A Doctor’s Unintended Lady (Preview)

Chapter One

Stathford was a quiet country town. Everyone who lived there had grown up together, and any newcomer was welcomed with smiles and freshly baked goods. As a community, they thrived. No person ever went sick or without help. When someone was in need, they came together. 

However, the passage of time had taken its effect, and the children who had once frequented the streams in search of tadpoles were now grown and taking on their adult responsibilities. 

Some of them had gone away for education and to work in London, while others had become responsible for their family businesses. Some of the community’s elders had passed. The young women prepared for the season, leaving behind their wistful childhood. 

There would soon be marriages and new children to welcome into Stathford, and it had all created a sense of excitement among those who lived there. 

Events were held regularly, where those who hadn’t seen each other in some time greeted each other with joy and pleasantries. No funeral was left unattended, and no new mother was left without help and support. 

Those who resided in Stathford felt lucky to be there, while those who departed for London often left with a feeling of sadness and longing to be back home. 

It was a beautiful day, and Stathford was on display in all its glory. Children played outside as laundry was rushed out into the sun to dry before the next rain came.

The Wells family home, settled in the middle of beautiful countryside, was in a minimal amount of chaos. Emelia Wells, the oldest of the Wells daughters, felt at the centre of things. There were to be guests arriving soon, and she wanted to make sure that everything was perfect for their arrival. 

It was a task that Emelia had taken upon herself from an early age. How could she promise to be a good wife if she could not even be a good hostess? It was a question her grandmother had posed once, and it had stuck with her ever since. 

She had worked up a sweat as she checked that the drapes were sufficiently dusted and the furniture was just where it was supposed to be. 

Emelia was good at many things, but hosting the perfect party wasn’t on that list. She kept trying, though. As a woman and educated as a lady, she knew the importance of that ability. Yet, it always felt as though luck was against her. 

Their closest family friends were expected to join them for a soirée that evening, and she was adamant that everything should be perfect. Emelia knew their guests well. She knew which of them would prefer which types of glasses and what sorts of meals. So, for the third time that day, she headed to the kitchen to confirm that their menu was going as planned. 

“Everything is as planned,” the cook confirmed. “You best be getting ready Miss; your guests will arrive soon enough.” 

“It’s true,” Emelia said with a deep breath. “I just hope I’ve chosen the right menu. I’ll be so pleased to see smiling faces leave this evening.” 

She’d left little time for her own preparations, but it was alright. If she were quick and had no distractions, then she had just enough time to get ready for their guests. 

Stathford carried on around them, as quiet as any small country town would. The fresh breeze blew through, cleansing the air as the end-of-day tasks were carried out in a well-practiced routine. That was part of the panic. In a small town like Stathford, one small mistake could provide entertainment for weeks. Every time she failed at something, all the neighbours would discuss it in great detail. 

They were all friendly, of course, but just once, Emelia wished that she could host one event without there being something funny to discuss about it. 

Emelia’s room was flooded with late afternoon light. She glanced at herself in the looking glass. There was much work to do. Her blonde hair had fallen in some parts from its usual slicked-back chignon, her full lips were in desperate need of some colour, and her dress looked as if it had seen a chaotic day’s work. 

When she looked at herself in the glass, she often pictured what she might look like within her life – as a wife, standing beside a handsome husband, or as a mother who smiled and played with her children. 

But enough of that – she had no time for such distractions. She needed to get ready. 

Her preferred dress was hanging and ready for her – a floral get-up in various shades of purple. She knew it made her green eyes stand out and had decided it was the right dress for the event. It always made her feel confident, which would put her at ease. 

It wasn’t that Emelia didn’t enjoy socializing; she loved it. It didn’t come particularly easily to her, though. She fumbled over words and missed cues. She could be clumsy when she was nervous, too. 

As she dressed and chose her jewellery for the night, she did her best not to think about the socializing that lay ahead for her. It would only make her nervous in advance. She settled on some gold earrings in a teardrop shape with pearls hanging off the ends. 

Her usual chignon was redone and neatened up. Then it was just the colour on her lips that was still missing. She reached for her lip salve and applied it generously, her lips turning rosy in response. 

A knock on the door was her signal that she needed to finish up. 

“How are you faring?” Her sister’s sweet voice filtered through the wood. “Are you almost ready?”

