Page 5 of Bernadette’s Dashing Doctor (The Bookshop Belles #4)

CHAPTER 5

Making The Best Of It

L ouise was so glum and mopey Bernadette wanted to scream. She was sure customers were avoiding coming into the bookshop because of Louise’s miserable face behind the counter. Their sister Marie had been exactly the same before the Earl of Renwick had come to his senses, realised he was in love with her and swept her off to be his countess and live in his Cumbria castle.

If this was what love did to a person, Bernadette was quite sure she didn’t want any part of it.

At least Marie had known that Renwick was all right. Louise had no such assurances about Shaun Jackson. The news coming out of France was quite terrifying, Napoleon having amassed a vast army in an alarmingly short span of time.

“Why did he have to go?” Louise sobbed into her hands one morning at breakfast. “One man isn’t going to make any difference and I - we - need him here!”

Bernadette patted Louise’s shoulder, sharing a despairing look with Mrs Poole. Both of them felt quite helpless. Not to mention the fact that Bernadette was growing more afraid for their father’s welfare with every passing day; Matthew Baxter was somewhere in France too, almost certainly behind enemy lines. Though he could speak the language perfectly and hopefully pass for a local, his life must be in constant danger. Bernadette refused to even think of the alternative.

“Why don’t you stay upstairs today?” Mrs Poole suggested kindly.

“Someone has to mind the counter,” Louise sniffled.

“I can do it,” Bernadette said stoutly. She was less busy since Dr Williams had come to town; people were beginning to send for him for major injuries and illnesses at least, and folks with minor complaints would know where to find Bernadette. “You stay upstairs and just rest. I know you’re not sleeping well.”

Louise lowered her hands and looked at Bernadette from reddened eyes, before nodding.

“And tonight, I’m going to give you a tea before bed and you’re to jolly well drink it,” Bernadette added firmly.

“All right,” Louise conceded quietly.

“And you’re going to eat this breakfast, too!” Mrs Poole added, pushing the plate of buttered crumpets under Louise’s nose.

Louise picked up a crumpet and nibbled at the edge, and Mrs Poole and Bernadette exchanged another worried look. It was awful to see Louise, normally so strong and determined, being meek and miserable like this.

Bernadette just hoped that Cousin Joshua didn’t come into the shop today. She wasn’t nearly as good at shutting him up as Louise. Well, if he did, she’d just have to put on her big girl boots, stomp her feet and tell him she wasn’t putting up with his nonsense. She should see where the crowbar was, on the off chance she might need it.

Letting Rosie in, she turned the Closed sign on the door around to Open, checked Crafty’s scratching pad and looked at the usual pile of mouse entrails behind the counter with a grimace of disgust.

The doorbell tinkled as her young cousin Brutus came in, and Bernadette looked around at him hopefully. He saw what she was looking at.

“Let me get that,” he said obligingly, fetching the dustpan and rags.

He was a good boy, Brutus, despite his awful parents. Bernadette could not understand how Joshua and Phoebe had managed to produce him… or perhaps it was simply because they ignored him, Joshua favouring his eldest son Benjamin, a ghastly bully, while Phoebe doted on little Barnaby.

The bell chimed again to announce the arrival of Ruth Millings. Ruth seemed to view the shop as her escape from a very strict home life. Her father didn’t even allow Ruth to receive pay for her work; they had to put the money in the collection plate at church on Sundays, which had felt particularly galling last Sunday when the vicar had been so utterly nasty in his sermon.

“Good morning, Bernadette,” Ruth said quietly.

“Good morning, Ruth. Louise isn’t feeling very well today so I’ll be here at the counter. If I have to run out for anything, do you think you and Brutus could manage the shop for a little while? Louise is just upstairs if you need help, and so is Mrs Poole, of course.”

Ruth gulped, but nodded bravely. She did seem to be getting past the worst of her shyness; for the first few weeks in the shop she’d barely even been able to look Bernadette in the eye, never mind any customers!

A lad came into the shop but didn’t want to acknowledge Bernadette when she gave him a cheery, “Welcome to Baxter's Fine Books, let me know if I can assist.”

That had her on alert immediately. It did not surprise her that he made a bee-line to Ruth at the counter. The child was incredibly beautiful, and in several years when she became interested in courting, she would have young men falling at her feet.

But at the moment she was only a child, and she sat there mutely, looking rather scared.

“I like books,” the new customer said, “Could I get one please?”

This was not the sort of thing people asked when they came in. If they were new to the town, they often walked in with a smile and mentioned the type of books they liked. Nobody simply “liked books.” Not all of them. Even Louise had grown tired of Shakespeare.

