Chapter 7
“You left Dr. Whitaker at the Polkinghornes, Linette?”
“He had his horse. Samson, I think he called him. He’d tethered him to trot behind the carriage, so I had the footman tie him to the gate.” Feeling a bit chagrined under Estelle’s stunned scrutiny, Linette drew her yellow paisley shawl more tightly around her and lifted her chin. “What was I to do? Sit there in the cold with Prudie and wait while he gossiped with Mrs. Polkinghorne? He told her that he had all the time in the world, but I certainly did not. Donovan asked that I help him and I did, and then I came home.”
Estelle leaned back against her pillows, shaking her head. “You must not like Dr. Whitaker at all…either that, or you like him more than you’d ever admit—”
“Enough, Estelle, finish your breakfast! I brought it to you instead of Miss Biddle so I might sit with you a while. Would you like me to leave?”
Estelle shook her head, though she still studied Linette closely as she took a bite of toast. Linette ignored her and shifted in her chair to look out the window at the drizzly day, so different than yesterday, and rubbed her temple.
She knew she was as out of sorts as Estelle must think her, because she never snapped at her younger sister. She’d been out of sorts since she’d come home near dusk last night, and rushed into the library to report to Donovan that Dr. Whitaker and Rose Polkinghorne appeared to have sorted out their differences quite nicely, only to find that her brother-in-law hadn’t yet returned from Porthleven.
She’d had no stomach for supper, so she’d run past the dining room where Corie had been occupied with the younger children, and gone straight to her room.
All she’d wanted to do was change into her nightgown and climb into bed and pull the covers over her head.
To shut her eyes tight and go to sleep early so she could forget Mrs. Polkinghorne’s dreadful speculative look when Linette’s gloved fingers had brushed against Adam’s and she’d gasped in surprise.
Not so much because they had touched unexpectedly, but because of the delicious shiver that had shot through her…just like when she’d accepted his assistance from the carriage and taken his hand.
Oh, Lord. Adam.
She didn’t want to think of him as Adam, but Dr. Whitaker! The day would never come when she would call him by his given name, so why even think it?
“Linette, I think Dr. Whitaker is very nice…and he was so kind to me about Luther. Don’t you remember?”
Sighing heavily, Linette turned back to Estelle, at once pricked by guilt when she saw her sister looking so pensive. “Of course I remember,” she murmured, a sudden welling of emotion in her chest.
Adam had been so compassionate toward Estelle, so understanding…and truly, he hadn’t been anything but kind to her as well.
Yes, he’d teased her in the carriage…and stared at her overmuch, and paid her far too bold of a compliment that secretly, had thrilled her, but was all of that so terrible as to make her feel like she never wanted to see him or speak to him again? Oh, why wasn’t she leaving for London tomorrow instead of three months away?
Luther’s sudden whimpering pulled Linette abruptly out of her thoughts. The little dog snuggled against Estelle, who had plopped down on her pillows and stared sadly at the ceiling.
“Estelle, are you feeling all right? Should I call for Corie?”
“I’m never going to see Prince Valentin again, am I?”
For a moment, Linette didn’t know what to say, but then she leaned forward in her chair and took Estelle’s hand. “Sweet, you know Donovan told us last night that we mustn’t speak his name…or anything else about what you overheard that day—”
“Yes, but I would have liked to thank him!”
Estelle’s plaintive cry cut Linette to the quick. She didn’t understand it all, either, from what little Donovan had told them when he’d gathered her, Corie, and Miss Biddle in Estelle’s room last night as soon as he’d returned home.
All he’d said was that they must trust him…for their sakes and that of the two strangers who had sailed away that very night, and not speak of them to anyone from that moment onward. Not to each other, nor to any of the household, and especially not to anyone outside of their family.
Miss Biddle had received stark instructions from Donovan as well, to bid the staff to silence about anything they might have heard or risk losing their positions, his uncharacteristic warning attesting to its gravity.
Even now Linette felt a chill at the memory of Donovan’s forbidding voice; she had not heard him speak so grimly since she, Marguerite, and Estelle had been rescued from their cruel abductors six years ago in Roscoff, Brittany. She imagined Adam would receive the same blunt warning, too, when he came that afternoon to check on Estelle’s progress—
“Dr. Whitaker!” Linette blurted aloud, Estelle raising herself on her elbows to stare at her in surprise. To cover for her strange behavior, as disconcerted herself by her outburst, she spoke as sternly as she could muster to her sister. “I understand how you feel, truly, but you promised Donovan that you’d abide by his demand, yes? To trust him that he was doing what was best for all of us?”
