Page 8 of Bernadette’s Dashing Doctor (The Bookshop Belles #4)

CHAPTER 8

Brimstone

I f they thought the last sermon was bad, the Baxter sisters’ ears were figuratively blistering at the next Sunday’s service. Reverend Millings was in full flight. Considering his fury, his face should be as red as a scraped knee, but instead it had the colour of a decaying lemon.

There was a war on, so many men from Hatfield were in mortal peril at this very moment. Some of their wives had followed the drum to help provide meals and care.

Did he lead the congregation in prayer for a swift victory and the safe return of their neighbours? Not at all. Their vicar could only see sin in the people who remained. Bernadette looked directly ahead, trying not to flinch as he extolled the wicked nature of so many people who “gave in to sin at the slightest provocation.”

“Interfering with God’s divine will!” he screamed from the pulpit. “God looks after his flock, he needs no outside interference! If you are ailing, it is God’s will! Let no man interfere!”

Bernadette had to suddenly concentrate. She’d felt sure he was going to mention unsuitable reading material but he instead diverted sharply to talk about “prayer and faith being all people needed when they were sick”.

As he continued, to her horror, she realised he wasn’t pouring scorn on the Baxters this time. Instead, he was railing about the sin of modern medicine!

Proper medicines that a doctor like Glynn used for treating and healing people.

Bernadette could take it when Brimstone was harassing them; she and Louise supported each other, and they had Rosie and Mrs Poole at home. They also had the support of the Ferndales. But poor Glynn, he hadn’t been here long. He might be in Lord Ferndale’s employ, but he had no family in town. This was demonstrably unfair on the poor man. He didn’t deserve to be singled out like this. She peered along the pew at him and saw him sitting rigidly straight, his face like stone. Beyond him, Lord Ferndale looked quite furious. The vicar had clearly not listened to Lord Ferndale’s requests to tone down the brimstone and stop targeting his parishioners!

The end of the service couldn’t come soon enough. When they were finally outside, the sun shone brightly and people were bidding farewell. Bernadette made her way to Glynn to offer him solace. “I am so sorry he targeted you this week,” she said.

He made a rueful smile and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m glad he wasn’t turning his ire on you, like he frequently does.”

She shrugged and said, “I’m almost used to it. But it’s not fair, what he said. You’re doing good work here.”

“Thank you. I feel a little politics might have played some part.”

“Oh?”

He kept his voice low so they wouldn't be overheard. A lilting burr crept into his accent. “Yes, I voted against the reverend, and your cousin, at the last council meeting. They were displeased, to say the least.”

“Oh dear!” She should be shocked, but instead felt a little camaraderie that the two of them were suffering the wrath of the same people. “Well, I hope it doesn’t put anyone off coming to see you. This town needs its doctor.”

“Ah, there you are!” a voice called out. It was Lord Ferndale. “Ready for lunch?”

Bernadette had the first pangs of hunger, and was mentally savouring the roasted potatoes the Ferndale Hall cook prepared so beautifully. Golden-crunchy on the outside and tender in the middle, she could almost taste them on her tongue already. She nodded eagerly.

“You too, Dr Williams, please join us. Cook keeps forgetting Mr Jackson and some of our staff are away, and makes far too much. We’d be grateful if you would accept.” Lord Ferndale nodded in his usual amiable way.

Glynn said, “Well, in that case, I’d be glad to come.”

Lord Ferndale beamed, and soon they were settled comfortably in the carriage, bowling along at a good place, the summer sun beaming down on them.

The potatoes were excellent and plentiful. Bernadette saw a glimmer of fun in her honorary grandfather’s eye and wondered if he was up to his matchmaking tricks again. He insisted she sit by Dr Williams, and the direction of the conversation was decidedly medical, ensuring the two of them would have to talk to each other.

She didn’t mind conversing with him at all; he was intelligent and well-educated, and she could definitely learn from him. But a romantic prospect? Attractive as he’d been with no shirt on, they were still too much at odds for her to consider that as a possibility. She did not want a husband who did not respect her skills. They would not get along, it would end in bickering and acrimony.

