Page 12 of Grace in Glasgow (Seduced in Scotland #3)

G race waited a full minute after Dr. Hall had left the office before she quickly donned her cape and gloves.

Virgil, however, was taking his time, putting away the last bits of dry herbs that had been out for weighing to distribute to the last patient, the elderly Mrs. Champs, who had come to get a pain reliever for her daughter, who was currently pregnant.

“Hurry,” Grace said, leaning against the front window as she tried to spy the last of Dr. Hall before he turned the corner at the end of the street. “I can’t see him anymore.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, my lady?” Virgil asked as he reached behind him, placing the small, white and blue porcelain jar on the second shelf behind him. “Dr. Hall didn’t seem too keen on the idea of you seeing, well, whatever it is he plans on doing with poor Mr. Flannery.”

Grace glanced over her shoulder. She knew it was wrong to have asked Virgil for his help, particularly because it went against his employer, but Dr. Hall was being unreasonable.

If there was a chance for her to learn something, particularly about the human body and its demise, well, wasn’t that the exact reason she had come to Glasgow in the first place?

Surely, she should be able to, at the very least, see what an autopsy might look like.

And who knows? She might even be helpful.

If Mr. Flannery had been poisoned, it was likely with some sort of herb or plant and she had spent the last year gathering and learning about—every leaf, stem, and root in the country, as well as the signs that came along when said plants were consumed.

Really, Dr. Hall was being shortsighted. She could help.

“If you’ve changed your mind, I understand.” She tied the ribbons beneath her chin tightly. “Then I shall go alone.”

“No! My lady, please,” Virgil said, hobbling toward her as he reached for his coat hanging on the wooden coat rack. “Dr. Hall would never forgive me if he learned that I knew you meant to follow him without an escort.”

“I am not so fragile as Dr. Hall believes.”

“Still, I cannot allow you to travel alone.”

She smiled at the young man, who puffed out his chest at his last statement. It was sweet of him to want to protect her, but with a damaged leg, Grace doubted he’d be able to do much. Still, she appreciated his concern.

“Very well. But we must make haste. I don’t wish to lose sight of him.”

“Fear not. I’ve been to Andersen University a dozen times.”

“Have you?”

Virgil nodded as they exited the building.

He locked the door behind them before turning around to face the late afternoon crowd.

Men and women hurried home from work or the markets, trying to beat the setting sun as homes around the city began to stoke the kitchen fires for supper.

Grace was certainly aware of the drop in temperature now that the days were becoming shorter.

Thankfully, she had her aunt’s own punch carriage that had been loaned to her and her alone for her time in Glasgow.

Aunt Belle and Arabella would take the proper carriage around town while Grace was studying with Dr. Hall, and she had been loaned the smaller, three-walled punch coach, that was open in the front, separated by a bench where a driver sat.

It wouldn’t be practical when proper winter settled in, but for now, it was perfect and allotted Grace a fair amount of independence.

“Er, my lady—”

“My name is Grace, Virgil. I insist you use it.”

The young man’s pale cheeks turned bright red.

“Oh no, my lady. I couldn’t.”

“Well, I’m not going to answer to my lady anymore. So, you must call me something else.”

It might be forward or unfair to insist upon, but if Grace was ever going to be seen as someone other than an earl’s daughter or Lady Belle’s niece, well, she needed to put her foot down.

“Er, perhaps I can call you Dr. Sharpe?” he offered, causing Grace’s cheeks to warm in turn.

“Well, I’m not quite a doctor yet.”

“Then, I shall call you Dr. Grace. As it’s not quite correct, but not so informal. Agreed?”

She grinned.

“Very well. Now let’s go.”

Grace climbed into the carriage and sat, as she watched Virgil climb in without much issue and with a few words to the driver, they were off, riding down the road in the same direction Dr. Hall went.

“The university isn’t too far. Really, it can be managed with a walk, but this will get us there faster.”

“Is the constable’s office close as well?”

Virgil shook his head.

“No, that’s up in Maryhill. At least, for now. Rumor has it they’ll be building a new police station over on Craigie Street.” He sighed. “Of course, that’ll be nearly twice as far from Dr. Hall’s office, but luckily the doctor doesn’t mind moving about the city.”

“Tell me,” she said after a few moments of watching the city go by. “How long have you worked for Dr. Hall?”

