The Healing Season. Ruth Morren Axtell
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importantly, she was lovely inside, too, where it matters most.”
“And you were her best friend?” asked Sarah the way she always did at that point.
“Yes. Although she was about five years older than I, we became fast friends from the day we met. We told each other everything, just the way you and I do now. She was married when I first met her. She’d made the most brilliant match, a true love match. Why, it was more romantic even than Princess Charlotte’s to Prince Leopold.”
She could feel Sarah shiver beneath her arm. “Ooh! How romantic! How did they meet?”
“It’s funny, because in a way it was the same as the princess met the prince. Your father, too, came from a far-off land similar to Coburg. Transylvania, deep in the Carpathian Mountains.”
“Transylvania,” breathed Sarah. The very syllables sounded romantic.
“Count Otto von Ausberg from Transylvania was tall, dark and handsome. He had the bearing of a prince. Oh, did he look handsome in his gold-braided uniform, just like we saw Prince Leopold when he first came over to court Princess Charlotte!”
They smiled at the memory of seeing him beside Princess Charlotte, waving at the crowds from a balcony at Carlton House, when he was the Prince Regent’s special guest.
Eleanor sighed to heighten the drama of the tale. “Alas, your papa was a poor, impoverished nobleman like Prince Leopold when he first came to London.
“Your mama’s parents, on the other hand, were ever so rich. They disapproved of a match between your parents. But your mama and papa were so very much in love. Finally, they were forced to run away together. They were poor, but so happy together.
“I never saw a couple as happy as they—until they had you!” She turned to Sarah. “You can’t imagine any more joy, but there it was. When you arrived, they were even more full of joy.”
Sarah’s smile disappeared. “But then came the sad part.”
“Yes, my dear, then came the sad part. They both died from an awful outbreak of fever that year. Your mother first then, within a week, your father. I had taken you away at the first sign of illness. Your mother begged me to. She didn’t want you catching it, you were such a wee baby.”
“Why didn’t you keep me as your own?”
“Oh, my dear, how I wish I could have, but I was just a girl myself. I had no husband. So I did the next best thing I could. I found a couple for you to stay with. Mama and Papa Thornton could offer you a nice home and family until someday you would be grown up enough to come and live with me. Since the day I brought you here, I’ve come and visited you every week.”
“Yes. I do so love your visits.” Sarah played with the tassel at the end of her parasol. “What about Mama’s family?”
“Her parents had died after your mama ran away. They had no other children, so there was no help from anyone on that side. You were all alone in the world.” She wondered if Sarah would still believe every detail of this story as she got older. Eleanor hoped that with the repetition, each fact would become so engrained in Sarah’s memory, it would be impossible to question the veracity of the tale.
She patted her knees. “Well, we’d best continue back. Mama and Papa Thornton will wonder what’s keeping us. We don’t want to be late for tea.”
Sarah scurried up and gave Eleanor a hand. The two dusted the grass off each other’s skirts, then headed back to the carriage.
When they arrived at the prosperous farmhouse where Sarah lived, they were greeted by a married daughter of the Thorntons who had come by for a visit. Sarah ran off to show the woman’s two daughters her new parasol. Eleanor followed Mrs. Thornton and her daughter to the large kitchen in the back.
Mrs. Thornton poured them each a cup of tea. “Eleanor, you mustn’t bring Sarah so many fancy gifts each time you come to visit her. Her wardrobe can scarcely contain the gowns she has.”
“Oh, Louisa, I can’t help it. I see something pretty and I immediately think of Sarah.”
“It’s not right,” Mrs. Thornton said with a shake of her head. “She needs to live at her station. Look at my daughter Lydia’s children. They’re not poor by any means. They’re well dressed, clean and proper behaved. You couldn’t ask for anything more. But they’re not rich and they don’t go acting as if they are.”
Lydia nodded in agreement.
Eleanor pursed her lips. This subject had come up more than once of late. She looked forward to the day she could take Sarah away for good to live with her. Soon.
“Well, in another year or two, Sarah will be going away to Miss Hillary’s Academy for Young Ladies,” Eleanor replied in her most soothing tone. “There she will be on an equal footing with all the young ladies.”
“Humph,” was all Mrs. Thornton said. But she didn’t remain silent long. After a sip of tea, she added, “What good will it do Sarah to study amongst all those lords’ and ladies’ daughters, when she don’t come from the same world? When they have their come-outs, where will Sarah be? Right back in this village but with notions way above her station. She won’t be able to follow her new friends from the young ladies’ academy. They certainly won’t welcome her into their circle when they know her humble parentage. No high-and-mighty lord will have her for his wife.”
“There are plenty of respectable young gentlemen she can marry,” countered Eleanor, who had given her daughter’s future lots of thought over the years. “She could marry a solicitor or a—a—doctor—” A fleeting image of the one she had recently met invaded her thoughts. “There are many men who are not of the ton, but who are gentlemen nonetheless.”
“But will she have them if her head has been filled up with such notions of society, starting with all these tales of her own ma and dad? I’ve been saying it for years, dear Eleanor, you haven’t done her any good telling her those Banbury tales.”
Eleanor gave a careless laugh. “Louisa, you worry too much. I have it all figured out. Sarah will go to Miss Hillary’s school and she’ll move to London with me. By then I shall have a nice place in Mayfair. When it’s time for her come-out, I shall put out discreet inquiries and I’m sure we’ll meet several eligible young bachelors.”
“Who’ll be wanting to know the amount of her dowry.”
Eleanor sat up straighter in the ladder-back chair. “I have been putting money away for her since she was an infant. She’ll have her dowry.”
Once again Mrs. Thornton harrumphed, but said no more.
Chapter Six
Ian walked into the operating theater at St. Thomas’s promptly at ten o’clock the next morning. The semicircular, amphitheater-style viewing area known as the “standings” was already crammed. Students, fellow surgeons, interns, some physicians and apothecaries stood leaning against the wooden railings on each of the five tiers rising from the operating floor.
The front row was reserved for the dressers of the other surgeons. His own, as well as his apprentices, already stood around the operating table, a plain, stout deal table half-covered in a sheet of oilcloth.
He glanced at its end. Good, no outside visitors today. Usually these special guests of his colleagues sat in chairs at one end of the operating table, but today they stood empty.
The hum of voices diminished only somewhat as he walked to the wooden pegs by the entrance. He removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. Then he donned the coat hanging by the door. It was stiff with dried blood. He turned up its collar to protect his neck cloth. Over the coat he tied on a grocer’s bib and apron, then proceeded to wash his hands in the basin. Most surgeons laughed at this last step, but Ian’s fastidious nature demanded this measure both before and after surgery.
Ian walked to the table for his inspection. Sunlight