Ruth’s pleading eyes found Bernadette’s.

Bernadette recognised him and intercepted. “It’s Young Devon, isn't it? From the apothecary?”

He finally acknowledged someone else in the shop at this point, which was a relief. “Yes, Miss, but you can just call me Devon.”

Bernadette had no idea if that was his Christian name or his family name, but it made no difference. Giving him the benefit of the doubt – perhaps he was merely awkward – she figured he could start with the lending shelves and try a couple of books for the short term. “Well, Devon, you may join our lending library, then you can borrow books and return them. Let me show you where they are.”

As she led the boy away, she cast a glance back to a very relieved Ruth Millings.

She explained how the lending library worked, and the fees per month.

Barely five minutes later, another young lad came into the shop and appeared to wander about. Bernadette was still with Devon who didn’t seem to know what sort of books he liked. “Take your time,” Bernadette said, “I’ll be back in a moment.” Then she called out to Brutus to come and help Devon while she headed back to rescue a terrified Ruth.

She hadn’t seen this lad in her shop in a long time. He might have come in with his mother at some point when she ordered a fashion periodical, but she hadn’t seen him in here by himself. “Good morning, Master Burton,” Bernadette said, recognising him as the solicitor’s son.

The boy nodded, but his eyes never strayed far from Ruth.

As much as she was delighted that they had two new customers this day, Bernadette found her “benefit of the doubt” reserves drying out. The lad was virtually drooling at Ruth; far more interested in her than any books.

“You’ll want to be joining our lending library as well, won’t you?”

“What?” the boy asked.

A quick clear of her throat and Bernadette informed him of the monthly fees for the lending library. Then she guided him toward those shelves as well, which would block his view of Ruth.

He and Devon eyed each other suspiciously but didn’t say anything. An uneasy feeling spread through Bernadette and she knew she could not leave Ruth in charge of the shop while she headed out. These lads were older and bigger, and it simply wasn’t right.

It wasn’t Ruth’s fault she had the face of an angel; the girl was a child, and while she was in the shop, she was under Bernadette’s protection.

Another young lad then came into the shop and suddenly, Bernadette wanted to chase him out immediately. She let him in, but her blood was up. The boys had no intention of purchasing anything or joining the lending library. They were here to ogle Ruth.

Not on her watch!

“This is a shop that sells and loans books,” she said quite sharply. “If you’re not here for either of those two things, you can jolly well get out.”

They looked at her, wariness flickering over their faces, but they did not move.

“I shall sign you all up to the lending service? Let me put your names in the membership list.”

When she reached for the ledger to add their names and take their fees, she found all three of them standing around, forming something of a semicircle, not one of them putting their hands in their pockets to pull out coin. No wonder Ruth was terrified, they were all taller than Bernadette, and positively towered over Ruth.

It was on the tip of her tongue to call down for Lousie, and then she remembered. Lousie had a crowbar under the counter.

Bernadette reached for the crowbar and held it up, threatening them with it as she walked toward the three of them. “I said if you're not here to purchase or join the lending library, then you can get out !”

As one, they turned and fled from the shop as fast as their feet would take them.

Bernadette dropped the heavy crowbar on the counter, making a dent. Her arm ached like the devil, but she’d done it. She’d scared them off. She turned to check on the poor girl, who was white as a sheet. Somehow this made her even more beautiful than before.

“Are you all right, Ruth?”

The girl nodded.

Brutus chose this moment to step out where he’d been hiding among the bookshelves. “I don’t like those boys, they’re Benjamin’s friends and they’re all mean.”

“Even Devon?” He seemed a little meek, if anything. Not the kind to hang around with bullies.

Brutus shrugged. “I don’t know why Devon wants to be friends with them, they’re mean to him as well.”

Bernadette was grateful she’d been here to scare them off. But she started to wonder if she needed to always be in the bookshop to protect Ruth and possibly Brutus from the town bullies.

Maybe Louise would feel better soon, and be able to sit at the counter. That would help a great deal, and Bernadette would be able to get about town and see her customers. She had too much to do to babysit, and Ruth shouldn’t need it. Bernadette chewed on her lower lip, thinking. A word or two to Mr Lennox would probably remove Devon from the field in short order, but the other two were probably worse… Devon’s presence might actually make them mind their manners. What to do? She sighed in irritation. Why was this even her problem?

The bell above the front door tinkled again. Bernadette steeled herself for cousin Joshua to appear. To her surprise and a fair amount of relief, it was the new doctor.

He was … smiling?

