Chapter 12
Gabriel placed a square of linen over the small incision on Elijah’s arm.
Blythe’s son peered up at him from his seat at the long mahogany dining table. “What will happen now?”
“The cowpox matter will enter your body, and you will feel unwell for several days. After that, you will be protected from smallpox for the rest of your life.”
“How does it work? Is it safer than using smallpox matter?”
“Studies have shown a greater survival rate when inoculating with cowpox rather than smallpox, especially in infants.”
“Do you think the disease will ever be eradicated?” Elijah’s brown eyes, obviously inherited from his sire, met Gabriel’s. Damn you, Zachary Simmonds!
“I hope so. Much is changing all the time with new theories and the development of new equipment to help us diagnose patients.”
“I think I would like to become a doctor.”
Gabriel’s insides withered. Elijah should have been his son.
He would have nurtured the boy’s interest and shared his knowledge.
Then, after university, they would have worked together.
“While a fulfilling occupation,” he croaked, and cleared his throat, “I am afraid it is not particularly revered.” He reached for the boy’s free hand and set it atop the linen. “Hold this in place.”
“Mama says it is an honour to be trusted with caring for others.”
Gabriel bandaged Elijah’s arm. “She is correct. It is a vocation for me. My father is a barber-surgeon; my mother a midwife and healer. I always wanted to follow in their footsteps.” Unfortunately, the long line of Sharpes in the medical profession would end with him.
“What was Mama like when she was younger? You knew each other before she married my father, did you not?”
Gabriel froze while returning his tools to the leather wallet on the tabletop.
“We were childhood friends.” More than friends, and how much Blythe meant to him became more difficult to ignore with every moment spent in her company.
More—he wanted more from the woman who had broken his heart, and that made him a fool of the highest proportion.
The boy continued, unaware of the incessant battle that raged in Gabriel’s head.
“She nursed my father when he was ill, much to the annoyance of my grandmother. Grandmama Simmonds did not think a woman of my mother’s station should stoop to caring for the sick—even her husband.
But Mama insisted. I did not know she possessed such skills. ”
While Gabriel rolled up his tool wallet, his heart softened further.
“She cared about helping the sick and injured from a young age.” He returned his attention to the boy.
“She once brought me a pigeon with a broken wing. We nursed it together until it could fly again. Then there was the hedgehog, a stray dog and several cats.”
“Is that why there are so many cats on the farm?”
“I believe they are descendants of the cats your mother took in.” Gabriel winked. “To catch rodents, of course.”
“How long will it take me to study to be a physician?”
The boy had so many questions. Just like his mother. Gabriel washed and dried his hands. “Do you not wish to follow in your father’s footsteps?”
“Unlike my papa, I am not fascinated by making more money for myself or others.” Elijah’s lips pursed when he rolled down his sleeves.
“Then you may be content with the life of a poor country physician. If you want to earn more, I suggest you remain in York where you can build a practice of wealthy patients.”
“I know Mama will support me. But I am uncertain whether she wishes to return to York. She seems much happier since we came to Midthorpe. I suspect she missed her life here.”
A soft cough drew their attention to the doorway where Blythe stood. “Has the inoculation been successful?”
Elijah puffed out his chest. “I did not cry, unlike Violet.”
Blythe patted her son’s shoulder. “Grandmother is soothing her hurts with biscuits.”
“I do not need biscuits to soothe anything.”
Blythe folded her arms. “Shall I tell Mama to put them away?”
Elijah shrugged. “I do not mind having one before I return to the fields.”
“Have a care while you work,” Gabriel said. “And if you develop any symptoms more serious than a slight fever, tell your mama immediately.”
Elijah nodded.
“Before you leave,” Gabriel rummaged through his bag, “read this.” He held out a dog-eared book. “It contains some of the latest thinking on medicine and health. Dr Buchan is at the forefront of modern medicine, with attention to matters of hygiene.”
“Thank you.” Elijah leafed through the pages on his way to the kitchen.
Blythe asked, “How much do I owe you?” She lifted a hand. “And do not say nothing. You are too kind for your own good, Gabriel.”
“A shilling each.”
Blythe scowled.
“Very well, five shillings for both.”
Blythe dug around in a small leather purse.
“Elijah says you feel becoming a physician is a noble profession.” The statement slipped out before he could stop it.
“I do, because it is, and I admire those willing to care for others. You know that.” Blythe did not meet his gaze when she handed over five silver coins. Dark smudges remained beneath her eyes.
“Have you slept better since the funeral? You did not need to stay with the body the night before.”
“I could not leave the boy alone before his final journey.” She tightened the strings of her purse. “Now, I must catch up with the jobs I missed while playing nurse.”
“You did not play nurse. You provided the best care.”
She clasped her hands in front of her. “It was clearly not good enough.”
He stepped towards her. “Do not blame yourself for James’s death. He was a hearty lad, but fighting smallpox and lung fever proved too much.”
“I am certain your mother would have nursed him back to health.” Her chin dropped to her chest.
“I doubt even the most accoladed physician in the country could have saved him.” He tucked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“It is a blow to lose a patient, but one must make ready for the next. It does no good to dwell on those who could not be saved. We must concentrate on those we can help.”
Blythe harumphed. “I cannot help but think that if I had continued my training, I would—” she sighed. “You are correct. One cannot change the past, and I must learn to move forward.”
“It is not too late, you know.”
Blythe frowned.
“You could still train to be a midwife and healer as you always wished.”
She toyed with the edge of her apron. “It is too late. Who would apprentice me?”
“My mother.”
She released a sardonic chuckle. “Sometimes I think you are mad.”
“Why so?”
“I jilted her son and abandoned my apprenticeship to marry a rich man. Why would your mother take me under her wing? Even if I had not jilted you, I demonstrated a weak character by abandoning her teaching.”
“My mother said you were destined to be a healer, that you had a natural talent. I am certain she would wish to—”
“Mrs Sharpe will not take me back, and I do not blame her.” She leaned a hand on the back of the chair vacated by Elijah.
“You do not know until you ask.”
Her feet shuffled on the patterned carpet. “She may be grateful to me for caring for James when she could not, but you ask too much, Gabriel. How can either of you trust me again?”
Her vulnerability almost melted away the barrier he had built around his heart.
Damn him to eternal suffering! It was too late; the feeble barricade had collapsed, and Blythe had not even attempted an assault.
“Am I wrong to try to see the good in someone? You have the chance to find purpose in life, Blythe. Elijah said you were unhappy in York.”
Her brow wrinkled. “He should not have discussed my private matters.”
“Tell me. I am your friend. In the past, we had no secrets.”
“That was the past. We are older and wiser, and some things are better left unsaid.”
Before he could think better of it, the question he longed for her to answer slipped out. “Why did you marry him, Blythe?”
Blythe fiddled with the strings of her purse and said, “He was rich and you were not.” Her head snapped up.
“And you need to stop this foolishness. You should show better judgement. I am not the sort of person with whom you should be friends. You know it. I know it. The entire village knows it.” She strode to the door. “Good day, Doctor Sharpe.”