,” he said.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, herding them to the door and handing Miss Gadd her bouquet. Arthur’s eyes followed the flowers, his brows tightening even more.
“Might I have a word, Miss Templeton?” he asked.
The lady glanced between him and Miss Gadd with a smile too strained to be genuine. “I don’t think you two should waste your time here. The weather might change at any moment. ”
But Arthur stepped aside and drew her along. In a low voice, he whispered, “What is happening? I thought we were to picnic together. Alone.”
Miss Templeton nodded and waved a vague hand about as though searching for her words. “Yes, but I cannot come, and it would be a shame to waste the day. I am certain you would enjoy it more if Miss Gadd accompanied you.”
“I am certain I would not.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Miss Templeton sighed. “I know you are uncomfortable around strangers, but if you give her a chance, I promise you will adore her company. Yes, she is a little silly at times, but it is only because she is still young and needs a little more time to mature. She is happy, optimistic, and very good with people. I think she could be a boon to you.”
Arthur stared at her, and the lady swallowed deeply before adding, “She would make a good wife.”
All the lightness of his spirit came crashing down, collapsing atop him as though the very roof above him had crumbled. He stared at Miss Templeton, though she did her utmost to avoid his eyes as she continued to rattle off Miss Gadd’s good qualities.
Arthur couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think what to say, even if he could. His tongue was no longer the problem; his heart crumpled, taking with it all sense. Not that Miss Templeton allowed him to interject as she shepherded the pair through the front door with determination. Standing on the doorstep (after the picnic basket mysteriously appeared in his hand), Arthur stared at Miss Gadd, who held Miss Templeton’s bouquet.
Miss Templeton didn’t want him. Arthur’s lungs froze in place, refusing to draw in breath as the truth of that statement settled hard on his shoulders, making them bow beneath the weight. His mind replayed their conversation again and again, speeding through it all as time stretched around him, and he couldn’t see how there was any mistaking his intention.
He’d kissed her hand. Had asked her to join him on an outing. Had spoken of marriage. Had complimented her so brashly—that alone ought to have been enough to make his feelings clear.
And after all that, Miss Templeton threw her friend in his path.
Miss Gadd cleared her throat. “I suppose we ought to be on our way. Else we’ll waste the afternoon away.”
Arthur’s gaze focused on the lady before him, but he couldn’t think of what to say. He hadn’t any words.
***
Sliding the hive knife between the slabs of honeycomb, Violet worked it free from the skep. The bees buzzed lazily around her, and the scent of smoke hung heavily in the air as she pulled the last of the comb free and set to cleaning the interior walls. Setting the last of the comb into the basket, she rose to her feet and returned the now empty skep to its alcove in the wall.
And she did not think about Dr. Vaughn and Miss Gadd.
With a rake in hand, she scattered the burn pile that had been used to subdue the bees before pouring water atop. Grabbing the baskets in hand, she pushed back the veil that covered her straw hat and carried her load into the house.
All while not thinking about the pair of them spending the day together.
Bringing the basket into the workroom, Violet placed the honeycomb in an empty pot. Several others held their golden bounty, ready to be strained and processed into honey and beeswax, though that was work for another day. Setting her hat aside, she ticked that chore from her mental list and considered the rest.
No doubt Dr. Vaughn was fumbling and awkward at first, but Diana was such a talkative soul and lacked Miss Bacon’s assertiveness that set the fellow’s nerves on edge, so he would be at ease in no time. Violet’s first conversation with him hadn’t been all ease and amusement, after all. Diana was a good sort, and she’d be patient with his reticent manners.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Violet moved to the workbench and began trimming the stems of the herbs she’d harvested that morning. August was a busy time, and she’d ensured all her drying hooks were empty and ready to be used, though it was likely unnecessary, as this year’s crop was far smaller than usual.
A yawn tugged at her mouth, forcing it wide open despite her protests, and she rubbed at her forehead. The megrim had been an excuse yesterday, and it seemed as though fate was going to punish her for that little fib by cursing her with one today. But that was to be expected when her body refused to sleep.
Had they gone to the bridge? Dr. Vaughn had said that was his plan, but he’d called it “our” bridge, and Violet couldn’t help but think of it in those terms. Which was ridiculous, as friends did not share such things. That sort of thing was reserved for sweethearts.
Regardless, she hoped it had been enjoyable. Dr. Vaughn deserved to have his dream fulfilled, and though she didn’t know if Diana were a perfect match for him, the lady would suit. A physician needed a wife who was skilled with social politics (especially when he struggled with them), and Diana had a sizable dowry to help them get established.
A knock sounded at the workroom door, and Violet called out.
Peggy poked her head through and said, “Miss Gadd to see you, miss.”
Violet’s ribs constricted, but she smiled and nodded. “Please, come in.”
Then, to carry to her friend, she called, “I do hope you don’t mind if I get some work done. I’ve been harvesting all day, and I have so many things that need tending.”
Sweeping in like the whirlwind she was, Diana hardly paused long enough to give her friend a buss on the cheek in greeting before she stood at Violet’s worktable, a scowl pulling at her features. “Do whatever you need to do—as long as you tell me why you none-too-subtly forced me on an excursion with Dr. Vaughn yesterday.”