Page 7 of Bernadette’s Dashing Doctor (The Bookshop Belles #4)
CHAPTER 7
An Unlikely Thief
A most peculiar thing happened a few days later. Bernadette was on her way out with her usual basket of herbs when Ruth asked her to help a customer from London with a specific request. It was just the two of them in the shop, as Brutus was helping Louise bind another volume of Shakespeare folios.
Strange that Ruth could not do this for herself. There was a young woman waiting for Bernadette on the other side of town, and she was already running late. Ruth appeared to only want to sit behind the counter, which was unlike her. Then she suddenly remembered their excruciating but necessary conversation and wondered if Ruth was experiencing her courses? She left the young girl alone, thinking she might need a little privacy.
She helped the traveller with some reading choices and then made her way back to the counter. Just in time to see Ruth pull her hand back from the basket. She’d taken something, Bernadette was sure of it. It was very un-Ruth-like behaviour.
After she bid farewell to the customer, she reached for the basket and examined the contents. It was just as well she had, Ruth had taken the one thing her customer required.
She sighed, put the basket down and moved to the front door, where she switched the Open sign to Closed and snibbed the latch. Turning back to the counter, she looked at Ruth, who could not meet her eyes.
“Ruth, please tell me what’s going on?” Bernadette said it as gently as she could, not wanting to scare the skittish girl.
Ruth dropped her head and snivelled miserably. Then she took the wrapped sachet of herbs from her pocket and put them back on the counter. “It’s not f-for me. It’s f-or a fr-iend.”
“Does your friend know how to use it?” Bernadette kept her voice steady, to get to the truth of the matter. Perhaps they were for Ruth’s mother; Mrs Millings would be far too terrified of her husband to dare come to Bernadette herself. It would make sense.
“I… don’t know… if she does.”
Bernadette sighed and leaned onto the counter, then pushed the herbs towards Ruth to let her know she could have them. “There are no guarantees. There’s enough in here for two doses. Divide it up and put half in a cup of tea. Not the pot, it will be too diluted, so put it in the cup. Let it steep for five minutes. Then strain it and drink it all at once. Twelve hours later, take the second half the same way.”
Ruth nodded but said nothing.
“Look, why don’t I come with you to see your friend, then I can see how far along she is and whether this will even work?”
“No!” Ruth sprang back as if Bernadette had struck her. “You can’t come. I was sworn to secrecy. Nobody can know.”
Cold fear moved through Bernadette. She had to speak carefully. “Ruth, you’re not in trouble, but it sounds like your friend might be. Let her know I’d like to help. At the very least I could be a trusted person to talk to?”
Ruth shook her head, pocketed the herbs and said a timid, “Thank you.”
Bernadette jogged upstairs to create another sachet of tea for her customer, and was soon heading out the front door, switching the sign back to Open now that she and Ruth had talked privately. The conversation and Ruth’s furtive behaviour weighed on her mind, though.
She waved to Dr Williams as she walked past Mrs Bell’s front window, but had no time to chat. She was even later now, and had to be back by closing to help Louise with the ledger.
By the time she reached her customer, Mary Ormiston, she was quite out of breath. They sat in her parents’ kitchen and Bernadette was grateful this treatment required a cup of tea. She was parched. Mrs Ormiston fussed about, but she’d already got the water boiled for tea.
The rest of the male siblings were working in the fields, or had joined the war with Mr Ormiston.
“How long has it been?” Bernadette asked Mary.
“About eight or nine weeks, I suppose,” she answered. The girl was despondent and had been crying. “I thought it was just nerves, and I’ve been crying so much since Alfred joined up. I thought he’d marry me for sure this time, but he up and enlisted anyway!”
One of Mary’s younger sisters came in carrying a child of about one in her arms. The child was fussing and unsettled. Mrs Ormiston took the babe in her arms and patted her back until the little one burped. Satisfied and no longer in pain, the babe closed her eyes and Mrs Ormiston handed the baby back.
