Chapter 10
“M iss Templeton?”
Having no clock on hand, Violet didn’t know how much time had passed while she stood in front of the inn, but her hackles raised at the sound of Mr. Finch’s voice.
“Won’t you please allow me to explain?” he asked.
Violet winced at his volume, and she cast a look about at the few listening ears nearby, which were eagerly straining to gather any tittle-tattle to be found.
“What need is there to explain anything, Mr. Finch? Your actions have made your feelings clear,” she whispered before turning on her heel to join the party once more. With so many about, he would allow things to lie. What more was there to discuss? It wouldn’t alter the past.
“Will you stand up with me, Miss Templeton?” he asked in a voice designed to carry to all the eavesdroppers.
The question pulled her to a stop. Though her pettiness knew no bounds within the confines of her thoughts, Violet couldn’t bring herself to be so blatantly rude to anyone. Snubbing another—even one who had hurt her—never brought any joy. Even if the bounder was only using the gesture to trap her into a conversation.
And foolish woman that she was, Violet couldn’t help but hope this all stemmed from some easily resolved misunderstanding. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but at present, it was doing its best to pester her.
Scowling to herself, she took his offered hand and allowed him to lead her back into the coaching inn. The dancers were still milling about, and when Mr. Finch drew them to a stop on the edge of the dance floor, she turned her gaze from him, her arms crossed tight across her chest. Yes, Violet knew she looked petulant, but it was an honest reaction that she refused to moderate.
“I know you’re angry with me because of Dr. Vaughn,” said Mr. Finch in a low voice. He tucked his hands behind him, his posture relaxed, as though they were chatting about the weather or the fine evening they’d had.
“Is it true? Did you ask Dr. Vaughn to settle here?” she asked.
“Yes. Though I didn’t ask him as much as I told him about the opportunity.”
Violet’s muscles tightened. “So, you are simply going to confess that as though nothing is amiss?”
“Would you rather I lie?” he asked with raised brows.
“I would rather you not meddle with my family’s livelihood.”
The musicians trilled out the opening notes, and the dancers shifted into their lines. And to prove just how terrible Violet’s luck was, the chosen dance was as sedate as the ones their parents and grandparents had favored in their youth, allowing far too much time to talk.
Mr. Finch’s shoulders tightened, and he gave her a slow nod as his brows furrowed slightly. “I didn’t do so lightly, Miss Templeton. Out of respect for you, I held off. But with Felicity nearing her confinement, I could not allow things to remain as they were. How many illnesses sweep through the village every year, carrying off loved ones with ease?”
“That is not my brother’s fault. Every physician loses patients. Many, in fact—”
“True, but can you say that Mr. Evans would’ve fared better if your brother had been on hand instead of Dr. Vaughn?”
“He may not be the finest of surgeons, Mr. Finch, but he is not incompetent. Besides, I had matters well in hand, with or without Dr. Vaughn’s assistance—just as I have helped to manage the well-being of Oakham,” said Violet with a lift of her chin.
Mr. Finch sighed. “Felicity is soon to enter her confinement, Miss Templeton. Do you truly think I ought to entrust her and our child’s safety to your brother?”
“You speak as though Isaac is incapable or incompetent, sir. I assure you he can manage such things. He was taught by our father, who was highly skilled and ensured that his son learned all he needed.”
“I do not doubt it,” he replied. “And your brother is decent—when you can find him. He is forever disappearing or traveling from town. How are we to manage when he is unavailable?”
“As we always have,” replied Violet. “You speak as though the village is entirely helpless if my brother isn’t on hand, but we have medicines aplenty to help with any ailments, and if more assistance is required, Bentmoor is not far.”
“It takes four hours from when you send for them to arrive—assuming that they are available.” Mr. Finch shook his head. “You know all too well how much a difference four hours can make. Mr. Evans wouldn’t have survived that.”
Mr. Finch took her by the hand, and the pair wove around the other couples, their steps moving smoothly in time with the music, though Violet didn’t hear a single note as the gentleman continued.
“I cannot say for certain whether your brother is incompetent or lazy, but the manner in which he gouges his patients makes it clear I cannot trust him— ”
“Isaac would never!” Violet forced herself to breathe and to lower her tone, though her sharp words drew some attention.
“I am no physician, Miss Templeton, but Dr. Vaughn has expressed a concern about the number of medicines the townsfolk have been taking—the ones your brother gave them.”
Violet shook her head. “They are not being given too many medicines. To claim such a thing is to impugn my family’s honor—”
“I know you are the one who prescribes them—not him,” said Mr. Finch in little more than a whisper as they passed by one another.
Her brows shot up, her gaze darting about, though others were once more occupied with their own conversations. When she stood before him again, Violet studied him with wide eyes; swallowing past the lump in her throat, she wondered how he’d guessed the truth. The pair stood there in silence, watching each other as far too many ears were about, but then the couples on either side were set to their task, drawing their attention away from Violet and Mr. Finch.
“What do you mean? Everyone knows I assist my brother from time to time, but he is the physician.”