“Two years now, or, wait. No, just about three. My, the time does go by, doesn’t it?”

“It does. And has he been a kind employer?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Virgil said earnestly, his eyes downcast in the next moment. “It’s why I’m sure he won’t be pleased with me about this business. But if I know anything about the doctor, it’s that he’d be even more upset if I let you go alone. At least now you’ve some protection.”

Grace smiled, pushing off the guilt she felt.

“You’re loyal to him.”

“I am. It was because of him that I’m even alive.”

Grace’s brow lifted.

“Is it?”

“Aye. You see, my father’s a butcher, a successful one too, best in the city. I’ve two other brothers.” He smirked. “But I’m the youngest.”

“I am too.”

Virgil’s smile faded, however, in the next moment.

“A sickness swept through the city some years ago. I was eleven at the time, and just about to start working for my father when it happened. Our whole family became ill, but I was hit the hardest. I couldn’t get out of bed and when the fever and sickness finally subsided, after weeks, mind you, I couldn’t walk. ”

“At all?”

He shook his head.

“Barely. But Dr. Hall had started doing his rounds in my neighborhood. A sort of charity he does, from time to time. You see, it’s not only in poor areas.

My family has done very well,” he said proudly.

“But it was a ravaging illness and the doctor was compelled to help as much as he could during that time.”

“What happened?”

“I was in a great amount of pain, after the fever. My father was sure that if I only got out of bed, I’d regain my strength, but Dr. Hall insisted that I rest, for nearly two months, during which he gave me a number of medicines.

When the pain was controlled, he turned to more medicinal herbs.

” He shook his head. “My mother called it witchcraft, but then she was from the Highlands and as a girl, had heard stories about miraculous recoveries at the hands of healers. Regardless though, Dr. Hall made it so that I could walk again, and while I never fully healed,” he said, gently tapping his right knee with his fist. “I was able to walk. And when I couldn’t help my father in the butchery, he offered me a job at his pharmacy. ”

Grace glanced down at her hands, clasped together in her lap.

So, the doctor had used his aunt’s teaching to help lessen Virgil’s illness.

It was telling, particularly from someone who appeared so severely attached to the idea that modern medicine was the only way to handle the sick.

While there was always room for advancement, Grace was a firm believer in documented recoveries that utilized age-old practices.

For instance, where bloodletting was falling out of fashion as something that could drain poison from the bloodstream, it was common knowledge that mugwort helped relieve inflammation, or mint was used to calm nausea.

Things that were used in everyday households, but Grace had an idea that there was more to the ancient art of healing that modern medicine seemed to ignore.

“Do not feel sorry for me though,” he said, interpreting her clasped hands and downcast gaze for pity. “I’ve learned a great deal from Dr. Hall and am grateful to him. I hope even one day that maybe I…”

Virgil’s mouth snapped shut, seemingly aware that he might be oversharing.

“What is it?”

He shook his head.

“It’s nothing. See,” he said, gesturing with his hand out in front of them as Grace turned. “There’s the university.”

Curious about what Virgil had been leading to, but more so about the autopsy, Grace knocked on the roof of the carriage, causing the driver to come to a halt.

Exiting the vehicle, Grace noted a building made of large gray stone, with a cattycorner entrance and stone figures carved into the exterior walls.

Atop a large, rounded window was the image of a man, holding another man’s arm out.

They were surrounded by eight others, students, Grace guessed, seemingly learning from the first.

“Is this the university?”

“This building? No, but it is where the medical professors have their auditorium. Dr. Hall has performed several surgeries here.”

“Surgeries?” Grace said, unable to keep the excitement out of her tone as they walked across the street to reach the building. “What sort of surgeries?”

“Well, there was this one, particularly gruesome one he was telling me about, involving a bread toaster that—”

“Virgil?” A man’s voice sounded from their left as they reached the sidewalk. They both turned to see recognition flood the doctor’s face. His nostrils flared. “Sharpe.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Virgil said beneath his breath before taking a step in front of Grace, as if to protect her from Dr. Hall’s visible wrath. “Now, see here, she was trying to come here alone.”

“I should fire you,” Dr. Hall said, his voice deep and furious as he came to stand before them as passersby hurried by, giving them curious stares. “The both of you.”

“No, sir, you can’t.”

Grace moved around Virgil with her chin up.