Glynn was all thumbs. If this were a medical examination instead, he would have passed with distinction. Alas, he’d never studied how to attend a lunch with a baron and his maiden sister, so he had no idea of the protocol. He’d just have to keep smiling and saying “thank you” and hope that would cover his lack of decorum.

“Relax, Dr Williams, you’re among friends here,” Lord Ferndale assured him.

“Be kind, brother, he’s probably still recovering from the sermon,” Miss Yates said. Then she passed a plate of string beans his way. “Do you like beans?”

“Thank you,” Glynn said, spooning a few onto his plate. He’d watched the way Miss Yates had done it with the fork and spoon and copied her style.

He put the cutlery down on the plate. Nobody had started eating yet, so he didn’t reach for his knife and fork. Bernadette was sitting opposite him, making a silent gesture with her eyes, looking to him, then back to the plate.

“Oh! Of course. Miss Bernadette, would you like some beans?”

“Thank you,” she accepted the plate and served herself, then offered them to Louise.

Lord Ferndale said, “Let me know if your patient load reduces at all after that blast from Millings. I hope it won’t, for the health of the town.”

“I am keeping good records, and the town is mostly healthy, aside from occasional farming and other accidents. I will let you know if patronage decreases.”

Lord Ferndale picked up his knife and fork, and the rest of the table followed suit. Thank heavens he’d finally started, Glynn was famished and the food aromas were making his mouth water.

“And Bernadette, I hope you and the midwives can take a breath and rest, now that Dr Williams is in town?”

“He is a great boon to us all,” she said.

Warmth engulfed Glynn at her praise.

“Excellent!” Lord Ferndale beamed. “You’ve ceased hostilities.”

Glynn nearly choked on his roast chicken.

Accurate record keeping was something Glynn had established as soon as he’d arrived in Hatfield. It was something he’d begun in his early days in the army, a practice adopted from his father, and he had never stopped. On this quiet Saturday morning, as he completed some notekeeping from the patients he’d seen through the week, he couldn’t help feeling frustrated at having to start from scratch with every patient. Usually a doctor would rely on the records kept by his predecessor, but whatever records Dr Rasley might have kept had burned in the fire. His trust of the midwives had increased after he’d attended the Hospital Committee meeting; their records had been excellent, although it was disheartening to learn of so many babes and their mothers who’d died in childbed or soon thereafter.

He looked across the street just as Bernadette returned to the bookshop from an errand with her herbs. Inspiration struck. Bernadette could help him.

Within a few minutes, he was across the street. The sign on the door said “Closed” so he knocked and opened it gently so as not to startle anyone inside.

A puffy-faced Louise greeted him behind the counter. The poor woman must have read the latest news arriving from France. It was ghastly.

“How are you bearing up?” he asked as gently as he could.

“It’s all awful,” she said, wiping her face. “Are you here for some books? I’ll call Bernadette down to help.”

“Thank you, although I’m not here to purchase, that can wait, but I’d be most grateful if I could speak to your sister. I’d ask after your health, but I trust Bernadette can offer better treatment?” The sister would have a much better tonic than anything he could offer - the warmth of comfort in a discomforting time.

Bernadette appeared cheerful as she came down the stairs. It warmed him to see her smile, although he tried very hard not to think about how much her smile affected him in a strange way.

“I’ve come to ask for your assistance with record keeping in the town. I’m keen to build some more knowledge about the town and the people. Injuries and illness and such.”

“The hospital committee has good records,” she suggested.

“Indeed they do. The reports at the last meeting were thorough and precise, and appear to go back several years. I also believe you excel at keeping good records, as you keep catalogues for the hundreds of books in the shop, and you keep the ledgers.” He’d noticed her methodically working down the columns of accounts on several occasions.

Louise interrupted with a baleful, “I’m not that bad at it am I?”

“You’re very good at other things,” Bernadette reassured her.

