Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The basket crashed to the ground, glass vials shattering in a symphony of destruction that sent the scent of chamomile and feverfew spiraling into the morning air.
Sybil stared at the ruins of her carefully prepared herbal remedies, her heart hammering against her ribs as Hugo’s furious voice echoed off the stone walls of the Assembly room entrance.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
She spun to face him, confusion warring with indignation as she took in his thunderous expression. He stood in the doorway like an avenging angel, his amber eyes blazing with a fury she hadn’t seen since the incident with Leah’s creatures.
What is he so angry about? I was only trying to help.
“I was bringing remedies for the girls who’ve taken ill,” she said, gesturing helplessly at the scattered glass and crushed herbs at her feet. “Margaret sent word that several of them have developed coughs and—”
“Remedies.” The word came out like a curse. “You were administering untested preparations to children in my care.”
“They’re perfectly safe,” she protested. “Chamomile for settling stomachs, willow bark for fever, and honey and lemon for sore throats. Nothing more dangerous than what any competent housekeeper might prepare.”
“Any competent housekeeper,” Hugo repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet tone, “would have consulted with the household physician before dosing sick children with homemade concoctions.”
“These are established remedies,” she said, her own temper beginning to flare. “I’ve used them successfully for years at the orphanage. The girls know and trust these preparations.”
“The girls are not your responsibility anymore.” Each word felt like a sharp blade to her skin. “They are under my protection now which means any treatment must be properly supervised.”
“So, you’d rather they suffer needlessly while waiting for a physician who may not arrive for hours?” she demanded. “When simple, harmless remedies could provide immediate relief?”
“I’d rather they receive proper medical attention from qualified practitioners instead of experimental treatments from someone with no formal training.”
No formal training. The dismissal stung more than it should have, particularly coming from the man who’d seemed so impressed by her knowledge just yesterday.
“I may not have formal training,” she said through gritted teeth, “but I have eight years of experience treating everything from scraped knees to serious fevers. These girls are alive and healthy because of my care.”
“Are they?” Hugo stepped closer, his presence filling the narrow corridor. “Or have you simply been fortunate that your amateur remedies haven’t caused serious harm?”
“You arrogant—” She stopped herself just in time though her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “How dare you question my competence when you’ve seen the results of my work firsthand?”
“I’ve seen results,” Hugo agreed, his amber eyes boring into hers. “But I’ve also seen what happens when good intentions go wrong. When people with limited knowledge attempt to treat conditions they don’t fully understand.”
Why is he being so unreasonable? Yesterday, he was encouraging my interest in herbal medicine, and now, he’s acting as though I’m some reckless amateur.
“I would never give them anything I hadn’t tested thoroughly,” she said, trying to inject calm into her voice. “Everything in that basket was prepared according to established methods, using ingredients I’ve grown myself or purchased from reputable sources.”
“No matter, you have no business administering any treatment to those children without proper consultation,” Hugo said coldly.
“Proper consultation with whom?” she demanded. “The nearest physician is a two-hour ride away, and by the time he arrives, simple coughs could develop into something far more serious.”
“Better than risking their lives without proper consultation.”
“And who exactly should I have consulted?” she demanded. “You? What do you know about treating childhood illnesses beyond what any concerned father might know?”
Hugo’s jaw tightened dangerously. “I know enough to recognize when someone is acting beyond their competence.”
“My competence has treated everything from minor injuries to serious illnesses without a single loss of life,” she said with icy precision.
Hugo stepped closer, close enough that she could see the gold flecks in his angry amber eyes.
“Well, that competence will involve exposing yourself to illness for the sake of people you feel responsible for. Involve risks you refuse to acknowledge because you’re so focused on helping that you can’t see the potential for harm. ”
He’s afraid. The realization hit her with sudden, startling clarity. He’s not angry, he’s terrified.
But terrified of what? That she might harm the children? Or something else entirely?
“Hugo,” she said more gently, “I would never do anything to endanger those girls. You must know that.”
“What I know,” he said, his voice rough with emotion she didn’t entirely understand, “is that you have a dangerous tendency to put others’ welfare ahead of your own safety. And that you refuse to acknowledge when you’re taking risks that could have devastating consequences.”
“I’m perfectly capable of assessing risk,” she said though with less conviction than before.
“And what happens when there isn’t time for assessing risks? When children are suffering, and you feel pressured to act quickly?”
When children are suffering. Like Emmie was suffering when I finally found her.
The memory hit without warning—Emmie’s fever-bright eyes, her desperate gasps for air, the way she’d begged for something, anything, to ease her pain. And Sybil’s desperate attempts to help, trying remedy after remedy while watching helplessly as her sister slipped away.
Is that what he’s thinking about? How good intentions go wrong when time is running out?
“I understand your concerns,” she said quietly. “But I also understand that sometimes action is necessary even when the outcome is uncertain.”
“You have a tendency to sacrifice your own well-being for others without considering the impact of losing you.” Hugo said, his voice dropping to that intimate register that made her pulse quicken despite their argument.
The impact of losing you.
“You’re going to give up this work,” he said finally. It wasn’t a question.
“No,” she said simply. “I’m not.”
“Even if I forbid it?”
Forbid it? As if he has that right.
“You can’t forbid me from using knowledge I’ve spent years acquiring,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “You can’t forbid me from helping people who need assistance.”
“I can forbid you from taking unnecessary risks that could endanger your health or safety.”
“The children need me,” she said simply.
“I need you.”
The words hung between them like a confession neither had expected. Hugo’s expression showed surprise at his own admission, but he didn’t take it back.
He needs me. Not for his daughters, not for his household, but for himself.
“Hugo,” she started, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“I need you,” he said again, his voice rough with emotion. “Which means you will not take reckless chances with your safety. You will not enter buildings full of sick children without proper precautions. You will not administer any treatments, no matter how mild, without a qualified physician.”
“And if the qualified physicians are unavailable?” she asked. “If children are suffering and I have the knowledge to help them?”
“Then you send for me,” Hugo said firmly. “You don’t act alone.”
“I can accept that,” she said slowly. “In principle.”
“In principle?”
“In principle, collaboration is preferable. In practice, it’s not always possible. Sometimes situations arise that require immediate action, regardless of whether backup is available.”
Hugo’s expression grew stern again. “And in those situations?”
“In those situations, I’ll use my best judgment based on the knowledge and experience I have.”
“No.” The word came out sharp and final.
What?
“I will not promise to abandon people who need help,” she said firmly. “I will not agree to stand by helplessly when I have the knowledge and ability to assist.”
“Then we have a problem,” Hugo said grimly.
“Yes,” she agreed, meeting his gaze directly. “We do.”
They stared at each other in the narrow corridor, both breathing hard from the intensity of their argument. The air between them crackled with tension—anger and frustration and something else, something that made Sybil’s pulse race and her skin burn despite the harsh words they’d exchanged.
He’s afraid for me. Genuinely, desperately afraid for my safety.
The realization should have softened her anger, should have made her more willing to compromise. Instead, it only strengthened her resolve.
I won’t be controlled by anyone’s fears, no matter how well-intentioned.