Page 83 of Libby's London Merchant
It was on the tip of her tongue to withdraw from the expedition that morning because she could not miss the mail delivery. She dismissed the idea. It had been over a month now and nothing had come from Holyoke. Quite wisely, the doctor had reconsidered and had decided to look elsewhere. There was no sense in lagging back anymore.
“Very well, brother, lead on,” she said.
“Bravo,” Mama exclaimed, and touched her hand. “Let me loan you a new bonnet that Uncle Ames insisted I buy. How free he is with his money, upon occasion.” She laughed. “We should keep him by the sea!”
Libby and Joseph ventured along the Promenade to the mews, where Libby stood in polite boredom while Joseph leaned on the fence, adoring the horses from a distance, pointing out their excellent qualities, and wishing himself closer.
The breeze blew her bonnet back from her face and she raised her chin, enjoying the hot sun on her skin. The air smelled of tar and saltwater and sand, mingled with roasting meat and pasties from vendors hawking their wares along the oceanfront.
When she tired of the view, she watched her brother. His wound had healed beautifully, the scar a red line still, but thin and hiding. Soon it would be a white scar scarcely noticeable, a testimony to the ability of his surgeon. And Mama still laughs when I mention Anthony Cook’s name, she thought. I wish she knew him as well as I know him.
The thought made her blush, for no reason she could discern, particularly since she had given him up for lost. She was comparing the merits of his kiss in the Caseys’ cottage to the duke’s kiss in the orchard, when Joseph tugged at her arm and reminded her that the horses had moved off and, besides, he was hungry.
They returned arm in arm to the quiet house on the Marine Parade, chased each other up the stairs, and burst into the sitting room to find Mama serving tea to Anthony Cook.
A twinkle in her eyes, Mama glanced up from the cup she held, checking the flow of tea in midstream. “My dear, must you burst into a room that way? One would think you were being chased by Cossacks, and we know that this is not the case.”
While Libby stared in shocked amazement, Joseph sat down beside Anthony, who took the boy’s face in his hands, murmuring, “The lengths I will go to to follow up on a patient’s progress. Hold still, lad.”
He turned Joseph’s head more to the light and examined his handiwork with a smile of satisfaction. “Excellent, excellent,” he said. “These buried sutures are entirely satisfactory,” he told Joseph, who looked at him, a question in his eyes. “Never mind, laddy, so glad you don’t remember it. Who removed your stitches?”
“Mama was bound and determined to take me to Dr. Pearman, but Libby beat her to it,” he said. “It didn’t even hurt, and we must have saved any number of shillings.”
The doctor looked over the top of his spectacles to Libby, who still stood by the door, too shy to move. “She will likely put me out of business if such quackery is allowed to run rampant. Cat got your tongue, ma’am?”
“No... no,” she stammered, and came closer, offering her hand, which the doctor held in his own until Mama coughed. “How do you do, sir?”
She could see how he did, and she was pleased. Of course, it was difficult to cast a critical eye over the entire doctor, especially when he stood so close, but she could plainly tell that he had been spending less time at the dinner table. With less overhang in the front, he seemed taller and more commanding, more like the squire. His spectacles still slid down his nose as he looked at her, a slight smile on his face, and his hair was as thick and curly as ever.
“Actually, I do very well, thank you. Father is much better, too. I don’t sleep longer than I ever did at nights, but at least Farrell Frink has not fallen down any more wells, and babies have been kindlier, of late. Sit down and take off that hat so I can see how you do.”
She did as he said without question and sat, scooting Joseph closer to the doctor until her brother got up and moved to Mother’s side. They drank tea together in perfect accord as Anthony told them all the Holyoke gossip he was privy to, mentioning that Eustace and Lydia had returned to Holyoke Green long enough to look over the local church and find it wanting.
“I always thought it a charming place, myself,” said the doctor as he shook his head over the sweets Mama offered him. “I think Lydia has her eye on an abbey for her nuptials, or Canterbury Cathedral at least.”
Mama snorted in decided unladylike fashion and said something that no one could quite hear.
“Did ... did the duke accompany them?” Libby asked, keeping her voice as offhand as possible.
“No, he did not,” the doctor replied. “I asked Lydia about him, and she said that since their return to London, no one has seen much of him. He does not go to the parties and routs and appears to have abandoned Eustace.”
“How strange,” said Libby. “I thought they were best friends. I do not hope he has resumed drinking.”
“That is my thought, too, Elizabeth. I asked Lydia about that and she gave me a blank stare. She thinks he may have rusticated to his family estate in Yorkshire.”
There was no way to keep the duke part of the conversation. Libby nibbled on a biscuit as the subject passed to Uncle Ames’ gout. “If you have been physicking him, I wish you well,” the doctor declared. He rummaged in his pocket for a packet of salts and noticed the humor in her eyes she couldn’t hide. “I will not spread them around the room this time, my dear. I trust the canary recovered.”
“That seems so long ago,” Libby murmured.
“The beginning of summer,” her replied, handing the salts to Mama. “Now it is hops harvest, and that brings me to the reason for my visit.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, looking Joseph in the eye. “It is a two-part errand I come on. I have a proposal for Joseph and a statement for Elizabeth that I dare not postpone further.”
“Speak on, then, sir,” said Mama, the light leaving her eyes. She glanced at her daughter and began to twist her wedding ring again.
“Joseph, I have hired a groom to replace the poor excuse that Father sacked. Perhaps you know of him: Granger of Llydd.”
Joseph sucked in his breath. “Who doesn’t know him, sir? In his day, he was the greatest rider at Newmarket.”