“Good morning, Doctor Williams,” she greeted him. They had not begun on the best of terms, but after church he had been pleasant. One might almost call it conciliatory. They had withstood Reverend Millings’ ire and were receiving plenty of support in the aftermath, including some gentle words from the doctor outside church. He had, however, declined an invitation to lunch with the Ferndales, which had her wondering if he simply wasn’t accustomed to socialising.

What had he told her? That he’d followed his father from the school room to the battlefields as an apprentice surgeon, then endured several years of hideous conditions before being sponsored to train as a doctor. There would have been no time to learn the niceties of society.

“I came to browse, if that’s all right,” he said, tilting his head at the shelves of books.

It was a relief that at least he was not here to harass Ruth in any way. He’d not even noticed her at the counter. He only looked at the shelves of books, an expression of wonder on his face.

“Of course,” she said, “Let me know if you need any assistance.”

A pang of guilt surprised her, and she wondered if she had any books about society that might help in his new situation.

“This is marvellous,” he said from behind a tall shelf. “This whole section is for lending?”

Bernadette headed toward the sound of his voice. “Yes. Louise re-covers them to ensure they’re robust enough for repeat borrowing. Would you like a lending membership?”

“Yes please.” His face was alight as he looked at the shelves like a child looked at sweets. “Oh, and I was wondering where your medical section is.”

“This way,” she showed him to the single shelf with their range of health-related titles. “It’s not as comprehensive as I’d like. I’m hoping Papa sends some home from France soon.”

His face paled, eyes widening with horror. “Your father is in France at this moment?”

She found his concern comforting. There was no artifice in his expression at all. “He is, and we are, obviously, dreadfully worried about him. He departed last year when he heard that the crazed Corsican was safely imprisoned on Elba. If only he’d remained so.”

Doctor Williams reached out momentarily before withdrawing his hand, as if he wanted to comfort her with a gentle touch on the arm. Bernadette appreciated the gesture and steadied her breath. “In the meantime, we have books to keep us gainfully educated and by turns distracted from the madness in the world.”

“That we most certainly do.”

By the end of their interaction, he’d joined the lending library and bought a book on arthritis, then suggested some more medical volumes they should order in. “It’s so much easier showing patients the images in these books. I’m afraid I’m not much of a draughtsman and my illustrations tend to confuse them all the more.”

Bernadette sighed with relief as he left their shop. It had only taken the best part of a month, but they’d had a suitable interaction where they had not come to verbal blows. How utterly marvellous!

What was not marvellous at all was that Bernadette had to put all the entries into the ledger herself and add them up. Louise was useless with mathematics and continued to be so, but Bernadette had to admit she wasn’t much better.

Over the next few days, Bernadette tried to teach Brutus how to do the numbers, but his education was seriously lacking and she had to start with much more simple additions. Not his fault; his parents were only paying for Benjamin’s education, not their second son’s.

It would be impossible to leave the ledger until Mr Jackson came back. It could be months. Or… She didn’t want to think about it.

One morning, Mrs Bell came over and asked Bernadette to come with her and visit her married daughter, Mrs Nettle, who had a sore arm. The small bookshop windows were open to draw air upwards, because Louise was making stinky glue. She was still crying and moping but at least she was being somewhat productive. Until the glue was ready, Brutus had little to do.

Mrs Poole was too busy, so Bernadette begged Ruth and Brutus to mind the counter. “The glue smell will probably keep customers away, so I doubt you’ll have to do anything. And I’ll be back soon to help. Just take people’s names down if they have inquiries and I’ll sort it all out later. If they buy anything, please make a note of the money and put it in the tin under the counter. Ruth, you’re good at counting, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble.”

The young girl beamed at being given such responsibility, and Bernadette felt better immediately. “Call for Louise if any of those silly boys come in. Or run next door and get Mr Thomas, Brutus,” she added in a flash of inspiration. “He’ll toss them out if any of them start any nonsense.”

Grabbing her basket, she followed Mrs Bell to Mrs Nettle’s house, where they were both surprised to find Dr Williams already in attendance.

“Oh, good morning, Mrs Bell,” he said, cheerfully enough. “I passed Mr Nettle in the street and he asked me to stop in.”

“Ah,” Mrs Bell said. “Well. I didn’t think it something to bother you with, not yet anyway, I was going to ask Miss Bernadette to have a look.”

Her tone had the doctor, who had been bending over where Mrs Nettle sat in a chair, straighten up and look around. Spotting Bernadette standing in the doorway, his expression changed from amiable to annoyed.

