Chapter 3 #2
“Anne!” Lotty warned under her breath. She turned to their guests. “Please forgive my young friend. Her father is a surgeon-apothecary, you see, and she assisted him for years. So she is more accustomed to such . . . talk . . . than most ladies.”
Dr. Finch bit back a grin. “I see. That explains it. And where does he practice?”
“Churchdown, a village outside Gloucester. No physician lives nearby, so he is called on to help people with all sorts of maladies and even to deliver babies. As a younger man, he practiced with a more established surgeon here in Painswick for a time before setting out on his own.”
Dr. Finch raised his chin. “Ah. That I understand. I am extremely grateful to be working alongside Dr. Marsland, at least for now.”
The older man nodded. “And you will learn while you do so, if you’re willing and teachable. It’s why I feel it incumbent upon myself to point out . . . small areas of . . . needed improvement. So if and when you leave, you will take all of that experience and decorum with you to another practice.”
“It’s an honor, sir. And I sincerely appreciate the opportunity.”
“And how long have you been here in Painswick, Dr. Finch?” Anne asked.
“Nearly two months now.”
Dr. Marsland explained, “I am acquainted with his father, who was previously my uncle’s lawyer. Before he went abroad, he asked me to look out for his son here, who had decided to study medicine.”
Anne asked, “And where did you study, Dr. Finch?”
“Guy’s Hospital, in London.”
“Ah yes!” Anne replied. “My father studied there for a twelvemonth as well.”
“Then you understand the life. How refreshing.”
“Speaking of that,” Miss Lotty gently interrupted, “let’s have some refreshment.”
As if hearing her cue, Dinah brought in a kettle of hot water.
The tea caddy, teapot, milk, and sugar were already arranged on the cloth.
Miss Lotty prepared the tea at the table, as was her preference, and while they waited for it to steep, she passed around the plate of teacakes, a bowl of fresh berries, and a pitcher of cream.
Dr. Finch asked Anne, “So your father practices as an apothecary as well as a surgeon, does he?”
“Yes. He finds the two complement one another well. As a surgeon he might lance a boil and also prepare a salve to help it heal afterward.”
Lotty coughed. “Not a topic for the table, my dear.”
“Oh. Sorry,” Anne said. “My sister often tells me I am indiscreet.”
Dr. Finch’s brows shot up and he looked rather alarmed. “Are you? Indiscreet?”
At the odd question, Anne regarded him and saw the clear appeal in his dark brown eyes. Then, remembering that conversation behind the thicket, she realized the question was not so odd.
“Well, I can be discreet. When necessary.”
Again, the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple. “Good. That is . . . good. A good quality to have. Discretion.”
“Ernest, for heaven’s sake,” Dr. Marsland softly chided. “What a question. Now you’re the one displaying a want of discretion.”
Dr. Finch looked at Anne. “Pray, forgive me.”
“Not at all,” she replied. “You will find I am not easily offended. Nor shocked.”
Miss Lotty poured the tea, and for a time the four spoke of other things. Lotty explained to Dr. Finch that Anne’s mother and grandparents were from Painswick and Anne and her sister had visited regularly until Mr. and Mrs. Spring passed on.
Dr. Finch said, “Ah, so are you acquainted with many people in the town?”
“Some, yes.”
“Then you have the advantage over me. I still have so many names to learn. I wonder . . . are you acquainted with Lady Celia Fitzjohn?”
Anne’s stomach twisted. “Lady Celia?”
“Yes, the town matriarch, I suppose you could say. An earl’s daughter who married Sir Herbert Fitzjohn of Painswick Court.”
“I . . . know who she is, although I am not personally acquainted with her.”
“Dr. Marsland knows her far better, of course. Sadly her heart isn’t strong and she is growing increasingly frail. Dropsy.”
“Fluid in the chest?” Anne asked to clarify.
“Hydrothorax, yes.”
Miss Lotty said, “Unfortunately, Dr. Marsland’s usual nurse recently retired.”
