Page 9 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

Gabriel reached into his satchel and withdrew several small, brown paper packets. “Take one of these powders in a little hot water morning and night for as long as you feel feverish.”

“Doctor, I can’t take those.”

He held out the packets. “I insist.”

“You’re too good, Doctor Sharpe. You’ll never make any money if you keep treating people for free.”

“I have plenty of well-to-do patients who send for me whenever they have a slight ache, and I can charge them anything I wish.”

“Mr Jackson won’t like me taking charity.”

“It is not charity. When I return tomorrow, I will bring several shirts that need repairing and stockings that need darning.”

Relief flooded the woman’s face. “God bless you, Doctor Sharpe.”

“Good day, Mrs Jackson.”

Gabriel collected his bag and headed down the dusty path back to the centre of the village.

A group of women halted their conversation when he approached.

He nodded. “Good day, ladies.”

“Good day, Doctor Sharpe.” They sang in unison before bending their heads together once again.

The bell over the door of the apothecary shop tinkled when he entered. Another group of ladies gathered before the counter. Their chatter silenced before they faced him, all with pitying glances.

“Good day, how can I help you this morning?”

“We just came to see your mother about something.”

Mother stood behind the apothecary counter and offered him a weak smile. His wishes regarding gossiping in the shop clearly unheeded.

Mr Sykes rose from one of the spindle-legged chairs that lined the far wall.

The man fiddled with the felt cap in his hand. “I need a boil lancing, but I was hoping your father would be in today.”

“My father is working in the fields.”

“I’ll come back when he’s here.”

“I am a trained physician, Mr Sykes. I can lance a boil.”

“Aye, but I don’t want you examining me for anything else. I’m hale and hearty, I am.”

“Of course, Mr Sykes.” When would the villagers stop suspecting him of finding things wrong with them on purpose? “I will not treat you for anything else. Where is this boil?”

The man glanced towards the counter, then whispered, “I’d rather not discuss it in the presence of ladies.”

“Then come next door, and I will examine you.”

A woman mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. “You can examine me any time, Doctor.”

The door clicked shut, muffling the ensuing chuckles.

He would have words with Mother, again. Hopefully, they would be gone by the time he finished treating his patient. Unfortunately, when he opened the door to see Mr Sykes out, the women remained.

“If it’s her, she’s taken her time to visit.”