Sleepless in Southampton by Chasity Bowlin
Chapter Fourteen
Sophie feigned excitement as they climbed into the carriage and headed toward Lymington and the waiting bathing machines. It wasn’t that she didn’t wish to go sea bathing. In truth, it was an experience she’d often been quite curious about. It was more that she found herself distracted by the fact that she’d somehow embarked on a secret engagement with Henry Meredith, Viscount Marchwood. Would they detest her? Would Philippa forgive her for keeping secrets? Would they think her a fortune hunter? Would they convince him to renege as she was so impossibly far beneath him?
“The water isn’t very deep,” Philippa said, mistaking the source of Sophie’s very obvious nerves. “And while it is saltwater, it’s very calm. We can even have a guide if you like.”
Sophie smiled somewhat nervously. “Oh… well, yes, that would be all right.”
Philippa held up her hand as if swearing an oath. “I promise that you will love it. It’s so invigorating. Even when you aren’t ill!”
“I am certain I shall love it,” Sophie offered with false assurance. “I must apologize. I am not some scared rabbit of a woman who is terrified of everything and everyone. I’m really quite excited to try sea bathing. Just perhaps a bit uncertain of what to expect.”
“I don’t think that at all! You are so very brave to have set out on your own,” Philippa exclaimed. “I could never have done so. Not even if I were well. I think this school you attended sounds perfectly remarkable. I wish…” the girl stopped talking altogether. Her expression became rather bleak and she looked to be on the verge of tears.
Concerned, Sophie braved the rocking of the carriage to close the distance and clasped Philippa’s hand in hers. “What is it? Are you in pain?”
“Not physically,” Philippa stated. “Yesterday was just so terrible. My head ached. My entire body hurt. I felt sick and weak and hopeless, frankly. But today is a good day. And on days like today, I feel almost normal, like I could do anything. The truth is, I wish I could be like you, Sophie. I long for independence, as much as any young woman can have independence in this world. I’m told what to do by everyone! Dr. Blake, my mother, my father! Even my own servants.”
“Then I shall endeavor to never tell you what you may or may not do. And I vow, that if you choose to throw off the edicts of others, I shall keep your confidence—barring any situations that might be considered life or death,” Sophie swore solemnly. But hadn’t she already? Hadn’t she switched Philippa’s tonic without ever telling her the truth of it?
Shaking her head slightly, Sophie reasoned that it was different. Dr. Blake, though they had no proof yet beyond his concealment of the nature of his elixir, was a scoundrel. She and Henry were trying to save Philippa from him. “Has Dr. Blake ever been inappropriate with you, Philippa?”
The girl looked askance. “He is my physician. I daresay that what he does would only be considered liberties if another man were to do so—one who is not doing so to gauge my health and well-being.”
“Such as?”
Philippa blushed. “Well, naturally, he must from time to time perform examinations.”
“Without your clothing?”
“Not entirely,” Philippa replied. “I am permitted to wear my chemise throughout and a wrapper until the examination begins.”
Sophie frowned at that. She’d certainly never been as ill as Philippa was purported to be—potentially as ill as Dr. Blake was making her—but she’d never been examined in such a manner by a physician. “What do these exams entail?”
Philippa blushed. “Well, he looks at various parts of my person and palpates them for any irregularities.”
“But I thought your primary complaint was megrims,” Sophie insisted.
“Well, it is. But Dr. Blake insists that the megrims I suffer could be a manifestation of an ailment elsewhere in my body that has yet to be identified,” Philippa explained.
“Does your mother know?”
“Oh, goodness no,” Philippa said. “She’d have apoplexy! Dr. Blake has admitted to me that his methods can be viewed as somewhat unorthodox by those who do not understand the science of medicine. Thus, he instructed me to keep the nature of his exams to myself. But I can trust you, can’t I, Sophie?”
Sophie looked away. “Philippa, I—yes, you can trust me. But you must not submit to these examinations again. Not until I’ve had a chance to research this science he is referencing. I know that you trust Dr. Blake—”
“I want to. I want to trust him because he promised me he could make me better!” the girl cried. “He swore that if I trusted him and did as he asked, I would have my life back. But I do not. It’s been almost a year!”
“Tell me, Philippa, what do your instincts tell you?” Sophie demanded.
