Chapter 9
Anne rose early the next morning after little sleep to see how Lady Celia was faring.
“Thirsty,” the woman murmured in reply.
Anne slipped on shoes and buttoned a long pelisse over her nightclothes, not bothering to fully dress or tidy her hair before going downstairs for Lady Celia’s breakfast tray and beverages for her thirst.
When she returned, Louie circled her feet, tail wagging. Lady Celia sipped gingerly at the black tea with milk and the lemon-barley water but refused even a spoonful of gruel, although Anne assured her there was nothing wrong with the food and that Mrs. Pratt had prepared the gruel herself.
“You must eat as well as drink to keep up your strength,” Anne said.
“Not yet. My stomach is still unwell.” She lay back on the pillows, face pinched with weariness and discomfort. “But please do take Louie out, if you would, and see that he is fed.”
“Of course.”
Having sewing to do, Rosa promised to stay within calling distance should Lady Celia need anything.
Anne thanked her, clipped a lead to the dog’s collar, and slid it around her wrist so she could manage the tray.
She carried the untouched food back to the kitchen before taking Louie outside for a walk around the grounds.
The dog eagerly sniffed the grass and trees and strained against the lead whenever a squirrel scampered past.
Colonel Paine came strolling toward Painswick Court, fish basket strapped over his shoulder and rod in hand.
Anne immediately felt self-conscious to be seen in such a state. Her hair still hung over her shoulder in a long plait, with strands beginning to unravel and blow around her face. Worse yet, her nightdress hem showed from beneath her pelisse, wet from the morning dew and probably dirty as well.
She was tempted to slip in through the side door and dress properly before encountering anyone else. After all, a nurse was supposed to maintain a clean, neat appearance.
The dog barked, and Colonel Paine looked over and waved.
There was nothing for it. She could not return to the house without stopping to greet him.
“Anne, good morning.”
“Good morning, Colonel.”
“Jasper, remember. We are old friends, are we not?”
Pleasure warmed her despite her self-consciousness. “We are.”
“You are out and about early.”
“Yes, Lady Celia asked me to take Louie outside. I have not had time to tidy my hair. I no doubt look a fright.”
“Not at all. You look remarkably well. Your color has been heightened by the fresh air, and your eyes brightened by the exercise.”
Anne looked down, fearing her cheeks were growing more colorful—or at least red—by the second.
With his free hand, he reached over and tucked a windblown strand of hair behind her ear.
She glanced up in surprise, and noticed his expression change, and his own face redden.
He cleared his throat. “I heard what happened to Aunt Celia. Awful. How is the poor old girl today?”
“Still weak and nauseous, and wheezing a bit, but better.”
Eyes distant, Jasper frowned. “Such a bad idea bringing lobster into the house. But Jude has always been the favored one here. Anything for him.”
Anne recognized the vulnerability beneath Jasper’s acerbic words but decided not to poke at the wound.
Instead she asked, “Anything else your aunt cannot tolerate? I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t think to ask Dr. Marsland before now.
And your aunt was in no fit state to answer questions after her . . . episode.”
“All shellfish I believe, not just lobster. Beyond that, nothing springs to mind. No foods anyway. Although I believe she has had bad reactions to bee-stings as well. One of the reasons she does not spend a great deal of time out of doors, I imagine.”
Still sniffing the ground, Louie gripped a stick between his teeth. Anne bent and tugged at it playfully. The dog held on, tilting his head side to side, clearly enjoying the game.
“Louie, drop!” Jasper commanded.
Startled, the little dog obeyed. Setting down his fishing gear, Jasper bent and retrieved the stick, tossing it far away.
The dog ran after it across the grass, pulling the lead from Anne’s grasp. “I’m supposed to keep him on a lead.”
“I’ll take the blame if my aunt complains.”
The dog came back a short while later, stick in his mouth and burrs in his hair.
“Oh no.” Anne lowered herself and began pulling them free. Jasper sank to his haunches to assist her.
The spaniel pressed close to lick Anne’s cheek, and she rubbed his silky ears in reply.
“He is fond of you, isn’t he?”
“Seems to be.”
“I don’t blame him.” Jasper rose and reached down a hand to her. She accepted it, and he helped her to her feet.
For a moment they stood facing each other, her hand in his. When he kept hold of it, she looked up at him in question. She saw admiration in his hazel eyes, and fondness, and wistfulness too.