“Your daughter has an abscess in her armpit, Mrs Bell, most likely from an infected ingrown hair. It requires lancing, draining and thoroughly cleaning, and not by an untrained herb woman.”

Bernadette bristled with fury. “Who do you think was handling this sort of thing before you came?” she snapped. “Dr Rasley would never have bestirred himself for such a thing!”

“Why ever not?” His expression was frankly incredulous. “This is a nasty infection!”

Mrs Nettle made a slight sound of distress, and Bernadette stepped forward to look past the doctor. What she saw gave her pause - the lump in Mrs Nettle’s armpit was as big as a baby’s clenched fist, an ugly shade of purple, with dark red streaks around it.

“Oh,” Mrs Bell said, obviously seeing it too. “Hilda, you didn’t tell me it was this bad! Why didn’t you say something to me before?”

“Didn’t want to be a bother,” Mrs Nettle said sheepishly.

“You’re not a bother,” Bernadette said quickly, reaching to take Mrs Nettle’s free hand and squeeze it gently.

“I’ll take care of it,” Dr Williams said firmly.

“The pair of you.” Mrs Bell put her hands on her ample hips and frowned at them. “Stop bickering like children and take care of it together .”

Bernadette flushed to the roots of her hair, and though she couldn’t look at him directly, from the corner of her eye spotted that the doctor had turned a little red too.

“Once the abscess is drained, I have a poultice here that is very good for drawing out residual infection,” she offered in a small voice.

“I appreciate that, Miss Baxter.” The doctor paused, and then said quietly, “This is likely to be quite uncomfortable for Mrs Nettle. If Mrs Bell can hold her shoulders and you hold her arm…”

“Of course.”

Bernadette was actually quite fascinated to watch as Dr Williams carefully cleaned a scalpel blade with what smelled like pure alcohol, before tucking some clean rags beneath Mrs Nettle’s arm and making a single thin slice deep into the skin.

What came out of the abscess was quite unmentionable, and Dr Williams gently probed and prodded and massaged until Mrs Nettle was hissing with pain, but the fluids looked a much more natural colour.

“A good job,” he said briskly, whisking away the soiled rags and wiping the cut with a fresh one soaked in whisky.

“Will it need a stitch in?” Bernadette asked curiously.

“No, I would prefer it continue to drain naturally. If you notice any excess bleeding, send for me,” he told Mrs Nettle, “but otherwise treat it with the poultice Miss Baxter will give you for… three days?” He looked at Bernadette.

“At least three days,” she agreed. “I’ll call in each day to look at it for you. And I’ll let you know, Doctor, if I think the infection is worsening.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a small nod, cleaning his scalpel and putting it away.

“There,” Mrs Bell said in satisfied tones. “See, the two of you can work together.”

Neither Bernadette or the doctor had anything to say to that, but she met his eyes as he gave her a quick sideways glance, and a little to her surprise, he smiled at her. A wry, sheepish sort of grin, but one which seemed to express the same things she was feeling - that perhaps they’d both been a little silly, building up a rivalry that served no good purpose.

She smiled back.

Returning to the bookshop a little while later, Bernadette found the smile staying on her lips. Dr Williams could be nice when he wasn’t trying to lord it over her with his superior medical knowledge. There was no question that he was actually a very good doctor, far superior to old Dr Rasley. Not only his medical skills, but his bedside manner; he had been very kind to every patient she had seen him with thus far, quick and deft when a painful procedure was required and taking what steps he could to minimise discomfort.

Yes, although she’d had misgivings initially, she thought Dr Williams was going to be very good for the people of Hatfield!

Humming a jaunty little tune to herself, she smiled at Ruth as she placed her basket on the desk.

“I sold four books!” Ruth said, looking rather proud of herself.

“Oh, what a good job! To different customers?” Bernadette asked.

“Well, no, just Lord Ferndale. But he was very pleased with the selection I offered him!”

Bernadette resisted the urge to pat Ruth on the head. Lord Ferndale rarely left the bookshop with less than three books tucked under his arm, and was so kind he would probably have bought whatever books Ruth offered even if he owned them already. Ruth had still done well to interact with a customer at all, and she had written the transaction down perfectly, Bernadette saw as she looked over Ruth’s shoulder at the ledger.

“Excellent work,” she praised.

Ruth beamed happily. “Shall I go dust shelves now?”

Since Ruth had begun work at the bookshop, there was rarely a speck of dust to be found anywhere.

“I think we’re very clean at the moment. Why don’t I show you the catalogue? Now that those books are sold, we need to decide if we are going to re-order them for stock.”

“How do you decide that?” Ruth asked.