Glynn tried not to chuckle. He was in a serious pursuit for accuracy. “Of course, Dr Rasley’s records burned in the fire, so we’ve lost them. But I’m wondering, if we could work together to rebuild some reliable patient dossiers?”

She smiled at him and he felt those strange feelings again, which he tried very hard to ignore.

“The register of births, deaths and marriages at the churches will be a useful place to start.”

“Of course!” he grinned with delight. He should have thought of that.

Then his smile dimmed. “Each church has their own?” He was sure the priest at the Catholic church would be very helpful, but the other…

“Yes, of course.”

“Would this mean having to talk to Reverend Millings?”

Bernadette pressed her lips together in thought. She didn’t appear too happy with the idea of having to speak to the man who so spitefully derided them from the pulpit. “He will likely be busy at the moment writing his sermon for tomorrow, but Mrs Millings and her helpers will be decorating with flowers for the service, and they won’t mind us being there. The doors are always open.”

His heart raced with excitement. “This will help so much. I will just collect my ledger so I can take notes!”

Within half an hour, they were in the church. He was glad he wasn’t coming on his own, and admired Bernadette’s bravery in accompanying him.

True to Bernadette’s prediction, Mrs Millings and her helpers didn’t mind them at all.

They set to work looking through the precious volumes, filled by dates and names of recent events. It felt like looking through time.

He took notes in his ledger of the recent births, so that he would visit the families and check on their health. “This is already helping so much. I’d be lost without you,” he said.

She made a soft little, “Gosh,” in response.

Had he gone too far? He really should keep their interactions as professional as possible.

But they weren’t here alone, there were several women sweeping the floors and polishing the timbers.

The side doors opened and Reverend Millings walked in. The ladies and his wife greeted him almost silently and made deferential bobs.

Glynn gulped, but did not move. Any second now the reverend would see them.

He did.

His eyes rounded and his neck stiffened.

His skin had the same colour as a fresh dandelion flower, and his eyes showed yellow too in the whites. The man really wasn’t well. Perhaps it was true that choler damaged the liver.

“You!” The vicar raised his hand and pointed at them. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man stomped towards them. Eyes wide with fury, puffy skin wobbling on his cheeks with rage.

Glynn grabbed Bernadette and shoved himself in front of her to shield her. “This was my idea, Miss Baxter is blameless! I came to see the town recor…”

“Sinners in the house of God!” Millings screamed at them. “How dare you?”

Heart hammering behind his ribs, Glynn wondered whether Bernadette should flee while she still had the chance.

The young woman squeaked out, “We’re doing this for the good of the town!”

Millings stomped closer, bearing down on them, spit flying from his mouth. “How! Dare! -”

Suddenly, his entire body stiffened.

No more words came out, despite his open mouth.

His eyes rolled back in his head.

Foam gathered and began to drip from his lips.

Nobody said a word as his entire body suddenly dropped to the floor with a tremendous thud.

A couple of the women screamed. Mrs Millings gasped and held onto the edge of a pew for support.

Glynn leaped forward and crouched beside the fallen man, reaching for the Reverend’s neck and checking for a pulse. His own blood ran cold as he failed to find one.

“Wh-at’s hap-pened?” Bernadette stammered from behind him.

Glynn shook his head, his fingers searching for any sign of life. “He’s dead.”

Mrs Millings collapsed onto the floor. The rest of the women rushed to her side.

Glynn turned to a pale Bernadette. “Probably for the best if you go home, and have some sweet tea.” Their record keeping excursion was done, and she could not help anyone here. Best to get her out of the situation before a crowd arrived.

Wordlessly, she nodded and fled.

Glynn could not flee. He was a doctor, he’d just witnessed a man fall down dead in front of him and he had to do something.

He grabbed his ledger and began writing, noting the symptoms, the foamy spittle in his mouth, the distressing colour of his skin. There wasn’t much he could do at this point but to make an accurate record of everything that had happened.

The women were comforting Mrs Millings, who would be in a great deal of shock no doubt. He went over and asked if anyone would make her a strong tea with plenty of honey. One of the helpers dashed away.