“I’ll make you some fresh scones as soon as we’re able,” Mary said.
“Don’t worry about that,” Bernadette assured her, pouring half the herbs into Mary’s teacup.
Mary stirred them then moved to start drinking.
“Not yet, give it five minutes. It needs to steep,” Bernadette said, folding the second dose of herbs away and giving them to Mary’s mother.
“Mrs Ormiston, do you happen to have rhubarb growing? I’m running low and it makes excellent gripe water for babes.” Bernadette knew the Ormistons had some, but it wouldn’t be growing vigorously until later in summer.
“I have a good patch down the back that is reliable every summer. I’ll dig you out a crown if you like.”
“Oh no, thank you, I have nowhere to plant it, but two stalks, if you have any at all, will be excellent.”
Once Bernadette deemed the brew had steeped enough, she nodded to Mary. “If you’re only two months, it should work, but if you’re further along, it might not.”
Mary strained the drink through her teeth, then flicked the wet herbs into the cup. “Tastes vile.”
“Take the second dose tonight,” Bernadette said, patting Mary’s arm. “You’ll likely feel quite dreadful for a few days, I’m sorry, but hopefully you’ll start to bleed sooner rather than later.”
“Ow, I do ‘ope so,” Mary sniffled. “I wouldn’t mind me a babe, but I need to be married first!”
“Mm.” Bernadette tried to think if there were any young men who would marry Mary even if she was carrying another man’s child. So many had gone off to war… but perhaps there was someone who might be persuaded? Better that than a home for unwed mothers. Or perhaps Mary and Mrs Ormiston could disappear for a while and Mrs Ormiston could pass the babe off as her own… Damn Napoleon and this stupid war anyway!
Mrs Ormiston appeared with five stalks of rhubarb instead of two. This was far more than Bernadette needed, but she appreciated the gesture and thanked the woman.
On her way home, she expected to wave to Dr Williams through the window as she passed, but he instead waved a news sheet at her and then came out the front door.
“What is it?” Her heart beat a tattoo in her head from fear.
“I wondered if you’d had a chance to see the latest dispatch from France?”
He looked pale. This could not be good.
Bernadette shook her head and he handed over the paper so she could read the awful news for herself. Terrifying battles taking place in towns she knew her father might be trying to traverse through to come home. There simply was no way of knowing if he was still alive and safe or in a ditch somewhere. And that was before she and Louise had time to worry about where Shaun might be.
“Dreadful business,” Dr Williams said as she handed the newssheet back. “Before he left, Mr Jackson asked me to look out for you and Miss Louise. Is there anything I can do? Perhaps a meal at the Red Lion so you don’t have to cook?”
“You are so kind,” Bernadette said, thinking that he was being very decent these days and not throwing his educational achievements at her. “Mrs Poole, our housekeeper, will fret if she can’t feed us a nourishing meal.”
“Ah, I see,” he looked at his feet.
“Wait. Why don’t you come over and have dinner with us? And bring Mrs Bell, too. She can have a night off for a change.”
His face brightened and he said, “Capital!”
The term made Bernadette laugh a little.
“Did I use the wrong phrase? I thought it meant ‘Jolly good’.”
“Oh, it does, but it sounds a little strange coming from you. I’ll ask Mrs Poole what night would suit her.”
“I should come and thank her for how well she and Miss Yates run the Hospital Committee.”
Before Bernadette really knew what they were doing, they were walking across the street to the bookshop, chatting amiably.
The door tinkled and Ruth was not behind the counter.
A beaming Brutus Baxter was, so she was relieved to see somebody there.
Louise’s voice carried down the stairs in a loud shriek of woe. “Oh no!”
Dr Williams sprang into action. “Is she hurt?” he asked as he rushed up the stairs.
Bernadette followed, and they were all soon in the kitchen, where she could put her basket down.
“Louise?” Bernadette called out.
“Oh dear.” That was Mrs Poole, as she came into the kitchen from another room. “Oh dear, oh dear. That’s ruined that, then.” Then she saw they had company and came over all formal: “Good afternoon, Doctor Williams, everything all right?”
