Page 6 of Grace in Glasgow (Seduced in Scotland #3)

I t had taken James all of two minutes from leaving Lady Belle’s home yesterday to come up with a plan to scare Grace into reconsidering her apprenticeship with him.

Gallowgate was not only one of the poorest neighborhoods in Glasgow, but one rife with disease.

Crooks, thieves, women of ill repute, and more had descended on that part of the city; well, not so much descended on as had been forced there.

It was one thing to be a country doctor, who took care of expectant mothers and fevers and farming accidents.

It was another thing entirely to come to a city, teeming with sickness and the morally depraved.

The Gallowgate barracks, for instance, were overpopulated and crowded, with dozens of “sporting women” moving in and out of their own volition.

Usually, James wouldn’t have even considered bringing a lady like Grace to a place so dangerous, but he had an idea. If he could scare her enough to the point where she would admit that this work was too much for her, he might be able to avoid teaching her altogether.

But when he arrived at her house just as the sun was rising the next morning, he found a determined, if not a sleepy looking Grace, waiting for him.

She was dressed in a faded black gown that covered her from toe to neck.

Her hair was parted down the middle and pulled back, and a lace bonnet covered the ball of hair at the back of her head.

She appeared as severe as well as someone so eager, and James found himself unwittingly embarrassed by the determination in her eyes.

“Good morning, Miss Sharpe,” he said as he climbed out of the hackney.

He held the door open as she climbed in and he waved to Mrs. Stevens, who grimaced at him before turning back in through the doorway.

“Good morning, Dr. Hall,” Grace said as he settled back across the hired hackney from her, the scent of cool, crisp mint distracting him for a moment. “I trust that I’ve dressed to an acceptable standard?”

He tried to push the pleasant aroma out of his mind.

Mint, in particular water mint, was an herb that his Aunt Flora had always used in his teas.

It reminded him of the mountain streams where he played as a boy, but this wasn’t the time or place to reminisce.

Instead, he focused on answering her question.

“Yes, you have.”

Seemingly pleased, she sat with her back pin straight as the hackney made its way through the city.

They rode mostly in silence and while they rarely caught one another’s eye, James couldn’t help but glance at her from time to time, wondering why she seemed so calm.

Remembering his first visit to Gallowgate, he had been rather nervous.

He had only been in Glasgow a day before Dr. Barkley insisted that they visit all of the slums of the city, every day, to drive home his belief that the study of medicine was the study of humanity.

He had been particularly philosophical ten years ago, when he had taught James and though they had some healthy debates on the practice of medicine, the reason for practicing never wavered.

It was to help their fellow man, regardless of their lot in life.

He stared at Grace as the fringe from her wrap shook as they drove over cobblestone.

“May I ask you something, Miss Sharpe?”

She stared directly at him.

“Yes, Dr. Hall.”

“Why do you want to be a doctor?”

Apparently, that had been unexpected as she blinked at him before glancing away.

“Dr. Hall, I appreciate that you do not think I know my own mind, but I assure you, I know what I want, and no amount of trying to convince me otherwise will be fruitful.”

“I do not mean to talk you out of it. I simply wish to know your reasoning behind such a decision.” She gave him a disbelieving expression. “You could be a nurse. There are some brilliant nurses who do your gender a justice.”

That was perhaps the wrong thing to say, as Grace’s mouth pressed into a flat line and she glanced back out the window before answering.

“Every and any argument you have about this is not new to me. There is nothing you could say that would make me miraculously change my mind. I have heard them all, dozens of times.”

“But I asked you a question.”

“Which you followed up with a suggestion, one you undoubtedly believe to be helpful. It just tells me that you’re more interested in your own opinion than finding out anything about me.

” She shook her head. “If you don’t want to know why I want to be a doctor, then I will not tell you.

I’ve no desire defending myself for the next six months against your helpful suggestions. ”

James did not move, but instead stared at her. This was insubordinate behavior, to say the least, and if she were a man, he’d remove her from studying beneath him, yet it bothered him that she thought he didn’t want to know her reason for becoming a professional woman.