“It depends on if we’ve sold them before, and how frequently…”

Bernadette continued to explain as she opened their heavy book catalogue. She showed Ruth what she was talking about, and the younger girl nodded, listening intently.

“Bernadette, may I ask you a question?” Ruth said a little while later, as the two of them worked quietly, Ruth writing out a list of books for the next order from the London printer.

“Of course,” Bernadette said.

“It’s not about books…”

Bernadette smiled. “We’re friends, Ruth. You can ask me anything, about any topic you have questions about.”

“What are courses?”

Bernadette hesitated. “In what context are you asking?” she said cautiously.

“Well.” Ruth glanced about furtively, even though the pair of them were quite alone, since Brutus was upstairs helping Louise at the moment. “I’ve heard some of the women come into the shop asking you for herbs to help with their courses. To bring them on, or to regulate them… and I’m not sure what they are.”

“You’re fourteen, aren’t you, Ruth?” Bernadette checked. Why ever hadn’t the girl’s mother talked to her about this? Bernadette sighed inwardly. An awkward conversation, to be sure, but someone would have to have it. Maybe Mrs Millings didn’t dare speak of such things to her daughter, for fear of her husband calling such speech sinful.

Ruth was looking at her expectantly, so Bernadette nodded. Better for the girl to have the knowledge, the complete knowledge, especially since her beauty meant she already had most of the young men in town tripping over their feet when she walked by.

“All right. I’ll tell you. Let me get us a cup of tea, and I will stop talking the moment the bell rings, but I promise I’ll explain everything you need to know about the functions of a woman’s body.”

Ruth’s eyes got bigger and rounder the longer Bernadette talked, and by the end of the long conversation, her face was quite white. Bernadette’s was rather pink. Factual though she had tried to be, it was still not a topic that she was quite comfortable discussing aloud with anyone!

Ruth shook her head when Bernadette asked if she had any questions, and Bernadette suspected she’d shocked the poor girl. Better too much information than not enough, though, or worse yet, inaccurate nonsense gleaned from other girls who didn’t have the facts.

“It’s quiet this afternoon. Why don’t you take a book and go read by the stove?” she suggested kindly, guessing Ruth probably would like a little time to digest what she’d been told.

Ruth very nearly fled, making Bernadette smile. Perhaps she should give this talk to other young girls, she mused. It might lead to a few less unwanted pregnancies among the farm girls who flipped their skirts for boys without a thought and then came begging Bernadette for help when they didn’t want to marry!

On the other hand, maybe not. If Reverend Millings found out she was delivering these kinds of lessons, the thunderous sermons would get even worse. Bernadette just hoped Ruth had the sense not to ever mention today’s knowledge at home.

The bell chimed and Mr Thomas from the Red Lion next door popped his head in. “Letter came for you, Miss Bernadette,” he said cheerfully. “From Ireland!”

“From Estelle!” Bernadette paid the postage and took the letter eagerly. Their eldest sister Estelle had gone off to Ireland with her new husband Mr Yates the previous autumn to visit with Mr Yates’ mother who lived there. Estelle had written regularly, every two weeks at least, and in her last letter had mentioned that Mr Yates was making enquiries about a ship to bring them home now that spring had arrived.

“Oh. Oh!” Bernadette read the letter in increasing shock, her hand going to her mouth. “Louise. Louise!” She shrieked it loudly enough that her sister came rushing down the stairs only a moment later, asking whatever was the matter. Bernadette held out the letter with a shaking hand.

“Estelle’s pregnant!”

Louise’s expression transformed from sad and slightly concerned, to shocked delight. She took the letter and read it, her expression undergoing another transformation as she got to the end.

“Oh… but she’s not coming home!”

“Not yet,” Bernadette qualified. “The morning sickness is making her quite miserable at the moment and she is in no condition to travel, but usually that eases after the first months and she should be able to come home then.”

“Hm.” Louise read the letter over again, leaning on the counter. “She sounds so happy,” she said wistfully.

“As does Marie!” They’d had a letter just the previous day from their other sister, now the Countess of Renwick, blissful in her northern castle with her new husband after running off to Gretna Green with him when Cousin Joshua refused permission for them to marry.

“I am happy for them,” Louise said with a loud sniff. She wiped away a tear. “At least we know they’re safe so we don’t have to worry about them.”

Bernadette put a sympathetic hand on Louise’s arm. No, they didn’t have to worry about Estelle and Marie… but their father was another matter, and so was Mr Jackson.

“Hopefully everyone will come home soon,” she said, and Louise nodded in fervent agreement.