Relief coursed through Linette as Estelle bobbed her head. “Good. Now no more talk of—”
Linette bit her tongue, catching herself in time just as a knock came at the door, followed by Miss Biddle’s no-nonsense voice.
“Dr. Whitaker is here early today to see you, Estelle. May we enter?”
Linette’s sharp gasp made Estelle stare at her curiously again, while Linette wished she could magically disappear. Instead she rose from the chair, her spine ramrod straight, adjusting her shawl over her white sprigged muslin gown as she went to open the door.
Adam seemed as surprised to see her, but he recovered to smile warmly at her.
“Good morning, Dr. Whitaker.”
“Miss Easton. I believe Miss Biddle was going to seek you out next—”
“Yes, I was,” the housekeeper said briskly. “His Grace asked that you accompany the doctor to visit some of the tinners’ families today…with Prudie, of course. He suggested you go by Arundale’s Kitchen, too, so he can see the mine. His Grace believes it would be a great help for you to introduce him to as many of our folk as possible.”
“Yes, I can’t offer you my gratitude enough for easing my way with Mrs. Polkinghorne. Delightful woman, though she kept me rather late. I’m not surprised you decided to head home and leave poor Samson tangled in the gate.”
“Tangled?” Horrified, Linette pressed her hand to her throat. “Oh, dear, I asked the footman to tie him there. I’m so sorry…”
She fell silent, heat burning her cheeks at the teasing in Adam’s hazel eyes, while Estelle’s giggling from the bed propelled her stiffly from the room without another word.
***
“I must remember not to tease you, Miss Easton, no, never again. Were you a serious child?”
“I’ve been told so.” Linette sighed inwardly, resigning herself to making the best of a day that promised to be a long one, and which included conversing with Dr. Adam Whitaker. Yet that didn’t mean she would make the same mistake of accepting his assistance out of the carriage or touching his fingers again, oh no! Nor had she worn the blue pelisse that he’d so favored yesterday, but a plain gray coat and matching bonnet she hoped he would find quite dull. “I spent a good deal of time alone—well, as much as one can be alone in a parsonage full of sisters, and read a lot of books—”
“Ah, then, that explains it.”
She bristled, straightening her back against the seat opposite him. “Explains what, sir?”
“Why you’re so serious all the time. I’ve so rarely seen you smile…and I’ve never heard you laugh. Does she ever laugh, Prudie?”
The young maidservant gasped from her corner of the carriage, clearly astonished that the doctor would have drawn her into the conversation. “Y-yes, sir. She and Miss Estelle laugh all the time—”
“Though hardly of late, given what happened to my sister,” Linette broke in, feeling rather disgruntled that Adam would think her so lacking in humor. “What of you, Dr. Whitaker? Given your fondness for teasing me, I doubt you were ever a serious child—oh, dear, forgive me.”
He’d sobered so suddenly, the lightness in his eyes fading, that Linette recognized at once her mistake. “That was so thoughtless of me. Of course you must have been serious. You said you were an orphan—”
“Not entirely true, I must admit,” he said quietly, holding her gaze. “I have an uncle, my late mother’s brother. She died when I was seventeen, and my father might as well be moldering in his grave, as far as I’m concerned. The man is dead to me.”
Linette stared back at him, not knowing what to say, she felt so stunned. Never would she have imagined Adam sharing something so personal with her, which undeniably touched her.
“Was it an illness? Your mother?”
“No, something worse. A cruel and merciless existence, thanks to my father. I loved her, but I couldn’t save her. She died of a broken heart.”
Again Linette stared at Adam, struck dumb as surely as before, her breath stilled.
To think he had suffered such pain! Never in her life had she felt so wretched as she did now when she thought of how unkindly she’d treated him yesterday: Her refusal to speak to him in the carriage, her leaving him at Mrs. Polkinghorne’s without the courtesy of a goodbye, her fighting so hard not to like him though she realized she was growing to like him very much…
“I’m so sorry, Adam—I-I mean, Dr. Whitaker.”
Her gloved fingers flown to her lips, Linette saw the darkening of Adam’s eyes as surely as it appeared that he’d grown very still now, too.
Strange that the clattering of the carriage wheels sounded suddenly so deafening to her, but no more so than her heartbeat thundering in her ears.
Oh, no, now she’d gone too far! Called the man by his given name though she’d known him mere days…and he wasn’t even a relative or her betrothed or her husband!
“Oh, Lord.” Completely undone by her racing thoughts, Linette ignored Prudie’s stunned look and focused her attention out the window streaked with rain…anything to divert her until she regained her composure. Yet she might have been blind for all she noted of the scenery passing by them, until a sudden hard jolt from the bumpy road made her nearly slip from the seat.
She cried out at the same moment Adam caught her around the waist, his hands strong and sure as he righted her…and did not readily let her go.
