Page 40 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

The ticking of the long-case clock grated on her ears.

Breaking the incessant quiet, Mrs Sharpe said, “I must ask, why did you leave?”

She twiddled with the strings of her reticule. Like a naïve fool, she had believed she could avoid an interrogation.

“You succumbed to your mother’s wishes, didn’t you?”

Blythe’s insides withered. It was the truth, but not the whole truth. “Yes.”

“Your mother always had grand ideas when it came to you. As soon as you were born, she crowed about how you were destined for a life of luxury.” Mrs Sharpe adopted a mocking, high-pitched tone. “Why else would the Lord have made her such a beautiful child, if not to use it to her advantage?” The woman grimaced. “Your mother always thought she was better than the rest of us, being the old squire’s granddaughter.”

Everyone knew her mother well. But she was still her mother, and Blythe would not speak ill of her before others or allow them to do so either. “My mother wanted only the best for me.”

“That may be true, but I never believed you capable of such fickleness. You were a young woman who knew her own mind. You, like me, saw this as your calling. You were a quick learner, keen to know everything and you absorbed it all like a sponge.” Mrs Sharpe leaned into the counter. “I gave you the hardest tasks, and you set to them with enthusiasm. By the time you were sixteen, you’d already helped me with the birth of several babies, and you were good at it. You’re a natural at caring for others in the face of death, and death is hard on our heels in this profession.”

“As I am well aware.” Her failure to save James Farrer still stung.

“Then why did you give it up? Something tells me there’s more to this sorry tale.”

“As you said, Mrs Sharpe, I allowed my head to be turned by a different life.”

Her eyes narrowed. The woman was too astute, just like her son. She could not do this. They would not let it rest, and if they learned the truth… “Forgive me. I apologise for my disrespectful actions, and I offer my best wishes for you and your family.”

Blythe headed for the door. She would have to return to York.

“Wait!”

Blythe turned on her heel.

Mrs Sharpe walked around the counter. “Is there nothing else you wish to ask?”

“I only wanted to apologise for breaking our agreement.” If her apology had been accepted, then perhaps she could have begun to re-build bridges with her former teacher.

“Do you not want to resume your apprenticeship?”

“Yes, but I understand why you do not want to train me, so I must find another teacher.” Blythe raised her chin. “I will continue my training because a healer is not just what I am, but who I am. I feel it to the marrow of my bones, and nothing and no one will stop me again.”

“You put together some fine words these days. But how do I know you mean them? How do I know that you won’t allow your mother to influence you again?”

Blythe swallowed. “Questioning my motives is understandable. I have broken your trust. I was a coward, and I allowed my mother to turn my head from what I knew was right. I should have trusted my instincts.” Her vision blurred, but she blinked back the tears. “I should have trusted Gabriel and what we had. Instead, I betrayed you both, and I endured the consequences of that betrayal.” Blythe held her mentor’s gaze. “But I am no longer a weak-minded girl. I am a grown woman and a mother. I want my children to see that I am more than an insipid wife and socialite. I will do this, whether you teach me or not.”

The soft ticking of the clock marked the infernal passage of time.

Finally, Mrs Sharpe said, “Very well, I shall resume your training.”

Blythe’s knees almost gave way.

“Close your mouth, dear. I thought you had adopted the manners of a lady these days.”

Blythe snapped her jaw shut.

“I have one condition.” Mrs Sharpe’s perceptive gaze bored into her.

Oh, no!

“You must tell Gabriel the truth about why you jilted him.”

A lump formed in her throat. “Please… do not ask that of me.”