“It is an open secret, Miss Templeton,” replied Mr. Finch with a challenging raise of his brows. “Did you believe people wouldn’t notice that his supply of medicine never dwindles despite his long absences? That in emergencies you are always on hand to see to their injuries and illnesses? You’ve made a good show of working in the shadows, but it is impossible to keep your work hidden forever.”
Mr. Templeton. How long had the people called her that? As Violet had always been taller and broader than the other girls, she was well used to comments and stares, but that wretched nickname had come into existence long before she’d taken up the unofficial mantle of resident apothecary. Yet they’d begun using it more frequently since Papa’s passing four years previous. Did it refer to more than her masculine build ?
But what other recourse did she have? Ought she to ignore her skills and knowledge and allow the people of Oakham to suffer? To permit her family’s finances to dwindle as her brother squandered his time?
With another surge of frustration, she met Mr. Finch’s eyes with a scowl. “If everyone knows this, then there isn’t any reason for Dr. Vaughn to be here. Felicity asked me to attend her confinement, so you needn’t fear for her sake. As for the town, Isaac may struggle in other areas, but he is a keen diagnoser, and from that, I prescribe and create the medicines required to treat them. This system has worked for years, and Oakham hasn’t suffered because of our unorthodox approach. Are we now to be cast aside in favor of Dr. Vaughn?”
“I do not doubt your skills, Miss Templeton,” replied Mr. Finch. “But I cannot share your confidence in the ‘system,’ as you call it. Do you trust your brother to give an honest account of the symptoms for you to address?”
Violet longed to shake her head. Her family’s honor dictated that she do just that. But the very fact that his question gave her pause was answer enough. Did she trust Isaac to tell the truth? The more medicines they prescribed their patients, the more money made, and the fewer appointments he had to take.
Surely, it couldn’t be.
Clearing her throat, Violet continued, “I will investigate the accusations against my brother—and I assure you I am appalled by the thought that he would do such a thing—but I give you my word that his actions put no one in danger. Nothing I’ve prescribed would do harm as long it is taken as directed.”
Mr. Finch shook his head. “I cannot put any faith in your brother, and I refuse to gamble with my family’s well-being—”
“Your family isn’t in any danger. Do you think me so selfish that I would risk the lives of my friends and neighbors?” Violet fought to keep her voice even, though her volume rose a touch. “I promise they are being treated well. In fact, far better than most villages, who have only midwives and home remedies to see to their ailments.”
But Mr. Finch didn’t seem to listen. Or perhaps he simply ignored it. “I am truly sorry you will be impacted by it—”
“Impacted? We will be ruined. What about my mother? My sister-in-law?” asked Violet with a frown. “I will manage, but them? How could you harm their futures by bringing Dr. Vaughn here—”
“I didn’t bring him here. I knew Dr. Vaughn wished to leave London, and I told him about Oakham. Nothing more.” Taking her by the hand, Mr. Finch led her through the steps as silence fell between them. Other conversations rumbled around them as they promenaded down and back before weaving around the other couples.
“Do not pretend as though you are on the side of right, else why not warn us before dragging Dr. Vaughn here?” she asked, her chin lifting as she seized onto the first argument that popped into her thoughts.
“How, pray tell, do you suggest I ought to have broached that subject?” he asked with a grim frown. “Is there a polite manner in which to say such a thing?”
Drawing in a sharp breath, Violet sighed. Though she didn’t wish to acknowledge that truth, she had to; there was no easy way to tell another that they were soon to lose everything.
There was a question she wanted to ask. Or hated to ask, rather. It pricked at her, demanding attention, yet she couldn’t bring herself to voice it.
“Did Felicity know?”
“She knows Dr. Vaughn is an acquaintance of mine, and she has met him, but nothing beyond that.”
Violet’s muscles relaxed once more. That was something, she supposed. It did no good for her family, but she was pleased to know that her betrayal was not complete. Just partial.
“Pardon me, Mr. Finch, but I fear I am feeling a little faint.” As these words were in the impossible realm of neither truth nor lie, Violet felt no guilt at having uttered them, for they allowed her to leave the dance. Taking her by the elbow, the gentleman led her to the side of the room, near one of the great windows, which was open to allow in the cool night air.
After giving a bow, Mr. Finch watched her a moment; his brows were knitted together, and there was a tightness to his jaw. “I do not wish to cause you pain, Miss Templeton. I admire you greatly, and I am grateful you’ve been such a good friend to my wife. I cannot bear the thought of having caused you concern, and for that, I am sorry.”
Pausing, he straightened, his voice remaining quiet, though a thread of iron wove through his tone. “However, I will not apologize for seeing that my family is protected. I hope you do not think poorly of me, though I will not fault you if you do.”
Violet’s chest ached as she studied the gentleman. She ought to be angry. In many ways, she was furious with him. Yet how could she fault him? Since Papa’s passing, her brother’s professional behavior had been lax at best, and it was all Isaac’s doing. Not Mr. Finch’s.
“However much I disagree with your assessment of the situation, I cannot blame you for seeing to your family’s well-being, sir,” she admitted. “Just as I hope you will not blame me for doing the same.”
Mr. Finch considered her a moment before bowing to her, giving the movement a bit more flourish than was entirely necessary. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Templeton.”
“You are welcome, Mr. Finch.”