AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thank you, I am well able to carry it myself.” This was more than she had hoped for from their first meeting in situ, as it were, so she made her way out of the grove.
“I remember it is the act of a gentleman.” His voice sounded the roughest it had yet. “To make an offer of aid.”
If it were not in poor taste, I would say you put your leg in that trap, Your Grace!“I am here to offer you aid, though I am no gentleman. You are aware it is my purpose at Lowell Hall, and yet this is the first time we have spoken.”
“The second.” That should not thrill her as it did, that he remembered the night at Arcadia.
“I must be honest with you, Your Grace.” She shifted the trug up to her elbow; it ought not to feel any heavier than usual, but now that she had the image in her mind’s eye of a duke carrying it for her, it very much did. “I don’t know what I can do in aid of your difficulty. You are a source of worry to those near and dear to you, and my usual approach to healing matters is not useful in this instance.
“You may or may not speak of your experience as you see fit. I suspect, at this stage, speaking of it will reinforce the pain.” She headed down the path that would lead her back to the cottage; he tracked her on the right. “However, I feel I must earn my place here, and unfortunately you are my means to do so.”
“Shall we make a trade?” He prowled out of the underbrush and stood before her.
The sun had almost fully risen, and its light flooded the canopy overhead, limning him in gold. No matter his rough clothing, he looked like a fallen angel frescoed on the wall of an Italian church.
“Shall we? That is an unexpected proposition, Your Grace. What in the world have I to offer other than my tinctures and tonics, of which you seem reluctant to avail?”
A glint lit his eye. As for her, an old impulse stirred within, a carefree pleasure. “You have yet to attend the Sunday Meal,” he said.
She could hear the capital letters implied. The duchess had been relentless in her pursuit of the Barringtons’ company at this auspicious event. “My brother and I will attend this week.”
“If it is true what you say, that I ought to be allowed to speak when I wish and not when I do not wish to, then I ask you to intervene.”
“To draw attention from you?” Hmmm. “That does not sound onerous.”
“Have we a bargain?”
“With my payment to be as I see fit?”
The duke nodded, and Tabitha extended her hand. He retreated, and she dropped her arm. Was a handshake too masculine a gesture? It wouldn’t be the first time she’d made that mistake.
“Very well.” She switched her trug to her unshaken hand. “This is much like a deal I would strike with my brother,” she said.
Llewellyn’s nostrils quivered. “I am not your brother.”
“I am well aware—” And in a heartbeat, he was gone.
Three
Since she and Timothy had moved to Lowell Hall, great effort had been made to accommodate them and ensure their comfort. Timothy had overseen the refurbishment of the schoolroom in the Hall proper, as well as fulfilling the duchess’s desire for one belowstairs. Tabitha’s brother, egalitarian in his values when it came to education, leaped upon this opportunity like a spring hare.
As for Tabitha, Felicity assigned a fleet of Lowell Hall footmen the task of turning the former smokehouse, mere steps from the kitchen door of the cottage, into a stillroom. It was very impressive: the large hearth previously used for preparing meats now bristled with a series of swinging arms and pots for use over the open fire; tall oaken cases fronted by glass doors hosted a plethora of empty jars waiting for herbs and potions and extractions. It was very nearly wasted on her, as out of necessity she had condensed her medicinal needs to fit compactly into her portable carryall. Fashioned out of leather and canvas, with a variety of pockets inside and out, it served as a harvesting trug and an apothecary case. It was her most prized possession, one she’d designed with a cobbler, of all things, in Paris, of all places. She had everything necessary at hand, always, and no real need for anything else.
What would she do with all this room?
Tabitha set down her case on the high table in the center of the…the healing shed. Let it be known as thehealing shed. “This abundance is not—oh.” The stray cat that had adopted them in southern Italy was, of course, still abroad. Tabitha hadn’t intended it to attach to her, but it had and became a feature around her ankles and on her appointments. Timothy had playfully called the creature her familiar and exhorted her to smuggle it back to England with them, but she would not do that to an innocent animal. Bad enough one of them was being transported against their will.
“Oh, dear me, Tabitha Barrington, that is a dramatic thought.” If she had no Italian cat to talk to, she would talk to herself. There must becatcats about the place; she might find a new audience soon enough.
Absent Italian felines notwithstanding, all these accouterments were poorly timed riches. It wasn’t merely to do with her spartan way of working but also due to the fact she wasn’t sure she wanted to continue down this road.
How invigorating it had been, building upon the skills she’d learned from Father’s housekeeper. How satisfying as she and Timothy had made their way across the Continent, from France to the Netherlands to Spain to Italy to Greece, learning about local cures and emollients. No matter how few or how many days they spent in one place, there was always something new to learn and discover.
She had a repertoire of cures for common and not-so-common ills and the advantage, in the expatriate community they inevitably found in each place, of not being a foreigner even if she was a woman. Only grudgingly calling herself an apothecary and never calling herself a doctor, she had framed herself as a palliative vendor. During their time in Greece, Timothy had insisted she refer to herself as a Hygieist, in honor of their goddess of health. Try as he might, and to her relief, it did not take. In Italy, he had attempted to coinTrotist, based on the fame of an ancient female doctor who instructed men, but she had put her foot down, not wishing to find herself lashed to a stake in thepiazza. Her skills often outpaced the common knowledge of the day, and the last thing she needed was to make even more of a spectacle of herself than she already was.
Tabitha sat on the stool that suited the height of the table. The enormous window faced north; in the summer she would be able to work well into the evening…if it was called for. As a rule, she had toiled every hour God sent but suspected that her days would be more her own than they had been her whole life. The time now afforded her would be welcome if she was to establish her practice in this new place.
She emptied her trug of the morning’s forage, setting aside the foxglove with care, and headed for the cottage, yet another embarrassment of riches. It was two stories, and they each had their own bedroom, so no more sleeping on sofas for Timothy. The ground floor was one massive open space with a large, fully stocked kitchen that expanded into a lean-to; she could admire her brother’s command of it from a table that optimistically seated eight. It was not on the level of the grandeur of the Hall, and they had both refused the cadre of servants Felicity was willing to assign them, but even so it was more than they’d had for years.
