Chapter Five

O h dear. This nice man is going to think I am humiliated by his plain speaking , Ivy thought. She watched his face redden and found herself charmed that someone with such a fraught life in a time of war could blush. She did what she knew might help and raised the teapot. “More tea, sir?”

Somehow, that tickled his funny bone. He laughed again, even leaning back in his chair. She couldn’t help smiling, because his merriment diffused the situation remarkably. “See here, Captain, you have been too long from England if you have forgotten that more tea is good at warding off upstarts and people with no imagination.”

“Neither of which I am, Miss Pritchard,” he assured her. “Still, it was unkind of me to say he was a …well, I shan’t repeat it.”

“Coward and malingerer?” she said, her own face warm. She set down the pot and stared at her hands. “I don’t doubt you.”

He visibly started at her comment, recovered himself and persisted. “I should not have maligned your fiancé. That was inexcusable. Perhaps I should leave before my big mouth gets me in more trouble. Thank you for the wonderful breakfast, and a sound night’s sleep.”

When he rose, Ivy raised her hand and lowered it, knowing he would either sit or he wouldn’t. She had no control over him. She didn’t know what to say. To her relief, he sat and held out his teacup. She filled it and they sipped in silence.

When he said nothing for a lengthy time, she decided he would probably apologize for saying that she could do better, and then take his leave. Any other consideration was outside the realm of probability, considering how life usually went for women (This based on observation, which she was good at). The onus is on you, sir , she thought. She decided it was worth the wait, until she realized that no, the onus was on her. He had told her she could do better. He deserved a response. It was unlikely she would ever see him again after this encounter. This required a deep breath before she began.

“Sir, it must be obvious to you that I have a facial defect,” she said, chin up, shoulders squared, as she remembered children teasing her when she was little. That stung a bit, even now. She hoped it didn’t show on her face.

“A very small defect,” he said. “D’ye mind?” He leaned closer and raised her eyelid. “No strabismus; you’re not cross-eyed. It’s ptosis. Many call it ‘lazy eye.’ Can you see clearly?”

“I can.”

“No problem then.”

“Not unless you’re the only unmarried lady in the district with a lazy eye,” she said. “My parents assured me that a comeout of any sort, even here in Yorkshire, would be pointless.”

She could tell that startled him. “You never argued the matter?”

Oh, these men! They think women have a choice in anything. “I obeyed,” she said quietly. “It’s what ladies do.” She needn’t add that her mother was vain and shallow and had never reconciled herself to a daughter with a flaw. That wasn’t his business. “I obeyed,” she repeated, more for herself than him probably, because she was beginning to think she had been treated unfairly by her parents.

“Seems unfair. As I said, it’s a small matter. Some might think it a charming defect. It has certainly never bothered me.”

She blushed at that. “It bothers my mother. She has always made me sit facing sideways, so no one will notice it.” Did I actually say that out loud? she thought, appalled at herself. “I…mean…”

“I wouldn’t do that to a child of mine.” He touched her hand, just a touch. “Doctor’s orders: We never repeat a confidence.” His smile relieved her heart. “I think Hippocrates himself said that first. We in the trade of medicine all live by it. No fears.”

His frankness surprised her; so did his evident sympathy. She wondered if she had ever known anyone who said what he thought. Perhaps it was a peculiarity of doctors. “I cannot change that now,” she told him. “Please don’t think my parents were unkind. They settled a good marriage portion on me, and the Baldwins next door agreed. I have been engaged to Captain Baldwin for four years.”

His frown deepened, but he said nothing. What was there to say? She decided on a change of subject. “You mentioned last night that you were leaving as soon as the general returns.”

“I am. Your fiancé won’t believe me, but he is perfectly fine and doesn’t need my help. I am leaving as soon as I can.”

“What are your plans?” she asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but it must be nice to be able to do whatever you want.”

His expression turned bleak. She put down her cup and grasped his arms. It was horribly forward of her, but she had an idea––only an idea––how terrible his war had been. Last night she had looked in on him and even sat by him briefly, when he started to mutter and thrash around. A hand on his arm had quieted him then. Might as well tell him.

“I was sitting by you last night when you started moving and talking in your sleep,” she said.

She must have touched a nerve, which wasn’t her intention. He started, then shook his head. “It’s a foolish thing. It seems I am doomed to think over all those men I could not save, and rehearse what I should have done better.”

