A haggard woman peeked out, her blond hair pulled into a messy bun and her eyes listless with fatigue. Henrietta noted the strain around the woman’s mouth and the sunken skin beneath her eyes.
“Mrs. Smith sent me. I am Miss Gordon, a trained physician’s assistant. I’ve come to check on you.”
Jane opened the door wider but before she could speak, a deep, rattling cough shook her body.
Henrietta had heard that sound before. It came before death.
She pushed the door open. Jane finished coughing and removed the cloth from her lips. Crimson streaks stained the ivory rag. A bad sign.
Henrietta scanned the room. “Are you taking medicine for your cough?”
Jane nodded. “By the stove.”
Finding the glass bottle, Henrietta opened it and smelled it. Laudanum? “This is for your cough?”
“The doctor said it would relax my lungs.”
“And he gave you nothing else to help?”
Jane shook her head.
Sighing, Henrietta walked to a hard chair near a wall. “Please come and sit. I shall listen to your heart and lungs to determine the severity of your case.”
“Will this cost?”
“No, not at all. Ideally, you should be using a compress every day to loosen mucus. There are certain ointments to assist your breathing.” She pulled her chair near Jane. First she rapped on Jane’s chest and listened carefully. She did so several times, noting the changes in sound.
“I need to listen more closely.” She waited while Jane removed her outer garments, down to the chemise. Then she pressed her ear against the woman’s chest, over the right lung. Her skin was hot through the fabric.
Henrietta moved her head to different areas, listening intently, verifying the unfortunate prognosis.
Riles.
The rattling sound of the woman’s lungs was indicative of consumption. Anyone trained in medicine could have made the diagnosis sooner, as the cough sounded advanced. She straightened, trying hard not to show the alarm that raced through her.
Even if the apothecary did not know enough of scientific analysis, surely in his years of practicing he had seen “the white agony.” Another term for consumption. He should have referred Jane to a sanitarium, not given her a bottle of laudanum.
Because of him, Jane not only grew worse, but she had also possibly spread the disease throughout the village. Jaw tight, she helped Jane put her clothes back on. The thin, rough fabric fueled her rage.
She would have to tell Jane the news, recommend that she leave for a sanitarium and then alert the village.
* * *
Dominic studied the most recent reports on an acre of land to the south of his property devoted to corn crops. They did not seem to be faring well. He flopped his head down on the desk, closing his eyes.
The last thing he wanted was to change how his brother had run the estate. But if bad harvests kept affecting farming... He groaned. The desk was cool against his cheek.
“Ah, excuse me, my lord?” It was Jacks.
Wonderful. Time to behave like an earl again. He had no idea how Henrietta suffered through responsibility on a daily basis. He lifted his head, beckoning his valet in.
“My lord, I apologizing for disturbing you, but there seems to be a...situation that perhaps you may need to resolve.” The strain in Jacks’s voice was a bucket of cold water dumped over Dominic’s head.
He assumed a more earl-like position, which included squared shoulders and a concerned expression. Most likely they had run out of flour again. That had been an uncomfortable experience. “What is the problem?”
His valet, though, did not act as he had during that incident. In fact, he looked distinctly pained, even going so far as to pull his collar away from his neck. “In the village, my lord.”
“In the village...”
Jacks visibly swallowed. “It’s the governess. She is infuriated with the apothecary and inspecting his shop.”
Dominic shoved to his feet. “What do you mean, inspecting his shop?”
“It—it was told to me by a servant who has come from town that Miss Gordon is there. She is, well...livid. Not the behavior one expects from a governess.” A bit of starch ironed Jacks’s voice now. Servants did not like uppity servants, and though a governess ranged a bit higher than the working class, she didn’t quite make gentry. Certainly not peerage.
The censure in Jacks’s tone bothered Dominic, though he could not say why.
He rounded the desk. “Get me a horse.”
All the way to the village, he brooded. The closer he got, the more annoyed he grew. Henrietta’s interference with Old John could cause massive problems. The tendons at the back of his neck tightened with every beat of his horse’s hooves.
Inspecting.
Why would she be inspecting Old John’s store? It made no sense.
She had gone to see the other tenant. Obviously something had happened to send her into town. To gather more medicine, he presumed. But from the look on Jacks’s face, there was more to the story. More than he was willing to say in front of his employer.
Dominic dropped his horse at the livery. He stalked to Old John’s store. A crowd had gathered outside. The sun pummeled Dominic, and his stride slackened as he neared. The villagers talked amongst themselves, but when they saw him, their voices dropped to whispers. They parted, creating a path. No one addressed him, but everyone dipped into a bow or curtsy.
He offered a tight nod and moved through the path they made for him, clomped up the wooden stairs and went into the store.
More people were packed inside, though when they noticed his presence they attempted to give him space to enter. Eyes averted, the people in the room fell silent, but for one voice. One loud, distinctly feminine and condemning voice.
“You quack. You have as good as killed that woman and exposed this entire town to infection.”
“Excuse me,” he said to those around him. Unfortunately, the room was so small they could not make any more room for him. He scanned above their heads, his height a blessing.
Henrietta had not
