Raven (Gentlemen of the Order #2) - Adele Clee Page 0,50
Sheldon when the elderly man died.”
“And what of Goodwin’s father? Did he practice medicine?”
Finlay could have asked these questions during the journey had they not been preoccupied. “No, he had something to do with the bank and spent most of his time between London and Oxford. I got the impression Mr Goodwin was disappointed in his son’s choice of profession.”
Finlay stroked his beard while he contemplated the information. He pursed his lips and sighed numerous times. Heaven knows what he was thinking, but Sophia wasn’t surprised when he asked another question.
“About Jessica’s illness, did your father ever seek a second opinion? Did he have someone else examine your sister?”
“Lord, no. He trusted no one, feared what would happen to Jessica if people discovered she was suffering from mild insanity. No. Everyone believes Jessica is married to Mr Archer and living abroad.”
Finlay braced his hands on his hips and released a weary sigh. Everything about him, from his rigid stance to his firm jaw, said something was amiss.
“What troubles you?”
“This whole scene.” He gestured to the large thatched house covered in lush green wisteria. “It seems inconsistent with what we know about the doctor.”
“Inconsistent?”
“This isn’t the house of a young professional man in need of funds. Come. Let us see if the doctor is at home. Having whisked his patient from under his nose in the dead of night, he must be frantic with worry.”
Sophia clutched Finlay’s arm, and they walked through a garden of fragrant rose bushes and neatly trimmed topiary. Finlay knocked on the solid oak door. A stout woman with plump cheeks and benevolent eyes answered.
“Might we enquire if the master of the house is at home?” he said.
Sophia wondered why he had not asked for the doctor by name.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
Finlay made the introduction.
The woman nodded, though seemed flustered at the mention of Sophia’s title. “Won’t you wait inside, my lady?” She directed them into the hall, left them standing near the console table sporting a vase of freshly cut flowers, and scuttled away.
“Godstow is a small place. Do you not know the housekeeper?”
Sophia lowered her voice. “No. Mrs Mitchell used to serve the Goodwins. But that was some time ago.”
The housekeeper returned and explained the master was in his study but would gladly see them. She led them into a bright room where the air was as fresh as a summer meadow. The easel in the corner carried a half-finished painting of hollyhock. The moment Sophia’s gaze fell to the man standing behind the desk, her blood ran cold.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us,” Finlay said, his narrowed eyes fixed on the elderly gentleman whose black brows were in stark contrast to his mop of white hair. “We won’t take up too much of your time.”
Sophia’s gaze fell to the desk, to the detailed sketch of a leaf stalk.
“Rhamnus cathartica.” The gentleman placed his sharpened pencil in a tray of drawing implements. “Or the common buckthorn to most. Delicate, but deadly in large amounts. Might I offer you refreshments?”
“Thank you, but no,” Finlay said. “In all honesty, we arrived expecting to meet with someone else. We knew the Goodwins.”
“Ah! Then you’re unaware of Mr Goodwin’s passing. I’m afraid to say it happened some time ago. Rather sudden by all accounts, though I’m not sure if that’s a blessing.”
The gentleman introduced himself as Mr Stapler, a man with an interest in botany who spent his time studying plant species. He rounded the desk and arranged chairs so they might sit.
“God gave us plants so we might heal our ailments,” Mr Stapler continued. “They hold the key to curing countless diseases. Yes, these new surgical procedures are to be commended, but one must ask if cutting into flesh causes other imbalances within the body.” He gestured to the delicate leaf pinned to a board on the desk. “Something so fragile, so relatively insignificant, has a power beyond man’s understanding.”
“You’re passionate about your work,” Finlay said with some admiration.
The doctor laughed and then apologised. “It’s relatively quiet here. One rarely receives visitors. Consequently, one talks far too much.”
Mr Stapler seemed glad to have company. They spent ten minutes discussing Dioscorides’ notes on herbal medicine. Eventually, Finlay cleared his throat and said, “We came looking for Dr Goodwin. The late Mr Goodwin’s only son.”
“Yes, yes. He sold this house to pursue his work in the city. These young men are not suited to the life of a provincial doctor. When one studies in Vienna, Godstow has little