Rescued By The Forbidden Rake. Mary Brendan

her. Faye couldn’t remember that sad time as she’d only been five years old when her mother had died of a winter chill.

      ‘I doubt your brother has got scarlatina; I’d expect to see his tongue looking strawberry red and his cheeks flushed, too.’ Dr Reid tapped a finger thoughtfully against his mouth. ‘His fever’s faded.’ He held a hand against Michael’s forehead.

      ‘He’s been scrumping lately,’ Mrs Gideon announced helpfully. ‘And fighting.’

      ‘I believe he might have rolled on ragwort after swimming in the river,’ Faye added.

      ‘Scrumpy belly and irritation from the ragwort together with a summer chill from going swimming is what I reckon has laid you low, young man.’ Dr Reid started packing away his things, turning to Faye. ‘If he’s not properly back on his feet in a day or two, send for me again.’

      Faye and Mrs Gideon exchanged a beam of relief.

      ‘I expect a day of rest and fasting will put your belly right. The apothecary might have something to soothe those spots,’ he told Michael, pulling the covers up over him.

      ‘Or the Romanies have a cure, I believe,’ Faye said.

      Mrs Gideon turned a shocked look on her mistress.

      ‘Mr Kavanagh told me they do,’ Faye explained. ‘It seems he was right about the rash.’

      ‘Was he now!’ Mrs Gideon breathed. ‘I’ll send Bertram to the apothecary ’cos we don’t want anything off the likes of them.’

      ‘It is true that itinerants treat their own ills quite successfully.’ The doctor sounded quite unperturbed at the idea of using a gypsy remedy.

      ‘Please come into the parlour before leaving, Dr Reid. Have you time for tea?’

      ‘I must get off straight away and there’s no need for me to come into the parlour, Miss Shawcross. I was barely here a few minutes and nothing much wrong, so there’ll be no charge.’

      The doctor knew about her financial mishap and was offering to waive his payment, Faye realised. ‘That’s kind of you, sir, but I insist if you’ve no time to take tea that you do stop long enough to collect your fee.’

      Once the doctor had gone with the money she’d pressed on him, Faye opened the parlour window to let in a rose-scented breeze. It was another glorious midsummer day, Faye thought, gazing towards the spot at the bottom of the garden where just a short while ago Ryan Kavanagh had taken her from his horse. The memory of that ride home seemed dream-like now and it was only Mrs Gideon’s censorious expression that told Faye she had indeed flown over meadows on a black stallion with the new master of Valeside.

      ‘I promised your father always to do my best by you, miss, so there is something I feel duty bound to say...’ Nelly put down the tea tray she’d just brought into the parlour.

      ‘You want to scold me for accepting a lift from Mr Kavanagh,’ Faye pre-empted. ‘But he was helpful and I’m grateful. In fact, I should write and thank him, especially for hinting at what ailed Michael.’

      ‘Isn’t him you need to thank for that!’ Mrs Gideon huffed. ‘That hussy of his will be the one knows gypsy lore.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ Faye frowned. ‘They’re gentry from London, aren’t they?’

      ‘Maybe they are...but folk are saying she’s a Romany and from the look of her I’d say that’s true.’

      The beautiful young woman certainly looked exotic enough to have foreign blood. It was a depressing thought that the master of Valeside would take a young gypsy girl as a paramour when he was attractive and wealthy enough to choose a woman closer to his own age and station in life. ‘Wherever the knowledge about ragwort came from I’m grateful to have it if it helps Michael.’ Faye changed the subject. ‘Where is Claire?’ She looked out of the window to see if her sister had gone into the garden.

      ‘Miss Claire went with Bertram to Wilverton. She said she was bored so she’s gone for a ride to the apothecary with him to fetch Michael some lotion.’

       Chapter Five

      ‘Tell Miss Claire to hurry inside or her tea will be stewed in the pot.’

      Bertram had been pulling off his boots by the kitchen door when his wife called out to him.

      ‘The young miss is stopping in town with Peggy,’ he replied, padding to settle wearily on a kitchen stool. Unaware of his wife glowering at him he flexed his toes in his woollen socks and sipped his tea.

      ‘Stopping in town with Peggy?’ Nelly barked. ‘Who gave her leave to do such a thing? Did you?’

      Bertram frowned at her from beneath his bushy brows. ‘’Course it weren’t me, woman. Miss Claire said her sister knew she was to meet up with Peggy this afternoon.’

      Bertram pulled from a pocket the bottle of lotion he’d got from the apothecary shop, placing it on the table and trying to ignore his wife’s muttering.

      ‘Oh, I was just bringing the tea to the parlour, Miss Shawcross.’ Nelly had noticed her mistress on the kitchen threshold.

      ‘Did you say my sister has remained in town with Peggy?’ Faye asked, frowning.

      ‘Miss Claire said she had your permission,’ Bertram began defensively.

      ‘Well, she did not, but no harm done,’ Faye said, with more insouciance than she felt. She didn’t want to increase the friction between Mr and Mrs Gideon who, though devoted, she was sure, constantly bickered about their respective families.

      Although it was wrong of her sister to tell fibs, Faye understood Claire’s restlessness. Sometimes she, too, craved to roam the outdoors in fine weather, or to have a relaxing time with friends free of constraints of family duty. Claire was now sixteen years old and if they were contemplating her come out then she was more adult than child. She deserved a degree of independence and to be allowed to choose her friends. Faye was not a snob, but she realised that some people—Mrs Gideon in particular—might think her sister was becoming too friendly with a girl who might be a similar age but was beneath her class.

      ‘Bertram will go and get her as soon as he gets those boots back on.’ Mrs Gideon sent her husband a thunderous look.

      ‘I expect she’ll be back home under her own steam for supper,’ Faye said lightly. ‘She’s made the trek before. No need to rush back to Wilverton for her just yet.’

      Bertram gulped down his tea, then clattered his empty cup down on its saucer, hoisting himself to his feet with the aid of the table edge. ‘No rest for the wicked,’ he mumbled, keen to escape his wife’s company. ‘I’ll get that vegetable patch turned over ready for sowing,’ he added. ‘Rain’s on the way and ground could do with a good soaking.’

      Faye picked up the lotion and went upstairs to see her brother.

      ‘Yesterday you sounded cross when Claire let on that you’d been scrumping. But by telling us about it she assisted you in quickly getting the powder you needed to soothe your gripes.’ Faye began dabbing Michael’s rash with a piece of lint soaked with lotion. ‘If I asked you to tell me about something important that might help Claire, though she might not want me to know it, you would do so, wouldn’t you?’ She noticed that her brother avoided her eyes as she tended to him.

      ‘Michael?’ Faye grasped her brother’s chin, turning him to look at her. ‘What is it you know, but don’t want to say?’

      ‘Peggy put her up to it,’ Michael blurted out. ‘Edward told me that it wasn’t Claire’s fault.’

      ‘What wasn’t Claire’s fault?’ Faye felt a jolt of uneasiness. So something had gone on; she hadn’t imagined the guilty looks the two girls had been sporting at the fairground.