First Comes Scandal

Now that she knew her way around Edinburgh—at least enough to get herself to the lecture hall—she was able to convince Marian that she did not need her accompaniment. Jameson would be with her; the driver, too. Plus, Georgie was no longer an unmarried maiden. She did not need chaperon-age every time she left the house.

Not to mention that with Marian at Scotsby, Georgie and Nicholas would have the carriage all to themselves for the long ride home.

Georgie might be new to marriage, but she was not stupid.

But first there was the ride to the city. Georgie had never had difficulty reading in carriages, so she brought the medical textbook Nicholas had given her to help pass the time.

First Lines of the Practice of Physic by William Cullen, M.D. Thus far she’d only managed to get through the preface and the introduction. Fifty-two pages in all, though, so it wasn’t as if she was being a layabout. The material was fascinating, but she’d never read anything like it before, and it required far more of her attention and time than her usual reading choices.

She’d also discovered that Nicholas had given her only the first volume. Of four.

She’d be reading this for months.

Then she thought of all the other books he had on his shelf at the boardinghouse. Had he read them all? Was it even possible for a human being to do so?

She wondered if Dr. Simmons, the man who’d treated her asthma back in Kent, read books like First Lines of the Practice of Physic. According to her copy, the original publication date was 1777. Dr. Simmons was easily in his sixties. He would have completed his medical training well before 1777. Had he continued his education on his own? Was he required to?

Who kept track of doctors once they finished their studies? Anyone?

Georgie had questions.

But these could wait. Instead, she busied herself with the book. She flipped to the first page of Part I.

Of Pyrexiae, or Febrile Diseases.

Fevers. This would be interesting.

She finished that page fairly quickly, then turned to the next.

Book One.

Wait, Book One of Part One?

She continued.

Chapter One.

She blinked. Chapter One of Book One of Part One.

Good heavens.

At least Dr. Cullen had broken his text into even smaller portions, most not even half a page long. The white space on the page seemed to make it easier to separate each topic in her mind. Chapter One began with portion eight, one through seven having been taken up with the introduction.

Out of curiosity she flipped ahead to the end of Book One. Two hundred and thirty-four separate portions!

How was it possible there were two hundred and thirty-four different things to know about fevers?

She was beginning to develop new respect for Nicholas’s studies, which was saying something, as she’d already respected it a great deal.

Georgie read for about an hour, looking up every now and then to watch the countryside roll past her window. She couldn’t help it. She needed to give her eyes a break. Maybe that was why Dr. Cullen had broken his text up into so many smaller portions. Maybe he understood that human beings couldn’t focus their attention on such difficult material for more than half a page at a time.

How could something so interesting be so difficult to read? She was on portion forty-four, which began, somewhat discouragingly: “This may be difficult to explain …”

She sighed. It was also difficult to understand. Maybe she needed to take a rest. She closed her eyes.

Just for a moment.

Just for long enough to clear her mind for a few minutes before diving back into the textbook. Just a little nap until …

“Ma’am? Mrs. Rokesby?”

Georgie opened groggy eyes. Were they already in—

“Ma’am,” Jameson said, looking up at her through the open carriage door, “we’re here. In Edinburgh.”

So they were.

Georgie blinked herself awake, rubbing her forehead inelegantly as she peered out the window. They were parked just outside of the university lecture hall. They wouldn’t be able to leave the carriage there for a long period of time. The plan was for her and Jameson to get out while the driver took the carriage to the square where he’d waited earlier in the week.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she gathered her things. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“It was a smooth ride, ma’am,” he said.

And a long book, she thought.

He held out his hand to help her down, and then, once the carriage had departed she turned to him and said, “You need not come into the building with me.”

She was quite certain Jameson would rather stay outside. The last time they’d been within earshot of the lecture he’d gone a bit green about the gills. Marian had later told her that he’d confessed that he sometimes fainted at the sight of blood.

But he shook his head. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but you can’t go in by yourself.”

“I will be just fine,” she assured him. “I know exactly where to go. And there is a bench right outside the lecture theater. I can sit quietly while I wait for Mr. Rokesby to emerge.”

Jameson did not look convinced. “I don’t think Mr. Rokesby would approve.”

“He won’t mind at all,” Georgie said, which was only a small fib. Nicholas would almost certainly prefer it if Jameson accompanied her, but he wasn’t likely to be angry if he did not.

“I will be sitting right outside the room,” Georgie continued. “If something happens, all I have to do is raise my voice, and Mr. Rokesby will come running.”

But Jameson would not be swayed, so the two of them walked into the building together. Georgie brought the large green textbook with her, thinking it might make her look as if she was meant to be there.

Obviously she wasn’t meant to be there—the University of Edinburgh accepted no female students—but maybe she’d look like someone’s assistant, or a visiting dignitary.

Still unlikely, but she felt better with the book. Academic armor, so to speak.

They walked in, and Georgie took a seat on the bench, right next to the open door to the theater. Jameson stood across the hall, but she had a feeling it wasn’t far enough away to keep him out of earshot because he started to look ill within minutes.

It wasn’t surprising. Today’s lecture topic had something to do with wound care, and the professor had just begun talking about worms.

And maggots.

Georgie wasn’t sure she understood the relevance, but that was the least of her concerns. Jameson’s skin had gone gray and pasty and he was clutching the wall. Surely he would do better outside. “Jameson,” she whispered, trying to get his attention.

He didn’t hear. Or possibly he needed to focus all of his energy on remaining upright.

“Pssst. Jameson!”

Nothing, but he swallowed a few times.

Georgie’s eyes widened. This did not look good.

“Jame—” Forget that. She stood and hurried over. “Jameson, I think you shou—”

“Urg uh blear …”

Oh, God. He was going to—

“… uharff!”

Everything—and Georgie meant everything—that was in Jameson’s stomach came out of his mouth.

She jumped back, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid it all. It hit her shoes, and probably the hem of her dress, and—Oh dear God he must have eaten fish.