“My instincts—” Philippa broke off abruptly and looked away. “They are as dulled as everything else most of the time. I go through entire weeks where I feel like I am moving in a fog. Followed by spells of terrible weakness and pain. Then I’ll have a few days where I feel well and then it all starts again in some vicious cycle. My instinct tells me that the treatments are having no effect at all, or if they are having an effect, it isn’t a positive one… I’m afraid that what he’s said and what he’s done are all part of some elaborate scheme. Is it? What do your instincts say?”
Sophie decided then that she must tell the truth. All of it. “I have something to tell you… I took your nearly empty bottle of his elixir to an apothecary and had it analyzed. It’s full of herbs that will make you feel sick or ill but do not do long-lasting harm. But it also contains a not insignificant amount of laudanum. And from what I understand, people who use laudanum regularly often suffer ill effects from the lack of it.”
“Laudanum?” Philippa gasped, her face paling. “Papa has refused to let any physician treat me with laudanum. He insists that with my megrims, it is better to deal with the pain another way as the risks of using such a substance—he lied, Sophie. He lied directly to my father’s face!”
“Well, you may take the current elixir as you like. I had the apothecary replace the contents of that bottle with something harmless. It is actually intended to aid with megrims but does not contain any opium derivatives. But you must not allow any of the elixirs provided directly from Dr. Blake to be consumed. I understand that stopping usage of opium can be terribly painful. I can only imagine that would prove worse if one had to do it over and over again.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell me? And why would you undertake such a thing without consulting me or any member of my family?” Philippa’s tone showed her hurt.
Sophie sighed. “I didn’t want to lie to you. But I felt that perhaps you had some romantic feeling toward Dr. Blake that might make you less willing to hear any critique of his methods. And from the moment I met him, I had no trust for him at all. You asked what my instincts tell me of Dr. Blake… that is it. He cannot be trusted. The man is a charlatan and I fear these examinations he performs are much more for his benefit than yours.”
The significance of that seemed to sink in and Philippa’s face paled. She appeared quite stricken. “I feel so foolish. Why didn’t I question him? Why didn’t I demand some sort of explanation? I am not stupid or incapable of understanding the complexities of whatever science he was referencing!”
“Because you were desperate,” Sophie stated. “Because he preyed upon your desperation to have some relief from the pain of these terrible megrims. You are not to blame for any of this. There is only one guilty party here and that is Dr. Blake! As to your family… well, Henry is helping me. He’s looking into the doctor’s past. And whether or not he might have had a hand in the passing of Lady Parkhurst.”
“Henry?” Philippa asked. “Not Viscount Marchwood, but Henry? What else aren’t you telling me?”
Sophie let out a deep shuddering breath. “I might have become secretly betrothed to your cousin last night in the kitchen while I was switching out the elixir Dr. Blake had given you for the placebo from the apothecary!”
Philippa blinked at that. “You have been remarkably busy. Plotting, subterfuge, engagements!”
“You hate me, don’t you?” Sophie asked. “I really only have your best interests at heart! I swear it.”
“I don’t hate you at all,” Philippa said. “The truth is, I find myself quite envious. You’ve done all that in two days and I’ve all done is lie abed!”
“To be fair, I am your companion. If you’d been up and about, I’d never have accomplished so much,” Sophie said.
Philippa’s eyes widened and then she laughed. She began to giggle. The sound was infectious, filling their small carriage. “Oh, heavens! I suppose if one is determined to find the bright side of my current predicament, that might be it!”
“Even if it weren’t for my secret betrothal, even if not for meeting Henry—Viscount Marchwood—I’m happy to be where I am. I’m so happy to have met you and, I hope against hope, that my presence here will effect some sort of change for you… whether that involves parting ways with Dr. Blake or not.”
Philippa smiled. “I’m glad for your presence. But no more secrets. None. Please talk to me about things. And if what you suspect, and what I now suspect, about Dr. Blake is true, then I will say good riddance to him.”
Sophie nodded. “Then let me tell you about Mr. William Carlton.”
*
While Sophie andPhilippa were off to Lymington to enjoy a morning of sea bathing, Henry was off on a quest of his own. In order to get to the truth about Dr. Blake, he needed to know where the man had originated from. He also needed to find another doctor to see to Philippa’s care once Dr. Blake was no longer given run of the household.
So he went back to the place where it had all started: Lady Hemsley. But he needed to catch her before she went into the Long Rooms for the morning gossip and taking the waters. After all, if he wished to speak freely with her, a public place was hardly the best location.
