Chapter 9
A rthur’s pulse quickened with each step, and he mentally rehearsed what he might say. But he was no poet. Mr. Gadd seemed the sort to know precisely what to say to a lady to turn her head while Arthur was simply pleased if he managed anything intelligible. Actions spoke louder than words, as they were wont to say, and surely, there was some way to demonstrate his interest.
With another dance beginning in a moment, the answer was clear enough: asking for a second set with her was not something a casual acquaintance did. If Miss Templeton ignored the first dance as nothing more than a kindness, she couldn’t possibly misunderstand the meaning behind a second.
And if she accepted? Surely, that meant something.
Didn’t it?
Yet how to ask? Having never done so before, this was doubly more difficult than his first attempt. Before Arthur could settle on anything useful, he was standing behind her. One of her friends drew Miss Templeton’s attention, and she turned to greet him; with her eyes on him, Arthur’s heart skittered and the few fleeting thoughts in his head flew out of his grasp.
“Good evening, Miss Templeton,” he managed .
“Dr. Vaughn,” she replied, though her companions watched him with surprised expressions that did little to calm his flustered mind.
Arthur forced himself to smile, and the lady responded in kind, easing the tightness in his chest the slightest bit and allowing one thought to worm its way back into his consciousness.
“Miss Templeton… Might I be so bold…” Arthur forced his throat to swallow, though there was no alleviating the dryness in his mouth. “Dance?”
Her dark brows drew together, her head shifting to the side. “Are you asking me to stand up with you again?”
Thank heavens. That was a simple question to answer. Arthur nodded and tried to ignore her friends, whose shock and curiosity could be read across their faces in a disconcerting mix.
“Certainly, Dr. Vaughn,” she said, taking his hand without hesitation. “That is very kind of you to ask.”
Kindness, nothing. The question was born of pure selfishness in wishing to monopolize her time, and it was she who demonstrated far more kindness by taking the time to decipher his muddled invitation. And to accept.
But as much as Arthur wanted to say such things, it was impossible with every eye in the room pointed at them; he felt their attention skittering across his skin and boring into his back. He knew it was only in his head, for he wasn’t so arrogant as to believe that he warranted such scrutiny, but he spied more than a few pairs pointed in their direction. The new doctor had asked Miss Templeton to dance twice!
They drew up to where the set would begin shortly, and Arthur stood there like the great lummox he was, feeling as fretful as when he’d first approached her. But then, this one meant so much more.
“Breathe, Dr. Vaughn,” she said with a faint smile. “I would think a doctor of your caliber would understand the importance of employing one’s lungs. ”
Arthur gave a halting chuckle, a grin on his lips. “True, but it is not always easy to do so.”
Lowering her voice, Miss Templeton held his gaze as warmth flowed from her. “Do not fret, sir. Despite what some believe, it is no great weakness to be anxious around strangers, and I’ve known many gentlemen who struggle with it. Gracious, I’ve known most of these people my entire life and still feel uneasy when I am forced to venture into society without a companion on hand.”
“I do not know if I can believe such a claim, Miss Templeton,” replied Arthur. “You seem quite at ease and comfortable with yourself.”
Letting out a sharp huff of air, the lady shook her head. “I have no natural talent for socializing, and I’ve spent years learning to overcome many of my fears.” With furrowed brows, she added, “And it has helped greatly that I am far more comfortable in my skin than I was in my youth. So much of my nerves came from uncertainties about myself.”
Miss Templeton spoke quietly and calmly, that aura of confidence leaching into Arthur and allowing him to breathe deeply once more.
“You asked me all about my medical education, and I have not asked about yours,” he said, the words slipping free without thought. “Beyond your salve, your dresser abilities made it clear you are far more familiar with medicine than one finds outside of the profession—even with a father inside it.”
“True, but I was always enamored with the subject, reading as much as I could about the subject. And Papa allowed me to observe his work from time to time.”
More than “time to time,” if Arthur were to guess. Why she chose to minimize her education on the matter was an oddity, but one did not show such proficiency without much training. Before their formal education, Arthur and his brothers had spent time learning at their father’s knee, yet Miss Templeton’s skill outmatched that which they’d gleaned. Her ability was more akin to their mother’s, who had served as Father’s assistant their entire married life.
The musicians struck up their starting notes, and Arthur realized he’d entirely missed the lead couple announcing the coming dance. Thankfully, the tune was a familiar one, and he knew the steps that accompanied it. With ease, they moved through the figures, and though Arthur couldn’t say he enjoyed dancing, he now understood the appeal as he brushed by Miss Templeton, his hands lingering in hers.
