The Infamous Bride (32 page)

R.J. said firmly, "It is decided, Juliet. You must stop attending directly to the work of the orphanage. I will convince Phineas to hire a director. I will fund it if I must."

She gazed into his eyes, the intensity of her emotions vibrating through her. "The children at the orphanage know my name. They smile when they see me. And they need me."

"You must take Annabel's counsel. She understands — "

"I have done everything I have been told." She pulled at the drab and undecorated collar of her gown, wishing she had a row of buttons there to pull from the gown and toss at him. "I dress as if I had no need for color or beauty."

He pressed his lips together, looking too much like his father when emotions had made him uncomfortable. She shivered, wondering if he planned to keep the same solemn quiet that his father favored in their own household. If they ever set up an independent household.

At last, he said, "Perhaps a pretty bonnet would help?"

She stood up from the table abruptly. "I've found something that makes me happy. Don't take it away from me. Don't take me away from those children. They need me."

"I need you at home." His face was bland and implacable, as if he thought by simply repeating himself, she would do as he commanded.

"You are not home until late most nights. Why should I come home early from the orphanage when the children need me so much and you do not? I do not need to run this home; it is not my home, it is Annabel's. It is your father's."

"You should be home because you are my wife." He thought that all the answer necessary. But she did not.

"Your prisoner, you mean. You stay in your cage if you like it so much. I intend to do more than that." Her words were harsh and she wished them back as soon as they left her throat.

If her words had wounded him, she could see no sign when he said. "I am not asking anything unreasonable from you — "

Susannah, who had remained with her eyes fastened to her plate during Juliet's scolding, stood up as abruptly as Juliet. "I will accompany you when you go to the orphanage. Then the gossips will have nothing to gossip about."

"I forbid it." Annabel's voice was stern, but it was no match for the determination in Susannah's eyes.

The girl said simply, "I have learned all the deportment, music and dance lessons any young woman must learn. I will be able to join you tomorrow."

"Thank you." Juliet gave her a regal nod worthy of a duchess as she swept out of the room. To think she had all but accused the girl of having an affair with the doctor, when in truth her interest in the orphans was simply a sign of tenderheartedness. How fortunate that she had not confided her suspicions to R.J. The traitorous man. He thought he would confine her to this house, while he confined himself to his business. She would not allow him to think he would win that battle.

* * * * *

The child slept soundly on her shoulder. Her throat ached from singing, and there were tears in her eyes at the thought of leaving them here tonight. Little lambs innocently asleep, safe now. But tomorrow would come. Harsh, cold morning. No one to hold them and love them. Just a quick cold wash of the hands, face, and neck and a familiar bowl of porridge and a lukewarm cup of tea.

She had to find a way to do more for them than this. These children needed parents to love them, to protect them. Short of that, they needed to know that Wellburn would not close its doors and leave them on the street. Could the benefit she imagined possibly collect enough? It must.

"Let me put her to bed, Mrs. Hopkins." Dr. Abernathy came from behind her, and she just barely suppressed her start of surprise. He walked like a cat. Which was probably a good thing here. No doubt he managed to come upon mischief in the making and put a stop to it all the earlier.

She relinquished the child reluctantly. "She was crying for her mother."

"She is new here. She will soon learn that will do her no good." His voice was flat with exhaustion. A month trying to get the orphanage to succeed had worn him down. "R.J. has indicated that your reputation is at risk. He has asked me to release you from your sense of duty to the children."

"How can you be so heartless as to put scurrilous gossip ahead of these children?" She knew the accusation was not fair even as she leveled it. She could see for herself that the work here was never enough and never done. She taught children their letters, to sing, and simple addition and subtraction. She sang them to sleep at night. Every day they struggled for enough money to keep food in the cupboards and coal in the stove. And R.J. thought she could simply walk away from the work that must be done.

The doctor smiled wearily. "You know as well as I that people will talk. We have both felt the sting of unkind and jealous tongues. Me for my marriage to a woman of wealth and you for your daring to shine your natural beauty among the cream of society. You needn't worry, Mrs. Hopkins, the orphanage is not your concern. You have done more than these children — or I — could have hoped. You may go home with a clear conscience."