“Someone sounded hurt so I ran up?” he answered.
Louise came into the kitchen carrying a small wooden trunk.
Tiny mewling sounds sprang from inside.
She placed the trunk on the kitchen table with a huff. “Wollstonecraft, this is the last straw!”
Several heads from different directions all converged to look at what was in that box.
Crafty had delivered her five kittens in their box of beautiful fabrics Miss Yates had given them to make dresses for Estelle’s wedding. They’d made a new dress each, but there were several lengths left over; Bernadette knew Louise had hoped to use one for a new dress for her own wedding to Shaun. Tears stood in Louise’s eyes now at the death of that hope.
Bernadette shook her head. Those stains would never come out of the delicate silk.
Dr Williams gulped and looked guilty. “I can’t help but feel this is my fault,” he said. “I was the one who let the cat out…”
“She would likely have escaped anyway,” Bernadette said kindly. “Don’t distress yourself.”
Louise was the one who was upset, Bernadette could see. She guided the doctor to the stairs and said Brutus would be able to assist if he needed any books.
“Perhaps I won’t accept that dinner invitation quite so soon,” he said as he reached the door, “I wouldn’t want to upset Miss Louise any further.”
After Dr Williams left, looking extremely guilty and contrite, Bernadette trudged back upstairs to assess the emotional damage. Louise was in a kitchen chair, her head in her hands, crying in earnest.
“Ah, pet,” Mrs Poole said, with a look at Bernadette. “Here.” She scooped up the trunk of kittens and took it out, perhaps thinking that if Louise didn’t have to look at it she wouldn’t feel so bad.
Bernadette knew better. She sat down beside Louise and put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “You’ve seen the newssheets?” she asked quietly.
Louise just sobbed harder.
“I know things are scary but you have to have faith, Lou. We’ve never stopped believing that Pa would come home, and you’ve got to keep believing that Mr Jackson will too.” Bernadette tried to sound as confident and positive as she possibly could.
“What if neither of them do?” Louise cried.
“Then we’re not alone,” Bernadette said stoutly. “Estelle and Mr Yates will be home soon, and I know Marie is far away, but she and Renwick will send help if we ever need it.”
Louise didn’t even seem to be able to speak. She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a crumpled letter, putting it on the table between her and Bernadette.
“What is that?” Bernadette peered at the letter, her brow furrowing. It looked… official, somehow. Like the loan letters from the bank. But they couldn’t be getting more of those, they’d repaid the loan.
Louise gulped, and then she said in a small voice, “I think we need that help, ‘Dette. I really do.”
Bernadette couldn’t make any sense of the letter, and Louise had to explain it to her; that one of their worst nightmares was about to come true. Cousin Joshua had gone to Chancery Court in London and requested to be made trustee of their father’s estate; with their father gone to France, Joshua had claimed that two young girls, neither of them even of legal age, could not competently run a business.
Both of them knew too well what Joshua would do if he could legally gain control; there would be a pile of books outside in the street, probably on fire, and they’d be tossed out on their ears. Lord Ferndale would take them in, of course, but Baxter’s Fine Books would be no more.
Over my dead body! Fury surged through Bernadette, replacing her initial panic. Joshua was not getting away with this, no matter what she had to do!
Leaving Louise to mourn the ruination of her not-even-created wedding dress, Bernadette set off downstairs with her writing things in hand and set about informing her other sisters. Marie and Estelle had both married men of influence; Renwick was an earl and Mr Yates the grandson of a baron. Either of them could bring their titled status to bear on the court to thwart Joshua, surely… they just had to agree to come. She’d go and see Lord Ferndale tomorrow, too. Grandfather would help. He might not have any legal standing to get himself appointed their trustee, not being actually related to them except by marriage, but he certainly had influence.
Determined, Bernadette bent over the paper, the scratch of her pen filling the quiet of the bookshop as she began to write.