to go.
Rachel stared at the closed library door for what seemed an eternity, but must have only been mere minutes. She should walk away right now, pack her carpetbag and leave. Not that she had anywhere to go. She had returned from Finchingfield to a note from Claire saying her brother had discovered she’d pawned her ring and was so angry he’d banished her to the family estate in Weymouth. Rachel had no one to turn to now and only a few shillings to her name, Joe having sent Claire’s money to Ireland as he’d promised. She could hardly leave without receiving the salary Dr. Edmunds owed her . . . and would never pay if she abruptly quit. But heavens, how she wished she could march out the front door and never have to face him again. Cease to feel the yearning that stretched her taut as a fiddle string. He wanted to kiss her.
She wanted him to fall in love with her.
Rachel picked up the book she had dropped and placed it upon the desk just as Joe scampered into the library.
“Eh, miss, the blokes from the movin’ agency ’ave just come with the crates . . .” Joe cocked his head to peer at her. “Aw, don’ go lookin’ all glum about that. I’ll ’elp you wiv ’em.”
“It’s not the crates, Joe,” she answered. “I am just a little sad that I shall be leaving you all soon.”
“You knows we’ll all miss you terrible too. ’cept Moll, I s’pose,” he added honestly, with a wicked grin. “An’ mebbe Peg.”
Rachel smiled; it was better than crying. “I will recover from my melancholy.”
“I’m glad to ’ear that. ’ate to see you sad. ’specially with Molly still green an’ the master stalkin’ around, ready to bite off someone’s ’ead like ’e’s mad at the world—”
“Yes, well, send the man from the moving agency up, will you, Joe?” She interrupted Joe to avoid hearing about Dr. Edmunds’s foul mood, even if she felt some satisfaction in the knowledge he might be sad too.
“I’ve had another patient die from the cholera, James,” said Thaddeus, sawing away at a perfectly fine cut of beef like it was a chewy, overcooked shank of mutton. He stabbed the freed piece with his fork. “That makes three for me. Much worse than the outbreak in spring.”
“Two of my charity cases have succumbed as well,” James replied. He’d had one recover and live, though he was at a loss to explain why. The timely use of Miss Dunne’s mysterious tonic, the one her mother claimed cured every stomach ill, might have been the reason. He would like to talk to her about the tonic and his patients, but they had avoided each other these past few days. Life in the house had been easier, but not pleasant. He only had himself to blame.
“The disease is moving fast in this heat,” James said, ignoring his own food turning cold on his plate. “I hear they’re scattering lime in the streets in St. Giles.”
“Maybe that will stop the disease from moving farther west. You’d never know there was an outbreak in town, watching these fellows.” Thaddeus waved his fork in the general direction of the chophouse crowd, neither ranks nor vigor visibly diminished by the disease. Waiters in white aprons hurried between tables, arms laden with plates. Associates called to each other across the room, smoked cigars, and hunkered over papers while they ate. At a nearby table, a newspaper headline tallied the latest fatalities. The press had begun to change their tune.
“They all know there’s not much to be done to prevent the spread,” said James, the familiar press of helplessness weighing heavily. “They may as well go on about their lives as normal.”
“It’s the poor Irish and their filthy slums. The miasma lifting off their hovels will strike us all down, I fear.”
A lump hard as a fist jammed in James’s throat. “I’ve heard it proposed it’s coming from the Thames.”
“Little does it matter. The cholera won’t pass until winter sets in. I’m just glad Louisa convinced me to send her to Bath. You should probably send Amelia and Mrs. Woodbridge away too. Just to be safe.” Thaddeus paused to chew his bite of food. “Louisa sends her greetings, by the way.”
“Send her mine in return, when next you write.”
“Nothing further?” Thaddeus asked, still sounding hopeful.
“Nothing further, Castleton.”
“If you insist.” Thaddeus frowned and washed down the beef with a drink of soda water. “Hey, what the .