To that end, he’d set out early enough to catch her at home and ride with her in her carriage. Rushing through the streets, he arrived just as the front doors opened and Lady Hemsley stepped out of them. She caught sight of him, arched one well-drawn brow and then beckoned with a quick jerk of her head.
“You are making a habit of this, Marchwood,” she remarked in an imperious tone.
“I sincerely hope not, Lady Hemsley. I merely needed clarification on a few points from our earlier conversation.”
“Help me into the carriage,” she said on a sigh. “And then I suppose you may accompany me.”
Henry smiled and did as he’d been bade. Climbing into the carriage behind her once she was settled, he waited until the wheels began to turn and the sound of the horses’ hooves would mask the content of their conversation before he began to speak. “Where did Dr. Blake come from? Before he was practicing here in Southampton, where was he?”
“Salisbury, I think. I vaguely recall Bess mentioning something about it,” she said. “Though that is what he has put to her, that does not make it true. The man has barely a passing acquaintance with the truth, after all.”
“He did not go very far then. Salisbury is but a half-day’s ride,” Henry mused.
Lady Hemsley made a humming sound. “Who do you know in Salisbury?”
Henry considered the question. “No one that I can think of. Why?”
“Precisely. Salisbury and Southampton are so close together they might as well be a world apart. The people from there rarely venture here and there is very little in Salisbury to draw anyone from Southampton. And people traveling to Southampton, that close to their destination, are unlikely to make a stop there.”
It was true. Given the location, if a person in Salisbury required something that could not be found within its confines, they would surely just go to London which was no further than Southampton was. “You make an excellent point. I shall go to Salisbury and make my inquiries.”
“You do that, but first, you will answer my questions, Marchwood,” Lady Hemsley commanded imperiously.
“If I can, I will,” Henry hedged.
“What is the nature of your attachment with Miss Upchurch?” The woman’s brow rose and there was more than a hint of disapproval in her tone.
Henry sighed. “That is really between me and Miss Upchurch, Lady Hemsley.”
“But it is not,” she said. “I do not know the girl, truthfully. But in some small way, I am responsible for her being here. I will not be responsible for luring her to her ruin! To that end, I feel I must ensure that she is not being treated with any impropriety. What, Marchwood, are your intentions?”
“My intentions are entirely honorable,” Henry replied.
“How honorable? Honorable in that you mean to marry the girl or honorable in that you intend to leave the girl be? I’m not blind, you know. I have eyes! I saw how the two of you looked at one another yesterday,” she said. “I may be old, sir, but I am not dead, nor is my youth so far beyond me that I cannot recall what the flush of infatuation looks like!”
The old bat was like a dog with a bone, Henry thought. “When there is news to share regarding the nature of my attachment with Miss Upchurch, I have no doubt, Lady Hemsley, that you will be the first person to be apprised of it.”
She sat back and crossed her arms, a satisfied smirk playing about her mouth. “You said when, Marchwood. Not if. Is that a slip of the tongue or a way to answer my question without necessarily answering my question?”
Henry sighed. “I cannot tell you more than I already have. Suffice it to say, I have a deep regard for Miss Upchurch and would never deal badly with her.”
“Again, that is not a denial that there is more to tell. But I shall let it pass for now. I will even keep your secrets for the time being. But make no mistake, this is the sort of gossip that, if one gets to break the story, it can make or break one’s social standing.”
“Lady Hemsley, there is naught that could be done to break your social standing,” he remarked.
She grinned rather triumphantly. “Indeed. I have cut a wide swath, haven’t I? I was considered the most beautiful debutante in London my first season. Did you know that?”
Henry studied her. There were hints of that beauty remaining. “I did not know it, but I am not surprised by it.”
She inclined her head. “I found very quickly that nothing will diminish the power of beauty like familiarity. People look at a pretty face so long and it suddenly requires no more notice than the wallpaper or that vase on the hall table that you take for granted. But information—gossip, if you will—that is a thing that holds sway, Marchwood. No one ignores you when they think you know things no one else does. So while my position is secure, I’m not quite willing to rest on my laurels yet.”
“You are a diabolical woman, Lady Hemsley. I am glad I do not have to count you among my enemies,” Henry noted.
She beamed in response, as if he had just paid her the highest of compliments. “Indeed. You’ll send me a note when you’re ready for the world to know what precisely you intend to do with Miss Upchurch and then I, Marchwood, will do what I do best.”
“And what is that Lady Hemsley?”
She chuckled. “Talk, of course. I shall talk.”