She had to know it was abnormal. How many working women did she know? How many did he know? Very few and even then, it was always a topic of discussion.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and the movement caught her attention. How curious her eye color was, he mused for a moment. Were they amber? Hazel? He didn’t know, but he cleared his throat before he spoke.

“Tell me. Why do you want to be a doctor?”

She stared at him for a moment and he was surprised that he was waiting to exhale before she sighed heavily.

“I want… No, I can help people,” she said slowly, seemingly choosing her words carefully.

“I have a mind for it. And what’s more, it interests me.

How some bodies react to illnesses, how others don’t.

” Her brows cinched together as her eyes unfocused.

“I’ve been very interested in the spread of fevers for as long as I can remember and I’ve been so sure that, if I could follow a sickness, somehow I could map it out and learn what is needed to prevent it or cure it.

” She shook her head. “I understand anatomy. Bones, muscles, skin. It’s as plain to me as the English language and…

I don’t know… I feel it is a calling to help people.

I can help people,” she said again, her eyes meeting his once more.

“I want to help my fellow man and I think I should be allowed to do so, particularly if I’m skilled enough. ”

Well, at the very least that was the answer he had hoped to hear, but as he watched her, he was momentarily lost. Her eyes were amber, he decided.

Pulling out a small glass vial from his breast pocket, he opened it and placed his forefinger over the opening.

Tipping it over, he made sure the pad of his finger was saturated before he dabbed the citrusy oil beneath his nose.

Grace stared at him curiously, but before she could ask what he was doing, he tipped the glass again, rubbed the oil between his forefinger and thumb and leaned forward.

Without asking, he gently pinched Grace’s top lip.

She inhaled sharply, but she did not move.

Instead, she remained perfectly still, her eyes completely focused on him. He swallowed hard.

“W-what is it?”

“It’s to dampen the stench,” he said as the hackney came to a stop. “I use it when I visit patients who aren’t in the best of sorts. Decay can be a foul smell. Shall we?” he asked gruffly as he opened the door and climbed out, grabbing his large leather bag as he did so.

The pungent scent of rotting vegetables, mixed with other foul wastes, was magnified under the morning sun, but diluted somewhat by the lime oil he had rubbed beneath his nostrils.

Their first stop was the tenant housing for the factory workers’ family.

What had initially been a clever idea for cheap housing had exploded into quarters too tight to house whole families. It was a breeding ground for illnesses.

Grace’s hand touched James’s forearm as she exited the hackney.

It was inconsequential, really. He hadn’t even realized that he had held his arm up for her, but then she removed her hand and he felt suddenly untethered, as if he was just about to have a cup of perfectly made tea and then dropped it on the floor without sampling a drop.

It was most puzzling, but then he didn’t have time to wonder about it. Reactions were human, after all, and she was about to have a number of them once they entered into the building.

Even though it was early, nearly all the men had already left for their factory jobs, save a few who were ill or injured. Grace was silent as she followed James into the building and directly to the first door. He knocked.

A woman, not much older than Grace, who was holding two screaming babies that appeared to be twins, opened the door. Another child, a boy, hugged the woman’s legs.

“Good morning, Mrs. Monty,” James said. “How are you?”

“It’s the bairns. They’ve both got fevers and were up all night. Poor Mr. Monty barely got a wink of sleep.”

“Let me see one,” James said. “Miss Sharpe, take the other.”

But the woman, who readily handed off one red-headed child to James, twisted away from Grace as her small son scurried across the room, dropping to his knees beneath the window where a number of small pieces of rubbish were lined neatly against the wall.

“Who’s she?” Mrs. Monty asked.

“She’s my assistant for the day.”

“Assistant? A woman? Like Mrs. Muller?”

“Who is Mrs. Muller?” Grace asked.

“She’s an elderly woman, one of the workers’ mothers. She acts as a sort of nurse in our absence.”

“ Our ?” Mrs. Monty repeated. “Wot you mean our?”

James glanced at Grace, who had a clear, impassive face.

“Miss Sharpe is studying to become a doctor and she is quite good with fevers. I’d let her see your bairn if you want Mr. Monty to get any sleep tonight.”