“What do you think?” she asked, prompting her sister to step inside. 

Hannah Wells was the more confident of the two sisters. It showed in her choice of dress, too. She opted for a bold dress in deep blue and large jewels around her ears. Her preferred tint of lip salve had more rouge to it, too. She always left strands of curled hair to frame her face. 

Emelia sometimes envied her sister’s ability to move seamlessly into a social setting and look as if she belonged there. 

“Do I look ready?” Emelia asked, twirling once to show her appearance from every angle. 

“You look like you,” Hannah answered, joining her at the looking glass. 

“I’m rather hoping that is meant with positivity,” Emelia said, her stomach tightening. 

“You look fine,” Hannah assured her. “Mother and Father are already waiting for us in the parlour.” 

Hannah spoke with ease and could enter any conversation she wanted, and it always seemed as if she knew what she was talking about. It had bothered Emelia before, until she realized why she struggled at such events. 

It was something beyond her control – a desire to feel worth more than just a good conversation and a pleasant meal. Most nights as she climbed into bed, Emelia wished that she could make a greater difference in the world. She would settle for even making a meaningful difference to just one person. 

However, she knew what was expected of her as a woman in her world. And until she could master that expectation, she was certain she had little hope of changing lives. For now, she would do her best to be a good hostess, wear a warm smile, and be positively charming. 

The sisters descended the stairs together, so similar and so different at the same time. Their parents were in joyful conversation when they arrived. Her father, a wealthy merchant, enjoyed any social event, and her mother fancied being at her husband’s side through anything. 

The first to arrive was Lady Michelle Parker. She had been friends with the Wells family since before Emelia and Hannah were born. She waltzed in as if she had always lived there and immediately added excited chatter to the room. 

Then the Shaws arrived. Brothers Brody and Montgomery had been in their lives for as long as Emelia could remember. Their father, Mr Alistair Shaw, was a business associate of Mr Wells. That day, Mr Brody Shaw arrived, joined by his mother. They’d been good friends, and the children of the two families had been raised side-by-side. 

Emelia wasted no time rushing around to make sure that everybody had refreshments and sat comfortably. She was the last to take her seat between her sister and Mr Brody Shaw. 

“You know, considering the nearness of our homes, I’m appalled at how long it has been since we last saw each other,” Mr Brody Shaw said. 

“It has been far too long, hasn’t it?” Emelia answered. “I don’t know what happens to the days. Honestly, it feels as if they grow shorter and shorter with each year that I age.” 

He smiled. “Then we have much to talk about. How much have I missed?” 

Emelia wished there was something to tell him. She didn’t have much to say. She had spent her days reading, learning, and practicing her needlepoint. Her dancing had improved, but she knew that he would only tease her if she mentioned it. 

Mr Brody Shaw was a neat man. His hair was combed back, and he always wore suits in just the right shade of grey to bring his blue eyes to life. While he wasn’t taller than most men, because of Emelia’s short stature, he towered over her. 

She had so much to ask him, but it would have to wait. From the corner of her eyes, she spotted the cook waving wildly at her from the doorway. 

“It seems you’re needed,” Mr Shaw said with a familiar smirk. 

“Excuse me a moment,” Emelia responded. “I better see what is needed before she breaks her elbow from all that waving.”

When she got up to join the cook, Mr Shaw joined her, and while it wasn’t necessary, she always enjoyed his presence. He’d always had a way of providing support where it might be needed. 

“We have a problem, Miss,” the cook said. “It’s just awful. I’m afraid there will be no dinner tonight.” 

“Be clearer,” Emelia demanded, hoping it was just a terrible joke. Of all the hostess failures she’d achieved in her life, not having any dinner to serve would be the worst of it all. 

“Don’t ask me how, but the kitchen door was left open,” the cook explained. “The neighbour’s dogs got in and devoured all our hard work. It took three of us to wrestle them off the kitchen table. They’re running rampant in the yard as we speak. Young Miss Walker is in tears about it.” 

Miss Walker was the young woman employed as the cook’s assistant. She cried often and easily, but never without cause. 

“How can we serve them nothing?” Emelia snapped. “We have guests with empty stomachs expecting to have them filled. Oh goodness, how can this be happening?”

How could she ever imagine changing a life one day if she could not have a single dinner without a mishap?  

