Forbidden: A Regency Box Set
Rachel Van Dyken & Kelly Martin & Nadine Millard & Kristin Vayden
CHAPTER ONE
"Yes, Mrs. Callahan, I understand that it hurts but I really do think removing it is a little excessive."
Mariah repressed the urge to bash the older woman with her own reticule and tell her to stop being ridiculous.
Dr. Bolton, Mariah's father, had a packed surgery today as he did every other day and though it was unorthodox he allowed Mariah to help out every so often, like this morning.
As the only surgeon in their small village, as well as the only apothecary, Dr. Bolton was constantly in demand. He was coming to rely on his eldest daughter's head for medicine more and more, though Mrs. Bolton despaired of them both.
But really, it wasn't as though this were London or even one of the big cities of York or Edinburgh. This was a village in Lancashire, where Mariah had lived her whole life.
It wasn't the done thing at all for a young lady to be working in her father's surgery. But everyone here had known Mariah her whole life and trusted her implicitly.
Besides, they would rather be fixed up quickly than hang about waiting for potions and poultices that would take much longer just for the sake of propriety.
Usually Mariah loved helping out. She got to use her talents for herbs and see plenty of her friends and their families at the same time.
Usually it was enjoyable. Today it was nothing short of painful.
"But the pain, Mariah," whined Mrs. Callahan.
Mariah sighed inwardly then tried again. Every week it was some new malady. Every week there was some dramatic ailment or other. This one, however, was amongst the most ridiculous.
"I understand, Mrs. Callahan, really I do. Burns can be very sore indeed. But I promise you, applying this cream will set you to right in mere days. Wouldn't you rather that than lose a finger? How will you bake your delicious pies and cakes without your finger?"
Mrs. Callahan, mercifully, seemed to get momentarily distracted by the compliment and Mariah pressed her advantage.
"The Christmas Fete will be a total disaster without your baked goods as you well know. And our vicar is far too old and fragile to deal with such a disaster, do you not think?"
Mrs. Callahan tried and failed to suppress her gleeful smile.
"Yes, I suppose you are right, my dear. Nobody could deal with the sheer volume of baking. And I am, after all, the only one with the secret recipes. But it is terribly sore," she demanded, making sure Mariah still knew how she suffered.
As if I could forget! "I am sure it is and I can tell you, on behalf of the whole of Wymouth, we appreciate you struggling on to save the Fete."
At this, Mrs. Callahan beamed once again.
Gathering up the cream and her variety of belongings, she bid a valiant farewell and bustled outside, forgetting to clutch her hand as she had been doing on the way in.
Mariah heaved a sigh of relief and went back to her cough remedy. This one was in high demand and Mariah wanted to make sure she had plenty at hand.
A cool wind signalled the arrival of someone else through the door and she looked up with some trepidation.
Even Mrs. Callahan couldn't have injured herself in the past twenty seconds!
Thankfully, it was merely the vicar's wife.
"Good morning, Mrs. Yates," Mariah greeted her with a smile.
"Good morning, Mariah. How pretty you look today."
Mariah smiled at the compliment, the same one she'd been hearing from Mrs. Yates since she had been a small child.
"What can I do for you today? Is the vicar's gout bothering him again?"
"Oh, no, my dear. Your elixir is truly working wonders with him. No, I've come with rather a strange request. I wonder if we might speak privately for a moment?"
Mariah's interest was immediately piqued.
"Yes of course, come through," she said, leading the way to a small sitting room at the back of where she kept her supplies.
Only moments before, she had brewed a pot of tea, and thankfully it was still warm, so she set about pouring some for them both.
Once they'd settled down with their teacups, Mariah looked at Mrs. Yates expectantly, her hazel eyes shining with curiosity.
"I wonder if you've heard that somebody has bought Greywood Manor."
"Oh, really? Why that's wonderful," enthused Mariah.
Greywood Manor had been the seat of the only Peer that had ever lived near their small village. Old Sir Thomas, a baron, had died without ever having an heir of his own and apparently some distant nephew or cousin or other had inherited.
The village gossip was that the nephew, or cousin, was a bit of a gambler and had immediately set about trying to sell the place to fund his habit.
Mariah had been fifteen when Sir Thomas had passed away and in the five years since there'd been no word of a buyer.