Chapter Fifteen
Luncheon concluded, and their hostess made preparations for the afternoon’s archery final, issuing instructions to the servants to distribute the targets about the grounds. As Portia took up her bow and quiver, Dr. McIver and his wife approached.
“Talented lass ye are, I’ll say,” he said, nodding to the bow in her hand. “I was just saying to Mrs. McIver, wasn’t I, my love?”
“Aye, ye did, my darling.”
“How can you speak of the talent of others when you possess qualities that we can only dream of?” Portia said.
He let out a laugh. “I was privileged enough to have the opportunity to study under the most excellent tutors, Lady Portia, by fortune of my birth and sex.”
“I’ll grant that a fine education is almost the exclusive province of men whose families can afford it,” she said, “but consider what you’ve done with your education, Dr. McIver—used your education for the good of the world.
” She gestured about the party. “Compare yourself to the rest of the gentlemen. My brother, for example, who had the benefit of an Oxford education, yet I saw no improvement in the quality of his mind after he returned compared to before. He’s supposed to have read mathematics, yet our steward manages the estate’s ledgers. ”
“As do most stewards of great estates, Lady Portia. Yer brother is a gentlemen, after all—and not just any gentleman. He has one of the most exalted titles in the kingdom. Some men are not suited to a life of academia, or a life of business.”
“But the value he brings to the world is nothing compared to you, Dr. McIver. Consider the benefits that have arisen from your research on injuries—not only to the body, but the effect that traumatic events can have on the mind. In fact—”
She broke off as she caught sight of Colonel Reid approaching.
“It’s an area of research that has long been neglected,” Dr. McIver continued, “though Dr. Lucas would disagree with me.”
“Dr. Lucas is a charlatan,” Portia said. “Even Miss Lucas knows it, though she dares not criticize her father openly. Have you seen her lately?”
“She was at the hospital last week and assisted me in a rather tricky procedure—a young maid whose foot got trapped in the coal cellar. The poor lass, I’ll wager her screams could be heard all the way to Aberdeen. Her master dismissed her on the spot, and Dr. Lucas refused to treat her.”
“Because, presumably, there was no fee in it,” Colonel Reid said, shaking his head. “I wonder at the injustices in the world. What happened to the girl?”
“I treated her myself, of course. I had to remove her foot, poor child. I thank the Almighty that Miss Lucas was there to assist. I’m afraid my nurse fainted when she caught sight of the injury.”
“Captain Broom always speaks highly of Miss Lucas,” Colonel Reid said. “That is, when he’s not extolling Lady Portia’s virtues.”
“But Euphramia Lucas has a talent for medicine that I lack,” Portia said.
“A pity, then, that she’s been denied the education her father enjoyed. She’d make a capable doctor.”
“Aye, she would,” Dr. McIver said. “I teach her what I can, but, of course, I’d need her father’s permission to take her as my apprentice. But I have embarked on a small venture that I believe not even Dr. Lucas would prevent her from assisting with.”
“Which is?”
“A convalescent institution, where patients can recover until they are well enough to return home.”
“Can they not remain in hospital?” Colonel Reid asked.
“There are too many acute cases needing treatment, and the hospital lacks capacity.”
“Then they should be sent home.”
“Not all patients are as fortunate as Captain Broom, with a loving sweetheart ready to care for him. Take young Tilly, the maid I treated. She must learn to walk again before she can seek employment elsewhere. Her master won’t take her back, and she has no family.”
“Poor girl,” Portia said. “Perhaps I could take her in.”
“And what of the hundreds of others I treat, Lady Portia? Ye cannot save everyone.”
“Och, let the lass help the wee girl if she’s so inclined,” Mrs. McIver said. “Ye’ve still to raise the funds for yer venture, and she’ll have nowhere to go until then.”
“I’ve another donation for you, Dr. McIver,” Portia said, lowering her voice and glancing toward her brother—but he was engrossed in conversation with their host. “I can send it over as soon as I return to London.”
“I’m afraid ye must wait until next month, lass,” Dr. McIver said, taking his wife’s hand. “My wife and I are taking a vacation in the Highlands. It’s almost twenty years to the day that she made me the happiest man alive.”
Portia’s heart swelled at the love in their eyes as they exchanged a glance. Would she ever experience such a love—a love that lasted for decades?
“Then, with your permission, I’ll bring it to you myself on your return and you can tell me all about your vacation,” Portia said. “It’s fifty pounds. Perhaps it will be sufficient for your venture. And I might have more to give you next month.”