Where was her nerve coming from? Poor, poor man. She gave him a little shake, just a gentle one, because this was far from appropriate. “Perhaps instead you could lull yourself to sleep by thinking of all the men you saved.”

She realized she still gripped his arms, and let him go, embarrassed. “My apologies, sir,” she murmured.

“No, no. Thank you,” he told her. “I have often wished I had a choice in the matter. Maybe I have a choice in how I remember it. Thank you again,” he repeated.

She knew it was time for a monumental change of subject. “I hope you have a wonderful place in mind where you can start a medical practice. Of your choosing,” she added, sounding droll enough that he laughed, clearing the air.

“I had thought maybe Yorkshire,” he said hesitantly, then seemed to forget himself. “What would you do, if you could choose?”

So much for clearing the air. No one had ever asked her that. “I’d probably run away,” she said with a smile, hoping he would think it was a joke, even if it wasn’t.

To her relief, he must have thought she was teasing because he asked, “Where would you run away to?”

“P’raps Baltimore, in Maryland,” she said, striving for a light tone. “I have a cousin there and he says the air is balmy and never really cold.” No need to tell him that she thought about Baltimore all the time, dreaming she could somehow buy a house there and raise chickens and not wear wool stockings in the winter that made her legs itch. She knew it was wishful thinking. “See here, sir, I am going to give up wishful thinking in a New Year’s Resolution.”

He fell for it, to her relief, and laughed. “I hope you get to Baltimore soon, Miss Pritchard! I had better return to Summer’s Edge. I made no such resolution, so I shall wishfully think myself somewhere else, too.”

“You’ll be leaving soon, though, won’t you?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound wistful.

“As soon as ever I can, Miss Pritchard,” he replied.

She could tell he meant it.

Jake politely declined her offer of a conveyance, and footed it across the meadow between the two estates. Thanks to a good sleep, he felt alert and positive that he could weather two more weeks here, more or less, and then bid farewell to the most useless patient he had the misfortune to deal with.

His good cheer vanished as soon as he arrived at Summer’s Edge. Practically plucking at his sleeve, the butler urged him to hurry upstairs to the captain’s room.

“Sir, he declares he is in the verge of a relapse, and we do not know how to placate him,” Chickering said. “His mother has gone into strong hysterics. I believe you gave her some sort of draught the last time this happened.”

“I’ll see her first,” Jack said. “Bring a glass of warm water to my room. I’ll add those special powders.”

While he waited for the water to arrive, he dug into his medical satchel and took out a packet of alum and sugar. He stirred that into the water, and added a drop of oil of cloves. The result smelled vaguely medicinal, with the alum making it bitter enough to convince the worst hypochondriac that it would do some good.

Lady Prudence Baldwin seemed well enough when he tapped on her door and opened it. When she saw who it was, she began to weep and carry on, claiming heart palpitations and dizziness and blaming him.

“How could you leave my poor son for so long?” she demanded, between wiping dry eyes with a lace handkerchief.

“He’ll be fine, Lady Prudence,” he soothed, wanting to strangle her, along with her equally useless son. He couldn’t help but think that any children belonging to Ivy Pritchard would be practical and useful, at least as long as she didn’t marry George Baldwin. “Here you are. That’s better. You’ll feel fine soon. Just lie down. Ah, that’s good. I’ll see to George now.”

Out of morbid curiosity, he opened Captain Baldwin’s door without knocking. He peered in to see his patient admiring himself in his full-length mirror, turning this way and that to preen. As soon as he saw Jake’s reflection in the mirror, he collapsed by lowering himself gently enough to the floor. “I am in such agony,” he gasped. “Don’t think I won’t complain to the Medical Department! You abandoned me.”

“I did no such thing. Complain all you wish,” Jake said. “I have signed letters releasing me from service. The minute your father crosses the threshold at Summer’s Edge, I will be gone. What is bothering you now?”

“Your neglect,” George snapped. “Anything could have happened to me last night or this morning, and where were you, but slumbering away at my fiancée’s house. Have you no shame?”

“None whatever. Here drink this.”

It was another useless potion. George was asleep in minutes. Jake went to the window and stared across the field to the Pritchard manor. Ivy, you deserve someone much better than George Baldwin , he thought.

Another thought sidled into his brain and stood there, waiting: Me, perhaps . That was all. He shrugged and put it down to holly and ivy and other Christmas nonsense.