Dr. Finch nodded. “So I call on Lady Celia as well, as often as I can, to try to fill the void. Between the two of us, we see her nearly every day, but we cannot stay with her day and night.” He looked from Dr. Marsland to Anne and back again.
An unspoken message seemed to pass between the two physicians.
“That gives me an idea,” Dr. Marsland said. “I wonder if you, Miss Loveday, might step in and serve as sickroom nurse for Lady Celia?”
“Me?” Anne said in astonishment. “I am not a nurse.”
“Though perhaps you might serve as one, on a temporary basis,” Dr. Marsland suggested. “Just until we can find someone more . . . experienced?”
Miss Lotty spoke up. “I would share the duty with you, Anne, but I could not manage all the stairs in Painswick Court presently. And besides, you know far more about caring for patients than I do.”
“It would be a great help,” Dr. Finch added. “And a great favor to us both. Being relatively new, I would especially appreciate your assistance. With your experience with your father, you would be ideal.”
Anne blinked, thoughts rushing. “She has a grown daughter, I believe. Could she not nurse her mother? Does she not still live with her?”
“She does, but . . .” Dr. Marsland seemed reluctant to answer.
“Miss Fitzjohn has never enjoyed good health,” Miss Lotty said, “and is something of an invalid herself.”
A line formed between the doctor’s eyebrows.
“I would not say ‘invalid,’ though somewhat delicate, yes. She contracted scarlet fever as a child, which weakened her constitution.” He looked again at Anne.
“I know it’s a lot to ask. Especially when you are here to visit Miss Lotty.
So if you would rather not, we will understand. ”
Dr. Finch said, “Perhaps we might find someone else to sit with Lady Celia, say, on Sundays. One of the maids, perhaps. That way, Miss Loveday could continue to spend some time here as well.”
Anne hesitated, mind wheeling to keep up. Things were moving too quickly!
Yes, she had capably assisted her father on many occasions.
She felt less qualified to attend a patient on her own yet would probably be equal to the task.
Anne hesitated for a different reason—she had cause to dislike Lady Celia.
Could she kindly care for a woman who had been the means of ruining the happiness of a most beloved sister?
Anne decided she must inform the doctors of this situation before things progressed any further.
She said, “I don’t know that Lady Celia would want me at Painswick Court, to be honest. We have never been formally introduced, but her nephew courted my sister until Lady Celia forbade the match.
She would likely remember our family, and—”
“Which nephew?” Dr. Marsland asked.
“Mr. Dalby.”
He lifted his chin. “Of course it was.” He and Miss Lotty shared a meaningful look.
Even Dr. Finch’s jaw clenched at the mention of his name. Anne wondered why.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean she will remember you, or at least not with any negative connotation,” Dr. Marsland said. “Loveday is a fairly common surname in this parish.”
Miss Lotty nodded. “In fact, our current postmistress shares your name, although she spells Ann without an e. And this must have been what, three or four years ago now? And both he and your sister went on to marry other people.”
“True.” Anne had been relieved when they’d learned of Mr. Dalby’s wedding, for it had helped Fanny stop pining over him, at least to a degree.
Miss Lotty bit her lip, then said, “You may not have heard, but his wife died . . . oh, about nine months ago. He is a widower now.”
“Oh no,” Anne said. “How awful.” For more reasons than one.
“He had been living with his wife in Brook House, but I understand he has been visiting Painswick Court more often since her death, so it is likely your paths would cross there. Would that be a problem?”
“A problem for me? No.”
“Good. It would be a relief to have you there,” Dr. Finch said. “Someone to keep a watchful eye on things. . . . On Lady Celia, I mean.”
Dr. Marsland countered, “But if you think old resentments will interfere . . . ?”
Would they?
“Might you be able to set aside the past?” Dr. Finch persisted. “At least for a fortnight or so? It would mean a great deal to . . . to us all.”
Anne looked at Dr. Finch, met his imploring gaze and studied his expression. Despite her reluctance and what she had overheard between him and the unknown woman, Anne liked being useful—and she liked his handsome, earnest face—so she agreed. “Yes, I am sure I can.”
I hope.