“Is he… gone?” Mrs Millings asked.

Glynn nodded in the affirmative. “I’m afraid so.”

She slumped to the floor and a strange soft groan came out. It almost sounded like a sigh, but Mrs Millings was always so quiet, he assumed this was how she processed bad news.

Ruth rushed in from the door one of the helpers had only just exited. She looked to be in a complete state, still wearing a nightgown and bare feet from being abed, as she ran to embrace her mother.

“Oh Mama!” she cried, rocking her gently with comfort. “It’s going to be all right.”

Glynn stepped back and gave them some privacy in their confusion and grief. “Let me know if you need anything. I shall contact the undertaker.”

There wasn’t a great distance between the church and the undertaker, Glynn mused. He spoke only briefly to Mr Barnstable, because his head was swirling with names of the people he should notify. He retrieved Canterbury from the livery yard behind the Red Lion and tried to work out in which direction he should set out. Every member of the town council should know. Well, Lord Ferndale first. He’d be the easiest person to speak to. He did not relish the thought of having to speak to Joshua Baxter or Mr Burton. They were already angry with him after he’d voted against them at the last meeting.

Then it struck him. There would be one less member of the town council holding back progress. Joshua Baxter had lost an ally. That made the thought of delivering the news to them just that little bit better.

Glynn wanted to punch Joshua Baxter with the way he’d taken control of the church service the next day. Not that there was a replacement yet, but the fact he’d assumed he was the most important person to deliver the news to the town stuck in Glynn’s gullet.

“I urge all to treat this event with solemnity and lean on your faith. Now is not the time to engage in idle gossip.” Then Baxter looked directly towards Bernadette and Louise, which was seriously unfair.

A replacement temporary curate arrived from the bishop a few days later. His first duty was to officiate at the funeral of Reverend Millings. Mrs Milling and Ruth looked weighed down by their black mourning dress. The widow had not come to see Glynn for any assistance, but she looked even more frail than usual. Perhaps he might suggest she start adding rich sauces to her food to restore her strength?

This vicar was so softly spoken they had to apply extra concentration to hear him. The people in the pews towards the rear of the church would have no chance.

The next day, Lord Ferndale convened an emergency town council meeting at the Red Lion. Glynn brought his records with him and had to deliver the unwelcome news.

“It’s my belief this was not a natural death,” he said. “Many people in the town observed that the late Reverend Millings had poor colour in his face for several weeks.”

Lord Ferndale nodded.

Joshua bristled. “You’re just making a cover story for yourself.”

“Please, keep things civil,” Lord Ferndale interrupted.

“He was the last person to see the vicar alive,” Joshua complained. “He was fighting with him!”

Mr Burton sided with Joshua, of course. “You never said that when you told me he’d d- passed,” the solicitor said pompously, glowering at Glynn.

“There were several women cleaning and decorating the church at the time I was there,” Glynn said. “They will bear witness that I did not touch him. In fact, he was the one who saw me and started shouting on approach. I didn’t even get close enough to touch him!”

Mr Burton scoffed and said, “Women.” As if that dismissed any input they could make.

Lord Ferndale rescued the situation with some common sense. “I agree that this matter should be examined. However, as my investigator is currently risking his life for King and Country, we shall have to wait for his return.”

Joshua looked furious again at the mere mention of Mr Jackson, even though Lord Ferndale hadn’t said his name. “I’m the magistrate,” he said snappishly.

“Then perhaps you would care to do your job, Mr Baxter,” Lord Ferndale said calmly. “If you know how.”

That was quite a stinger, Glynn thought as the meeting broke up and a sputtering Joshua stormed out, Mr Burton the only man who followed immediately on his heels. Perhaps some of the other men were beginning to have second thoughts regarding which horse they’d chosen to back? About time, in Glynn’s opinion. Baxter was a blowhard fool, Lord Ferndale a decent and honourable man, and anyone who couldn’t see those things was blinder than the proverbial bat.