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“There is no need to look, you only come back here when you are feeling awful,” he replied and turned around to look me over. His hair was gone in the middle but gray on the sides; his back was slightly hunched, possibly from decades of stooping over books and pots; and his eyes, like mine, were hazel in color. “See…as I thought, awful. What happened?”
“Nothing. Can I not simply visit my family?” I asked, rolling up my sleeves to investigate what he was brewing.
“You are in dire straits then?”
“Grandfather!”
He chuckled and knocked my arm. “Very well, since you shall not share your life, share your medicine. What ails the great lords of the ton now?”
“Gout, greed, and gluttony,” said my uncle Hamish as he marched into the kitchen dressed in the same tattered waistcoat he’d worn for the last ten years. The evidence of its service were the multiple patched holes and seams throughout. We Darringtons were not a poor family, but we were by no means affluent either; my grandfather’s abilities as an apothecary and my uncle Hamish’s work as an ironworker afforded us just enough to never be in fear of starving. However, my uncle, whose faith was stronger than a clergyman’s, was known never to spend even a pence on any “finery”…it was unsightly to God, he proclaimed. He would wear a sock with several holes in it until his whole foot was able to go through it. Which made him often unrecognizable from the poorest of men in town on most days.
“I do believe greed and gluttony are similar in meaning, Uncle,” I said to him. “And not only the lords of our society are suffering from it.”
“Only they can afford to suffer from it, for everyone else is suffering from hunger,” he huffed at me, and before I could say another word he turned to my grandfather. “How many times must I tell your grandfather to stop brewing these horrid potions in the kitchen during dinner?”
I could feel myself growing irritated. “These are medicines, Uncle, not potions. He is not a witch.”
“The only true medicine in this world is the word of God. Or have you forgotten that while you run around the feet of those people?” he snapped at me bitterly, so disgusted his face bunched. “I have not seen you come to church in quite some time. Do you even go to church at all anymore or have you found a golden calf?”
“Hamish, enough! He has only just returned home,” my grandfather yelled at him, and I felt the urge to tell him to relax and not worry himself. I had long since become accustomed to this. It was why I preferred the inn.
“I believe church should edify the soul not condemn it,” I said to him.
“Like always you wish to be told sweet words, Theodore, and believe in the good of this world,” he grumbled, shaking his head at me. “While your great and noble friends feast on lavish banquets over on their side of town, children cry out in the streets on this side. They are all greedy, foul, devilish—”
“Judgment is for the lord,” I voiced loudly, looking at him with a smile. “Is it not, Uncle? You do not know them all as they do not know you. With that, I bid you both a good evening.”
I glanced back over to my grandfather, whose shoulders were low and his face grim. He was old, he did not wish to fight, he did not wish to argue, he simply wished to study medicines and eat pie with a side of ale. Walking over to him, I placed my hand on his shoulder.
“I shall visit again—”
“You are soaking wet. At the very least stay and change, have supper,” he said to me, but I’d much rather suffer the bitter cold of my clothes and risk fever than remain with my uncle.
“Grandfather, I—”
“If he wants to go let him go!” my uncle snapped. “Maybe you can try seeing if any of your so-called medicine works out there. For those people…our people.”
I clenched my jaw but said nothing more, taking my things before heading to the door, slamming it behind me. I stood there for a long moment before exhaling and marching back up the stairs…
It was strange. No matter where I was, whether on the west side or the east, my presence was still not welcome.
10
Verity
I did not have a nightmare, as I had not slept. Instead, I found myself pondering over birds…and him: Dr. Theodore Darrington. Maybe it was this lack of sleep and the stillness of the night that brought forth such clarity. I had asked myself over and over again why my mind was stuck on him. Why did thinking of him leave such a strange feeling coursing through my chest? Why did I wish to see him even now? I simply had to imagine it was someone else asking me these questions. My brother, Hathor even. And in doing so came my answer.
