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The town had pulled together to create a lovely feast for the celebration of Midsummer’s Eve. Tables lined the churchyard overladen with plates heaping with rolls, pasties, berries, and puddings. People milled about while children laughed and ran down the street. There was a general feeling of cheerfulness about the churchyard that warred with the discontent heavily settled on Amelia’s chest.
She stepped around a group of children bundling flowers into wreaths for their hair and found Hattie and Giulia seated on a bench under the green branches of a hawthorn tree.
“Oh good, you’ve made it!” Hattie said, sliding closer to Giulia to make room on the bench.
Amelia sat, smoothing her gown over her knees and clasping her hands in her lap. The shade offered sweet relief from the sun, though the heat was beginning to soften as they rolled into evening. She admired the general splendor of the churchyard but could not find it in herself to join in. The merriment around her did nothing but heighten her guilt for having left Mrs. Halpert behind. This was likely why it was a good thing Andrew was the doctor and not she. She could not remove their patient from her mind long enough to enjoy the town coming together to celebrate the beginning of summer.
She was faintly aware of Giulia and Hattie discussing the pasties they’d eaten, but her gaze tripped over the crowd, searching for her brother. She found him standing beside the church, his arms crossed over his chest as a comfortable smile sat on his lips. How could the man be so relaxed when a woman under his care was in such discomfort?
Andrew laughed at something, and Amelia’s hands clenched tightly together on her lap. The group standing between them shifted, and she looked to see who her brother was speaking to. Her heart stuttered, taking in Charles’s radiant grin. Why must he be everywhere? And what had he said to amuse Andrew so deeply?
She’d never known him to be funny, but clearly, Andrew thought he was. Had she misjudged Charles’s capacity for humor? Andrew laughed again and she frowned. Well, clearly the fault lay within her somehow.
“Amelia?”
She pulled her glare from Charles, batting away the interest taking root in her mind. This was not good. She needed to squash those unwelcome thoughts before they had a chance to grow. “Hmm?”
Hattie’s head tilted to the side. “How long have you been wool-gathering? I need to know how much I should repeat.”
“We are discussing very important things,” Giulia added, her eyes sparkling. “Like Cunning Folk and curses and—”
“Curses?” Amelia asked, turning sharply. “What curses?”
Her friends blinked back at her. Giulia laughed awkwardly, her hand absently rubbing her rounded belly. “None that we know of. Hattie only mentioned that the Cunning Woman at the edge of town could curse Mr. Ward if he continues to eat all the pasties before you’ve had a chance to eat one.”
“You are quite enamored by this Cunning Woman, aren’t you, Hattie?” Amelia chuckled, the sound strained. Perhaps if she continued on as though she had not just had an outburst, her friends would ignore it as well. “I am not hungry. Mr. Ward is welcome to all the pasties he’d like.”
“I’m certainly not enamored by the woman,” Hattie said, her playful tone defensive. “But I did hear from my maid that Mrs. Briggs lost a pocket watch that was very dear to her, and Mrs. Fowler was able to help her find it. Either way, I fear Mrs. Fowler can only produce white magic. We shall have to go elsewhere for our curses.”
“I am certain Mrs. Fowler cannot produce any magic,” Amelia countered, trying to soften her words with a smile.
Hattie did not look convinced, her freckled nose wrinkling in thought. “I suppose we shall see tonight, shan’t we?”
“For now, though, I should like another pasty. This baby is determined to double my size before her arrival.” Giulia turned to Amelia. “How is Mrs. Halpert faring?”
“Not well. She has lived in my house for a week now but only seems to be growing worse.”
A frown appeared on Giulia’s brow. “Perhaps your brother should consult Mrs. Fowler.”
Amelia’s lips flattened into a thin line. “You know I do not subscribe to magic, and I am certain Andrew’s training is more than sufficient—”
Giulia shook her head, placing a staying hand on Amelia’s arm. “Mrs. Fowler is also a midwife.”
“Oh.” Amelia deflated as though the wind which had previously been buoying her up died at once. She looked for her brother again in the crowd, surprised to find him crossing toward her, Charles just behind him.
“Good evening, ladies,” Andrew said, bowing to Amelia’s friends. Charles did the same. “We’ve come to ask if you would like to accompany us to the back garden. They plan to light the bonfire soon.”
Amelia stood, eager to leave behind the conversation about curses and white magic. “Yes.”
Hattie and Giulia rose, and the group weaved through the familiar parish families, skirting the churchyard to gather in the large field behind the tall, whitewashed stone building. Charles fell in step at the back of the group, and Amelia slowed her gait, walking alongside him.
“Good evening, Mr. Fremont.”
His eyes registered momentary surprise before he shuttered them again. Tipping his head to her, he clasped his hands loosely behind his back, his arms straining against the dark gray coat he wore. “Is Mrs. Halpert settled in at Falbrooke?”
She gave a rueful laugh. “She is likely more settled than I am at present.”
Charles turned, his eyebrows drawn. “Do you imply that she is more at home than she ought to be, or that you are less so?”