"The state of my conscience is not your concern. The happiness of these children — what I can do for them — is my concern." Juliet said no more. He would not believe her words until she proved it with action. He was a man of action himself and judged others accordingly. "Susannah has offered to help. I will bring her tomorrow. That should stop the rumors."

He began to object.

"Think of the children."

The flare of objection in his face quickly burned out. "As you wish. But perhaps it would be wiser to bring Annabel."

Juliet did not wish to be rude, so she said in vague reassurance, "I will keep a close eye on Susannah. She has a tender heart. As long as you do not encourage her, she will be safe."

He did not pretend to misunderstand her warning. His reply contained no indirection. "I would be too tired, I assure you, Mrs. Hopkins, seduce an idealistic, determined young woman like Susannah."

She thought of how she crawled into bed exhausted at night, glad to wrap herself around R.J., to make love in a sweet, dreamlike fog until she slept. No, if she allowed Susannah to help, she would have to be vigilant, for all their sakes.

Juliet sorted through the post, picking out several bills to pay before Phineas could see them. His shoulders drooped every time a large bill came due and he had to consult the ledger to see if the accounts could squeezed a little more tightly. But the grocer and the butcher would not deliver if they were not paid. She stopped in surprise at one letter, addressed to the doctor's apprentice. Even though she had only glimpsed him here and there as she went about her duties, she realized now that she had not seen him in at least a week's time.

"Susannah, have you seen Dr. Abernathy's apprentice today?"

The laundry slipped from the girl's arms as she halted in mid-stride and stared at Juliet as if she'd asked if the moon had come for a visit. "Apprentice?" Giving herself a shake, Susannah stammered, "No. I have not seen him. Why?"

"He has a letter." Juliet stuffed the bills she did not want Phineas to see in the pocket of her apron and hurried to find the doctor.

He was just returning from a visit to a private patient, bag in hand. She didn't wait until he had removed his hat before she asked, "Is your apprentice with you?"

He gave Susannah, who had trailed after Juliet, leaving the fallen laundry behind, a startled glance. "No, he is not."

Had the apprentice committed some fault that she had not heard of? Juliet impatiently waved the thick envelope she held. "He has received a letter from New York that looks quite important. It bears the stamp of a medical school." She peered at the letter again. "Geneva Medical College. Should I have it forwarded to his rooms?"

Susannah stepped forward, "I can see that he gets it."

Juliet's suspicions aroused. Firstly, the pair of them were nervous. Secondly, "How well do you know him, Susannah?" Had her suspicions been pinned on the doctor when she should have looked to the apprentice as the keeper of Susannah's heart? Her mind tripped through a number of highly suspicious facts that she had not noted before: Susannah was surprisingly comfortable at the orphanage. Juliet had kept a careful eye out for the girl, and she had seen nothing to indicate that Susannah was secretly meeting the good doctor. And yet, Susannah knew where the towels were kept, where the mops were, and how to turn the leaky faucet just so, in order to prevent a jet of uncontrolled water in her face.

Phineas understood the direction of her thoughts well before Susannah. He stepped forward, his arm outstretched. "There has been no impropriety between them, I assure you."

"No?" Juliet stared at Susannah, whose glance fell to her hands, twisting in her skirts. "I am glad to hear it. I hope you will forgive me if I insist on hearing it from the apprentice himself."

"There is no need." Phineas reached for the letter.

Juliet tucked the apprentice's letter deep in her apron pocket with the bills, and shoved the rest of the correspondence into his hands. "It will be no trouble, I assure you," she lied, thinking of R.J.'s reaction if it were to come to light that his sister had been secretly meeting a penniless doctor's apprentice. Would he forgive Juliet for not protecting Susannah from herself?

Susannah's attitude shifted abruptly. She met Juliet's eyes defiantly. "It will be more trouble than you know."

Phineas said softly, "Miss Hopkins, perhaps it is time to reveal the truth."