“That’s too generous of ye, lass. What must yer brother think?”
She linked her arm with his and glanced toward her brother. “What Adam doesn’t know brings him to no harm.”
“I wouldn’t want ye to deceive yer brother, Lady Portia. He’s a fine man. What say ye, colonel?”
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “That it’s wrong to conceal the truth.”
“Even for a good cause?” Portia asked.
His expression hardened. “No matter the nobility of the objective, I cannot condone any form of deception. To show such a lack of integrity is most reprehensible.”
At that moment, Eleanor’s voice rang out. “Colonel! We’re about to begin. Come choose your bow.”
“At your service, Duchess,” he said, his smile returning, and approached her.
“I’m afraid ye must excuse me for a moment,” Dr. McIver said. “I fear I’ve taken a little too much of our hostess’s fine lemonade.” He trotted off toward the building, and Portia linked her arm through Mrs. McIver’s.
“Does your husband need to raise a substantial sum to fund his venture?”
“One hundred and fifty pounds will secure the building. We can fund very little of it ourselves. Alastair will insist on treating those who cannot afford to pay, though I love him all the more for it.” She turned her adoring gaze on her husband’s retreating back and sighed.
“Dr. McIver is fortunate in his choice of wife,” Portia said.
“I’m the fortunate one, Lady Portia. Alastair loves me enough to indulge my wish to assist him in his work rather than insist I remain in the home. Marriage is a step into the unknown—we know so little of our prospective partners that uniting ourselves to them for life carries such a risk.”
“And that risk is greater for a wife, because she’s the one surrendering her body and her freedom to her husband.”
“Precisely. We women must ascertain that our prospective partner for life is in possession of a good soul. Of course, I knew Alastair was a man of honor, but nevertheless, he’s granted me freedoms that I could never dream of having had I married a gentleman.
Though, of course, there are some fine gentlemen here today. ”
“Eleanor is to be applauded for her choice of guests,” Portia said.
“One in particular, perhaps?” Mrs. McIver gave a shy smile. “I trust I’ve not spoken out of turn.”
“Of course not.”
“Excellent. In which case, permit me to say that I trust when your time comes, you will choose as wisely for yourself as I did for myself.”
“Portia, darling, do join us!” Eleanor called out. “We’re ready to begin.” She gestured to the man standing beside her in a tweed jacket. “Our gamekeeper James has concealed ten targets in the woodland between here and the line of fir trees in front of the lake. Thank you, James.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Eleanor continued. “Our footmen are manning each target to keep a tally of your scores. You each have ten arrows, one for each target. If you fire more than one arrow at a target, you forfeit your score for that target. If you deviate from the path, you forfeit the game.” She smiled.
“After all, deviation from the path risks your being hit by a stray arrow, and I would not send you home injured, even if we are in the company of the finest doctor in the country.”
“Who is currently languishing on the privy,” Portia’s brother said, chuckling. “Oh no—here he comes.” He waved to Dr. McIver, who was returning from the building. “Glad you could join us.”
“We’re fortunate to have Dr. McIver here today,” Stephen said, “unless you know how to bandage a wound, Foxton?”
Portia suppressed a laugh. “My brother is hardly capable of dressing himself unaided.”
“That’s what a valet is for, Portia,” Adam said. “I wouldn’t sully my hands with—”
“Foxton, that’s enough,” Whitcombe said, taking Eleanor’s hand. “Would you take advantage of my wife’s hospitality by teasing the other guests?”
“Certainly not, old boy.”
Stephen nodded, then his gaze settled on Portia, and her heart lifted at the warmth in his eyes.
Adam turned to Eleanor. “Forgive me, Duchess. I meant no offense.”
“None taken,” she said, a smile dancing in her dark-emerald eyes. “It’s only possible to take offense if you value the opinion of the alleged offender. You are therefore at liberty to speak freely.”
Adam nodded and smiled. Stephen let out a snort, and when Portia met his gaze again, he’d covered his mouth with his hand, and mirth flickered in his eyes.
“When the hour is up,” Eleanor continued, “James here will fire a single shot in the air, after which the winner will be declared. Are you all ready? Then begin. And remember, don’t stray from the path!”
*
Eleanor’s gamekeeper was to be commended for his creativity. Out of the first eight targets Portia located, five were as expected—at eye level and approximately fifty yards from the path—but the other three were partially concealed among the rhododendrons.
As for the ninth…
Someone had set it halfway up a tree.
She retrieved an arrow from her quiver and nocked it, then heard a voice from behind.