“Well, I am happy to hear that,” said Arthur. “Though small, a village the size of Oakham requires a physician, and I am glad to know it hasn’t been wholly without medical assistance since his passing. Especially as you show such an aptitude for it.”
*
Talking and dancing were difficult to manage. Though Violet knew the steps well enough that her feet moved of their own accord, maneuvering without colliding with others took far too much attention for her to easily do both. And at Dr. Vaughn’s pronouncement, she nearly collided with Mrs. Birks.
“Pardon?” she asked, but that earned her a puzzled expression in response.
“You are quite talented—”
But Violet shook her head as they came to rest for a moment, standing opposite one another. “What do you mean about Oakham requiring a physician?”
“Only that the village has been without one since your father passed,” replied Dr. Vaughn. “Though Bentmoor’s physicians are close enough to manage many of the ailments, Oakham has enough demand to warrant its own. It is the reason Mr. Finch’s request was so appealing.”
“Mr. Lewis Finch?” asked Violet, her spine stiffening.
Dr. Vaughn’s expression grew even more puzzled. “I met the gentleman in London. I wouldn’t say I know him well, but we were acquaintances, and he wrote to me about Oakham requiring a physician.”
“He did, did he?” Violet fought to keep her words from snapping at the poor fellow who didn’t deserve her ire. Of its own accord, her gaze swept across the room until it rested on the lanky gentleman in question. Being tall himself, Mr. Finch was easy enough to spy, and though his attention was not on her, he must’ve felt the heat burning into his skin, for his dark eyes turned to meet Violet’s.
The moment was fleeting—hardly more than a heartbeat, but Mr. Finch must’ve seen something in her expression, for his own shifted in response. Not fear or surprise, but rather resignation. Lewis Finch knew she knew and didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.
Heat burned through her, making the sweltering room feel like a chilly spring day, and pain struck her chest, burrowing deep. It wasn’t as though Mr. Finch was a good friend. With Felicity having been gone from Oakham for so long, Violet couldn’t even claim a close relationship, but since their moving into the neighborhood last winter, she’d spent a fair amount of time in the Finches’ company. She’d thought they were friends of a sort.
Foolish creature. Violet wondered how long it took for lessons to truly take hold. She hadn’t thought herself pigheaded or dim-witted, yet her aching heart testified to the truth. She had trusted them and had forgotten a cardinal rule—the only loyalty one could expect was from oneself. People were quick to shrug off the mantle of friendship, casting it aside with little thought.
“Have I upset you?” asked Dr. Vaughn.
Violet forced her expression to soften. Whatever his role in her current troubles, she refused to make him bear the brunt of her frustrations.
“Not you, Dr. Vaughn,” she replied, forcing a smile as her throat tightened to a painful degree. “You mentioned you do not read much, but are there any authors you enjoy? ”
The gentleman watched her with furrowed brows, and Violet fought to keep her expression impassive.
“Since beginning my training, I’ve hardly had time for such luxuries,” he finally replied as they took each other by the hand and traveled along the line, releasing one another to pass behind another pair and return to facing each other on the line.
Violet continued to pepper him with questions until the gentleman was thoroughly distracted from their previous conversation. Thankfully, Dr. Vaughn soon relaxed into a discussion concerning the best herbs for sore throats, and though Violet still fumed, she quickly found herself preoccupied with Dr. Vaughn and not his devious friend or her witless self.
But when the set came to a close, she held only just enough composure to give him a quick farewell before turning away. The sensible part of her mind warned she was being inexcusably rude, but having heard Dr. Vaughn’s admission, Violet couldn’t bear to linger a moment longer than necessary. Turning on her heel, she crossed the room and swept through the front doors, into the cool night air.
Arms drawn tight around herself, Violet stared up at the night sky. Not a single cloud marred the perfect wall of stars above her, stretching out in every direction. Any other time, she would marvel at the beauty, for such a sight never failed to entrance her. But with thoughts of her family, their future in Oakham, and the Finches’ betrayal, she could think of nothing else but the future stretching before her, vast and unknown.
Even her closest companions did not trust her family. Had everyone been laughing at them in private, whilst feigning friendship to their faces? Surely, Felicity hadn’t known.
Had she?
Violet’s heart twisted. This was her home. Her village. The people who had known her father and his father. Who had watched her grow from childhood. Did they all hold the Templetons in such low esteem?