Surprise, pleasure, and discomfort flowed through Anne under his warm, direct gaze.
He was attracted to her? That was new. And she wasn’t sure what to think about it.
What in the world would she be getting into, marrying into such a family?
No, wait—had she forgotten so quickly? She was not getting married.
As if reading her mind, Jasper said, “I am surprised you have not yet married, as pretty and clever as you are.”
“Thank you,” she replied, striving to keep her voice light. “I am content as I am. Although my stepmother has done her valiant best to introduce me to every eligible man shy of sixty in Gloucestershire.”
He chuckled.
“She is expecting yet another child and made it clear I ought to move out to make room for their growing brood.”
“So that’s why you came here?”
Anne nodded. “Miss Lotty invited me to stay with her, and I longed to return. So many memories here. My grandparents, my mother, my father’s early years in practice . . .”
He raised his chin, gazing thoughtfully into the distance. “I did not know them well, but your parents and your grandparents seemed happy together. Both love matches, I take it?”
“Yes. And to be fair, my father and his second wife seem happy too.”
He bent, plucked a wildflower with his free hand, and twirled it in his fingers.
“Unfortunately I do not have that luxury. Not many in my situation can afford to marry without some attention to money. Younger sons cannot often marry where they like.” He handed her the flower.
A wild geranium blossom, she realized. A symbol of friendship.
His message was clear. He admired her. Yet he must marry someone with money. And that someone was not her.
“I understand,” Anne said. “And I am glad we are friends.”
“I am too.” He gave her a rueful grin. “Though it’s a pity you’re not an heiress.”
Anne was unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted. Since he was a childhood friend, she made do with rolling her eyes.
Dr. Finch walked up the drive, medical bag in one hand and small bouquet of flowers in the other.
He drew up short upon spotting her and Colonel Paine standing together, hands clasped.
With a tug, she extracted her hand and waved to the doctor, again wishing she might duck inside before he neared and saw in detail how unkempt the new nurse was.
Instead, she forced a smile. Glancing at the bouquet of white carnations, pink roses, and purple salvia, Anne resolved not to jump to conclusions again.
“For . . . Lady Celia?” she asked tentatively.
He looked down at the flowers as if just remembering he held them.
“Oh, em, no,” he replied. “I saw these as I passed the market. After the, em . . . misunderstanding with the others, I . . .” He glanced from Colonel Paine to her again, gaze lowering to the blossom already in her hand.
“But on second thought . . .” Clearly flustered, he seemed about to turn away, taking his offering with him.
Aware of his embarrassment, Anne stepped forward and reached for the flowers. “Most considerate of you, Dr. Finch. Thank you.”
He shifted from foot to foot. “Perhaps you might concoct something from these as well.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I shall . . . think of something. In fact, I am on my way to the stillroom now.” She nodded from one to the other. “Good day, gentlemen.”
Cheeks warm, Anne walked away, feeling two pairs of eyes on her back . . . or perhaps on her untidy hair.
Going down to the stillroom with the dog, she put the flowers in water and fed Louie his breakfast, determined to give him a good brushing before Lady Celia noticed how untidy her new pet was too.
Later, dog groomed, and herself as well, Anne reentered Lady Celia’s room with a cup of chamomile tea and found Dr. Finch sitting near the bed having a friendly chat with the patient.
As she set the cup and saucer on Lady Celia’s bedside table, Dr. Finch said, “Well, I am glad you are feeling, and breathing, somewhat better this morning. But you do need to eat and especially make a point of drinking a good deal of wholesome liquids for the next few days.”
“Now you sound like Anne.”
“Why, thank you.” He smiled and rose. “Miss Loveday, if you would please walk me out? Miss Fitzjohn mentioned a new remedy you’ve made for her headaches. Perhaps you might explain the contents?”
“Certainly. I will return soon, Lady Celia. Remember, Rosa is sewing in the dressing room if you need her.”
The two walked out, and Anne once again closed the door and inserted the goose feather. As they walked down the stairs and through the house, Anne described the headache remedy her father favored: peppermint, blessed thistle, and willow bark.
He opened the door for her, and she followed him outside. On the paving-stone walkway, he stopped and said, “I was surprised to see you and Colonel Paine together this morning.”
“Were you? I simply took the dog for an early walk and happened to meet him.”
“You two seem rather . . . close.”