After having the topic broached twice in one day, I began to think all brides experienced a similar torment when it suddenly dawned on me why these two women were so keen to hear about my marital affairs. If Nathan had known within twelve hours that Henry and I were keeping separate rooms, most likely this same information had made it to the Boyles and Oswalds.
Mortified, I forced a smile despite the heat that burned in my cheeks. While Katrina bubbled on about the ball, I sulked in silence at having my personal affairs spread so freely throughout the community. No doubt, the dark mood would have persisted if not for the depth of concern on Martha’s face. What seemed an intolerable invasion of privacy could in fact work to my advantage, as there was nothing more fiercely protected by older ladies than an inexperienced and na?ve girl. Being an orphan and married just under a week, the matrons would naturally want to step in to fill the role of my mother. With how fast the rumors were flying, it wouldn’t be long before someone was assigned to make sure I had been properly taught about the birds and the bees and exactly what it took to start a family.
Common lore also worked in my favor, in particular the belief that witches took great pleasure in beguiling hapless men into bed to satiate their unholy desires. Our separate sleeping arrangements served to demonstrate my virtue, and for many older ladies this would do more to convince them of my innocence than any kind of verbal declaration. Though I was displeased at the idea of a loose-lipped servant living under my roof, the benefits in this case significantly outweighed any damage to my pride.
When late afternoon arrived, I excused myself from the Oswalds and returned to Brighmor, pleased with how much had been accomplished in just two visits. As there were still a couple of hours before supper, I resigned myself trying to make sense of my father’s accounting books in the study. No sooner was my hat removed than Mary bustled up to tell me that people were waiting in the apothecary. I much preferred patients to business and set off at once, rather relieved for the excuse.
William Goodwin, little Ollie Trumble, and Rebecca Stone sat in sullen silence on the wooden bench, all in various states of disrepair. While slipping an apron over my gown, I asked some questions and learned that William was the worst off, having been bitten in the leg by a cantankerous sow, followed by Ollie who had fallen into a patch of poison ivy. Rebecca bore no injuries at all, her tear-streaked face being the result of an injured bird that rested in the covered basket on her lap.
Little Ollie visited my apothecary regularly, coming in no less than once a week. I took him first, thinking that with very little effort he could be on his way. Mary had already lit a fire beneath a small pot of water, and I dropped in several cloves of garlic and a handful of witch hazel to steep while I rushed about collecting the necessary supplies for my three patients. Without needing to be told, Ollie sat down in the only chair and waited to be examined. From the heavy smattering of red welts, his arms and face had clearly gotten the worst of it. I rinsed these with a decoction of jewelweed before rubbing on some salve. Following a stern reprimand to stay out of trouble, he left much happier with his hands full of my remedies to continue treatment at home as needed.
William came in next, limping as he walked over to the chair. I clucked my tongue in mock consternation when he sat down, and received a sheepish grin in return. He looked so much like his younger sister Nora with his dark hair and matching dark eyes, except where she tended to be more plain, he was undeniably handsome. At twenty-one years old and the only son of a successful farmer, the young ladies of Hopewell vied openly for William’s attention. Most men would have reveled in this sort of popularity. Poor William found it a burden as he was painfully shy around girls other than Nora and me. He was very close to his sister and with her being my best friend, the three of us had practically grown up together. When my older brother left Brighmor for the West Indies, it was William’s shoulder I cried on, and his attention I sought out to somehow fill the hole Sean had left in my heart. At one time I had even fancied us more than friends, but knowing it could never work, I buried these particular feelings, and our friendship had remained intact.
“So, what trouble have you gotten into now, William Goodwin?” I teased, kneeling down to get a better look.
“I’m sorry to be such a nuisance. The pig came out of nowhere when I was down working in the lower fields.”
I carefully removed his tattered stocking, revealing a nasty gash. “The leg will have to be sewn. Would you like some whiskey before we start?”
“No, thank you. My mother would never forgive me if I came home smelling of spirits.”