Roses and Flames

Chapter 13

Ambrosia watched the London streets passing by outside the carriage window and tapped her foot impatiently on the boards beneath the seat. It was really too much to bear.

Before making her come out, it had been drummed into her by her Aunt Jordan that her future depended on her ability to be pleasant. It was almost as important as looks and much more important than intelligence. Men might marry a beautiful ninnyhammer, as long as she hung on their words and did not correct them. But a shrew would be a shrew, long after looks faded.

So Ambrose had done her best to be good company. And though she could not keep herself from arguing, she always did it with a smile on her face. Perhaps that was why the men in her life were treating her like a child, alternately scolding and humouring her, thinking that they could render her agreeable to what they wanted. Because she did not look angry, they did not believe she was serious.

Father was clearly lying about what he knew of Patrick. Patrick was equally evasive when it came to the truth of his feelings for her, changing from hot to cold and back again so suddenly that she could hardly understand him.

And the Duke? She smiled in spite of herself. He would appoint the devil himself as a personal physician if he thought it would bring her any closer to accepting his offer. At least the man was consistent. But since she did not love him, his opinion hardly signified.

The carriage pulled to a stop outside the inn where Patrick was staying. It was another piece of nonsense that he had refused his old room, remaining aloof in a place that could not be half as nice as home. Even worse, she had been forced to worm the location of it from the coachman who had taken him away. Patrick had left no direction for her and her father had announced that he had no idea where to find the man, nor was he bothered by his ignorance.

Now that she was here, she told her Banbury tale to the hostler and was shown to the room where Patrick had gone to ground. She knocked smartly on the door and heard the answering ‘come’ from the other side. Perhaps he was expecting a maid with his dinner.

She smiled to herself. He was certainly not expecting her. But he must learn to like surprises. She opened the door and swept into the room, her smart day dress swirling around her. “ Good afternoon, Dr. Hastings. I have come to continue our discussion in private.”

“Ambrose.” He rose from the desk where he had been seated and a prayer book tumbled to the floor, brushed from the table in front of him.

She had not known him to be particularly religious, but people altered with time. He probably did not think of her as a sophisticated debutante. When he’d left, she had been a scapegrace companion with manners no better than his. But the change in her should not have shocked him this much. He was backing away from the door as though he meant to brace his shoulders against the wall. He had the look of a startled animal. But a thoroughly masculine animal, if she was to be honest. He was out of his coat, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to keep the grime from his cuffs. She could see muscles in those arms, and shoulders more broad and strong than she had imagined. She swallowed and remembered, for just a moment, why one did not court impropriety by forcing one’s way into a gentleman’s room for a private interview.

But the gentleman was Patrick. And no matter what might happened between them, she did not fear it.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, wary. “And why were you even allowed above stairs? The innkeeper will think you a common trollop for behaving so.”

“Nonsense,” she said and gave him a wink, trying to coax a smile from him.” I told him that we were family. Is it not natural for a sister to visit a brother?”

He made a strange, strangled noise, as though he could not quite master his speech, and then said weakly,” It was still very wrong of you.”

“But I could not allow you to leave me in anger. I do not want to part this way. I do not want to part at all.” She glanced at the sea chest on the floor. It was clear that he was packing again.” And I certainly do not want you to go as you did before, without a word.”

For a moment, her voice sounded strange as well. If she was not careful, she would break down in front of him and beg him to stay. Excess emotion was effective against Father. But Patrick would likely think she was shamming and put her out of the room.

She conquered her tears, before they could escape. Running down the back of her throat, they tasted very like the ones she had shed when he had first left her. She did not cry anymore. Gentleman might be moved by a weeping woman, but they did not like her nearly as well as a smiling one. She dropped her head a bit so that she might appear demure and properly sorry for getting above herself.” I will talk no more of finding you a position. I will not meddle at all. But you promised you would stay for the wedding. Remember? You promised. You cannot break your word to me, just because of a silly misunderstanding. Forgive me.” She looked up through her lashes and held out a hand to him. Contrition, helplessness, and a hint of flirtation should bring him round.