Juliet turned on him. "You knew? You permitted this? How could you?"

He smiled ruefully. "The passion of youth is a compelling thing, Mrs. Hopkins, as you well know."

She did indeed. "Susannah, your affection for a young man so unsuitable is not the same as the connection your brother and I shared." Juliet struggled to find reasons for the unsuitability, until Susannah began to laugh.

Regaining her dignity with an effort, Susannah at last said. "You are right. There is no comparison. Wait here while I fetch the doctor's apprentice for you and you will see for yourself." Before Juliet or Phineas could object, Susannah had whirled out of the room.

Juliet was left with only Phineas upon whom to vent her wrath. "R.J. will never forgive you. Annabel will see you ruined for this. What could you have been thinking?"

He hung his hat on the peg more calmly than seemed justified. "Perhaps we should go into my office while we await my apprentice."

"I am going nowhere," Juliet crossed her arms.

He smiled, his infuriatingly charming smile. "We don't want the children, or any visitors, to overhear this conversation, do we Mrs. Hopkins."

She followed him reluctantly, but did not sit in the chair he indicated. Her mind raced through the explanations she might give R.J. to prevent him from tearing the audacious apprentice limb from limb.

Any thought of R.J. fled her mind though, when the apprentice, mutton chops and all, stepped into the room and held out a hand. "My letter, please, Mrs. Hopkins." The voice was husky and would have fooled a stranger. But not Juliet.

"Susannah. What have you done? It is not a game to pass yourself off as a man. Do you know the scandal you might cause if anyone knew?" She glared at Phineas.

"I assure you it is not a game to me. But it is what I must do if I would go to medical school." She wagged her hand as imperiously as her father or brother might have done. "My letter?"

So she was serious about becoming a doctor? Juliet could not doubt it. Puzzling things that had happened around the orphanage now became clear. When one of the children fell ill, Susannah took charge, as if she knew just what to do, though she did not have any younger sisters to have practiced upon, as Juliet had.

If Susannah had been born a man, Juliet would have thought her well suited to become a physician. But she was not a man. She fished the letter out of her apron pocket and handed it over. "Surely you do not think you can act as a man through medical school without someone unmasking you?"

Susannah ripped open the letter and read it silently, the false goatee glued to her chin vibrating with determination. She looked up, triumph gleaming in her eyes. "They have accepted me."

"You cannot seriously plan to attend medical school?" Juliet pictured the years of pretense, the entire repudiation of self and family.

Susannah smiled, crushing the letter of acceptance to her heart. "I am going to do my best."

Phineas said softly, "I have advised her against it. But she is set upon it."

"You helped her with this?" Juliet thought of how she had been relieved that the doctor and Susannah had not been making secret assignations. Compared to this, a mere affair would have been less scandalous.

He defended himself briskly. "She dressed up and came to interview for my apprenticeship. If I had not hired her, she would have tried one of the other doctors in town."

"Why did you not tell R.J.?"

He laughed softly. "For the same reason you did not confide your concerns about Susannah and me to him. Because I assumed she would come to her senses. I thought she would find the work daunting and change her mind on her own."

Susannah laughed triumphantly. "But I did not, did I."

"No, you did not." The doctor shook his head in weary admiration, and met Juliet's eyes unwaveringly. "She will be a fine doctor. If she succeeds in her attempt to pass herself off as a man."

"No wonder I've never seen your apprentice and Susannah here together." She looked at the girl through fresh eyes. Though she had a sick feeling that her world might come tumbling down, still she had to admire her for managing the feat of having a double life as a man without a soul in the household stumbling upon her secret.

"You know you must tell R.J.? And your parents?"

Susannah crossed her arms defiantly. "Must I?"

"What will you have them think when you take up life as a man at school? Were you going to leave them to think you'd been kidnapped? Murdered? Run away?"

Tears made the girl's eyes shine, and she bowed her head. "I thought I would manufacture an invitation from one of the young women I met in London, and pretend to be looking for a husband under the auspices of a family of influence."