“Are you all right?”
“Y-yes, thank you.” Blushing to her roots, Linette found herself not wanting him to let her go, his closeness stirring something in her unlike anything she had ever known. The masculine warmth of his scent, citrus and sandalwood, so familiar to her now, enveloped her and sent a shiver streaking to her toes.
“The tinners’ cottages, Miss Easton. We’re here. Miss Easton…did you hear me?”
“Yes, Prudie, I heard you.” Stricken with embarrassment at what her appointed chaperone must be thinking, Linette shifted to extricate herself from Adam’s grasp. He released her at once, glancing at Prudie with an apologetic smile, and retook his seat. Yet only for a moment as the carriage rolled to a jerky stop.
Again Linette felt herself jounced upon the seat, but this time she braced herself with splayed fingers…and Adam didn’t jump up to help her. Not with Prudie watching their every move. Instead he focused upon the door, but Prudie got there first and waited for the footman to jump down from the back of the carriage to assist them.
Waited for the footman to offer his hand to Linette so she might carefully descend the damp steps, followed right behind by Prudie, and then an oddly determined-looking Adam bringing up the rear.
It all seemed a bit awkward, but clearly the maidservant was taking her role more seriously after what she’d seen transpire between Linette and Adam in the carriage. Linette wondered with some nervousness if Prudie planned to report their unintended indiscretions to Donovan…
“It’s muddy here, Miss Easton, if you’d allow me…”
Linette glanced up in surprise at Adam, who offered her his arm, yet in truth, there was no harm in him assisting her as any gallant gentleman might do. She smiled her assent at him and looped her arm through his, and then gasped a little when he drew her closer.
“It’s quite slick. I don’t want you to fall.”
With Prudie heaving a sigh and falling into step behind them, they made their way toward a row of whitewashed cottages not as large as those in Porthleven, but in just as good repair. Already front doors had opened a few inches to reveal the curious faces of wives and children of the tinners that toiled in the depths of Arundale’s Kitchen, the tin ore mine owned by Donovan.
“Their lives were truly wretched before my brother-in-law came to Cornwall,” Linette said in a soft aside to Adam. “Corrupt mine captains, a pittance for wages, and dirt-floor hovels where these cottages now stand. Corie did everything she could to help the tinners and their families, but it was together that she and Donovan were truly able to make a lasting difference.”
“So it should be,” Adam murmured back to her, nodding his head in greeting to still more shawl-clad women cracking open their doors or the shutters of windows. “A husband and wife working together to make things better for those less fortunate than themselves. There’s so much more to life than title and wealth and wasting one’s days in pursuit of every vulgar diversion known to man…”
Adam fell silent as they approached one of the cottages, while Linette couldn’t help but wonder if the marked bitterness she’d heard in his voice might have something to do with his father. Yet she didn’t have another moment to dwell upon it when a small dark-haired boy in a doorway, clinging to his mother’s skirt, was suddenly seized by a violent cough.
“Has he been like that for long?” Adam asked the woman, whose anxious gaze jumped from him to Linette.
“He’s our new physician…Dr. Whitaker,” she explained, and immediately the woman gestured for them to enter her home. The day was so gray and dreary that the cheery hearth fire inside was a welcome sight to Linette, though they’d had foot warmers and fur blankets in the carriage. She’d no sooner sat down on the chair the woman offered first her and then another one for Prudie, when Adam hoisted the little boy onto a worn table to examine him.
But not first without speaking kindly to him and ruffling the child’s hair, which made the boy smile though he immediately was seized with another fit of coughing.
“Ma’am, it would help me if you told me how long—”
“Forgive me, sir,” the young woman broke in, swiping wisps of brown hair from her worried face. “I’m Mrs. Tate, an’ that’s my son, Cory. I’d say two days, no more.”
“That’s good to hear,” Adam murmured, then he glanced at Linette. “I must fetch my bag. This might take a while. If one child has croup, others may have it as well. I’d like to examine all the children here.” He looked back at Mrs. Tate. “Might Miss Easton sit here with you where it’s warm?”
“Ais, of course, I’m honored to have her here! It was her lovely sister—I hope you don’t mind me talkin’ so familiar, Miss Easton. But the duchess herself came with the midwife to help me bring my Cory into the world four years past, so ‘ee see how I named him.”
Mrs. Tate gazed so proudly at her son that Linette prayed Adam would be able to help him; thankfully, from his calm demeanor as he left the cottage for his bag, he didn’t appear overly concerned.
Just thoughtful and caring as he’d set both Mrs. Tate and young Cory at ease, making Linette feel warmer inside as she’d watched him go about his work than any crackling hearth fire.