He ignored the hand, back still firmly against the wall. “ There is nothing to forgive. What you did was out of concern for me and I thank you for attempting to help, even if I must refuse. I will do as you ask and stay for the wedding. I will even buy a new coat and have my neckcloth properly tied for it, so that I do not shame you before the duke.”

His expression was frozen and his tone wooden. He looked and sounded as false as she felt, trying to snare him with her feminine wiles. He paused, wetting his lips before speaking again, as though it had been necessary to prepare himself for the answer.” Now when is this wedding you are so eager for me to attend?”

She smiled in triumph.” I really have no idea. I have not said yes, you remember. But if you mean to leave as soon as I am to wed, I suspect it shall take me some time to decide.”

He lurched forwards as though about to give her a good shaking for her impudence, then regained control and ran his fingers through his hair.” Ambrosia, I swear, your behavior is enough to drive a sane man to madness.”

“So I have been told,” she said with another smile.” It is good to see that you are not unaffected by it.” She took a step closer to him, pressing her advantage. “ We were quite close at one time, though you work very hard to deny it.”

“Like siblings,” he said firmly.

She shook her head. He must have known how she had felt about him. She had made no effort to hide her love. But he had given her no chance to elicit some promise from him, before he went off to school, so that she would know to wait for his return. Now that they were alone, there would be no better time.

“You were always more than a brother to me, Patrick.”

“But you were always my dear little sister,” he said, stubbornly.” And I am very proud to think that I will soon have to call you” Your grace.” Or I will once you stop stringing poor duke of Mayburry along.”

“I cannot accept him while there is still a question as to where my heart might lie,” she said.

He flinched.” Surely such questions were answered long ago, Ambrosia.”

“When you left me with no explanation?” she supplied.

“You knew I was to go away to school.”

“But I did not expect you to run the whole way. Nor did I expect you to run again today, in the middle of a simple conversation about your future.”

“A future you wished to choose for me,” he reminded her.

“And you are seeking a different one?” Perhaps it was with some other girl that felt the same way as she did. If it was another woman, why could he not just tell her? If it was to spare her pain, he had misjudged the situation. A simple answer for this rejection was bound to be better than not knowing.

And if there was another, the key to his absence was right here in the room with him. The other woman, if she was smart, would not have wanted him to forget that someone waited for his return. There must be a lock of hair, a miniature or some other token of her affection. Ambrosia had but to find it and understand. And there before her was the sea chest and doctor’s bag, waiting to be explored.

She trailed her fingers along the edge of the open chest and then turned to it suddenly, dropping to her knees to examine the contents.

There was no sign of another woman here. The box in front of her contained nothing but the tools of his profession.

It was novel enough that he had a trade, for most gentlemen did not. Ambrose tended the folks around their country home quite efficiently without a doctor’s help, but she did it with little more than instinct, herbs and a needle and thread from her sewing box. It was charity and not real work at all.

But here before her were all the things that a trained physician might have at his disposal. To Ambrosia, it was a revelation. She had read about to uses of such instruments in the books on medicine that she had got, but she had never seen them.

These were arrayed neatly, carefully, immaculate in their cleanliness and as ordered as idols in a temple. Lancets with smooth tortoiseshell handles, the gleaming steel of bone saws and drills, the terrifying razor edge of scalpels and the curved needles threaded with silk and gut. Beneath them, in neat rows, were cobalt blue medicine bottles and the weird globes of the leech jars.

The third layer was a collection of more esoteric items, harder to pack, but obviously well used. A syringe made of hollow bone, ivory-and-silver medicine spoons and forceps. She examined each one in turn.

“Are you searching for something, Ambrosia?”

Patrick had been so silent that she had almost forgotten him as she explored. But it seemed that her curiosity had relaxed him. He was no longer pinned to the wall, but standing just behind her. His voice had changed as well. The strangled desperation had changed to a familiar combination of disapproval, amusement, resignation and affection.

She wanted to turn and answer honestly. Yes, I am searching for the key to understanding you. Instead, she was almost as truthful.

“I am curious about your profession.” She turned to face him and sat on the floor, her legs tucked under.