Chapter Fifteen
Days passed quickly at Cadfael House. Rose had once thought that being a wife trapped in some location distant from her family would make the days drag slowly. The prospect of being married to Captain Bryce, sequestered from her studies, and forced to leave the beautiful Surrey countryside for stuffy London had seemed like a prison sentence. However, she found being married to Edmund and living at Cadfael House was a glorious sort of freedom.
Perhaps it is because I am so happy—or the fact that I go to see Mama every few days and she visits just as much, and Lily and Ivy take such delight in staying the night. Or perhaps it is being kept busy answering the scads of letters married women receive from people wanting to pay a call or asking you to come and stay with them.
Or perhaps it is working constantly on the gardens and plans for the conservatory—and Mama never scolding me to come inside and find something “ladylike” to do. She would certainly never have allowed me to become so absorbed in a new topic—orthopedics.
But Edmund... Edmund has given me nothing but encouragement, and he has a surprising amount of connections abroad who are willing to help him procure anything I could wish for in terms of books and papers.
To Rose, that proved that Edmund must not have been the bitter, unsociable man that he claimed to be. Perhaps quiet and reclusive, but anyone who took the time to get to know him could see how kind and witty he was, how charming and attentive he could be.
His late wife must not have tried very hard, Rose thought bitterly. But I shall try—and I will put all of my findings at his feet to show him that I will use my gifts, such as they are, in his service, the same way he always endeavors to help me.
“Rose?”
Rose looked up from the large desk that was in her “laboratory.” She delighted in having the large, sunny room in the east wing of the house, filled with boxes of soil, wooden growing frames, trellises, seeds, and endless amounts of ink and paper.
Edmund was standing in the doorway with a smile. He held out his hand, and she rushed to seize it, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Time to go out and inspect Allen’s work before it gets too hot?” Rose asked.
“This August heat is particularly oppressive. I must go out to Kennett’s farm on the north end of our acreage to inspect some damaged fences that the farm manager says we are not liable for but Kennett claims we are. The farm manager seems to have been ruling more and more...fiercely in my long absences, and I must make myself known. Will you come with me?”
“Gladly!” Rose smiled. “Will we take the gig or Sable and Bellerophon?” She secretly hoped he would say Sable, the sweet black gelding he had been teaching her to ride.
“In this weather and at that distance, we will take the gig—but if the weather cools, we shall take Sable and Bellerophon on a long loop of the ground this evening before dark,” Edmund promised, kissing her swiftly before pulling back. “Can you be ready in half an hour?”
“Yes, that will give me just enough time to conclude a letter,” Rose replied, hands unwilling to release their hold on his arms. Sometimes, when Edmund kissed her, she knew he wanted to prolong the event. Sometimes, when lying next to him at night, she knew there was more that a husband and wife could do—and she was more than willing.
Edmund kept holding back, old fears haunting him so deeply that she feared her love could never lift him over that hurdle.
Maybe he does not know I love him? But how could he not?
I should tell him—but if he does not truly return my love, and this is kindness and affection, and nothing deeper...
Her hands slid away, her smile softer, slightly melancholy. “I must finish that letter. I’ll be ready on time.”
Edmund tilted his head to give her a curious look. “Very well, my darling.”
ONCE EDMUND LEFT, ROSEcomposed herself and returned to her desk. Spread across it was the work of Nicolas Andry de Bois-Regard, Orthopedie, published over a century ago. This copy was in French, but it explained the French doctor’s work in straightening the deformed limbs of children through various braces and straps. His work had helped hundreds of children, but many believed it to have limited scope, applicable only to those younger patients whose bodies were still growing and could be “molded.”
Jean-André Venel, a Swiss physician, later expanded on his work to create more advanced devices designed to be used on soldiers as well as children. Rose’s research followed the trail of these men, somewhat obscure in the medical field and perhaps not well known among the Surrey practitioners. Through her studies, she learned that it took time, even years, and constant corrections and adjustments to the metal and leather braces and supports, but eventually, many deformities could be corrected.
Rose’s breath caught in her chest as she dared to pen a secret message, one she had not told Edmund she intended to write.
To Dr. Robert Owens,
Sir,
I have heard your name praised in the medical treatises circulating throughout London. You have expanded on the work of Bois-Regard, Venel, Mathijensen, and others in the creation of casts, braces, splints, collars, and more. It is said that you have taken badly broken bones and set them straight with the help of your assistant, Mr. Evan Thomas.
My husband, Sir Edmund Locke, suffered a badly broken leg years ago, causing his leg to be scarred and twisted inward from the thigh to the ankle. I believe it was not set properly, and although I do not know for certain if that is the case, I have heard that you can create a series of braces that will gradually straighten the muscles and the foot.
We plan to be in London during the first two weeks of September. Please reply at once if you are willing to look into my husband’s case.
Most sincerely,
Lady Rose Locke