The cook paled. “We’ll be cleaning up for hours. There’s no chance of cooking another meal.” 

Emelia’s worst nightmare was coming true. Once again, she had taken charge of something and failed at it. Panic was rising within her, and she didn’t know in which place to look or what to think of first. 

She opened her mouth and hoped that some instruction might fall from her lips, but there was nothing. Emelia was stunned in the worst sense. 

Thankfully, Mr Brody Shaw was there to save the day again. She felt his calming presence behind her and stepped aside for him to help. 

“Prepare some cheese and cold meats, the best kind that you can find,” Mr Shaw said with an impressive amount of calmness. 

The cook nodded, her wide eyes fixated on him. 

“And some of that delicious bread that you bake,” Mr Shaw continued. “Add in some fresh fruit if you have, and a bottle of port. I think for this wonderful weather, that will be a welcome spread.” 

Emelia’s tension eased as the cook nodded and disappeared to the kitchen. 

“You’re brilliant,” she said. “Thank you for that. I didn’t know what to do.” 

As was often the case in their dynamic, Mr Shaw had saved the day. He’d done an excellent job of it, too. The evening was going well. The spread of bread and cheese received many compliments, and the port settled everyone’s spirits. 

When the sun was due to set, they headed for the porch, where a few small tables and chairs were ready for them to watch the beautiful setting sun. 

“Your home certainly gets the best sunsets in Stathford,” Mr Shaw said. “What a beautiful place to call home.”

He and Emelia had a small table at the end of the porch. It was the one with the best view, and just a short way away from the rest of the conversation. It allowed them some time together to talk among themselves. A situation with which they’d always been comfortable. 

They’d been friends for so long that as children, they would pretend they were brother and sister. Being neighbours, they spent many afternoons together until the schedules of adulthood no longer allowed such freedoms. 

“Don’t you have some interesting news for me?” Emelia asked as she took a small sip of the port. It burned all the way down her throat. “What has been happening for you lately? It feels as if I know nothing about you anymore.”

“Nothing has changed much in my life,” Mr Shaw said with a smirk. “However, I heard a little bit of interesting news in passing earlier. Let’s just say it is a conversation I heard by accident; it was certainly not meant for my ears.”

“You know I don’t enjoy gossip,” Emelia reprimanded him. “Whatever you heard, it’s best you keep it to yourself.”

Mr Brody Shaw looked to her like a man who knew better, though. He glanced at her and put his glass down on the small table. 

“Even if the gossip included you?” he asked with a smirk. 

She did her best to ignore his attempts to lure her in, but she wanted to know what people thought of her. It was the only way she had of understanding just how well she was doing in the world. 

“Tell me then,” she said. “But keep it hushed. I don’t want to be heard gossiping.” 

Mr Brody Shaw leaned in a little, his eyes on hers then. 

“According to the guests here tonight, it makes the most sense if you and I are to be married,” he said. “They’re all expecting it. It seems that the only two people who haven’t realized this yet are you and I.”  

Emelia scoffed. It was an outrageous notion. They got along well enough, but they had always been nothing more than close friends. They laughed and enjoyed each other’s company, but the thought of being anything more than that had never crossed Emelia’s mind. 

“Have they forgotten that there is a world outside of Stathford?” she asked with a chuckle. “Why on Earth would they make such an assumption?”

“We’ve been friends since childhood. I suppose you and I were always like a team. Perhaps they feel that at some point our friendship might have taken a turn towards something more romantic,” Mr Shaw said. 

His casual manner told her that he felt the same way she did about it. Mr Brody Shaw wasn’t a particularly romantic man anyway. He was a logical man. He focused on what worked, and everything else came second.  When they were younger, it frustrated Emelia endlessly. She had wished him to be carried away by whimsy at least once, but as they grew older, she got used to it.

“You must also consider just how much we have in common,” Mr Brody Shaw said. “We share a love for music and dancing.”

“Hunting, art, parties …” she continued his list on his behalf. 

“It’s evident!” he said with a grin. “It’s not such a silly notion that those who’ve seen us together might think things are different between us.” 

“Apart from the fact that nobody knows you as well as I do,” Emelia said. “And I know that you don’t believe in romance. You’re a practical man.” 

He raised his glass. “You are absolutely correct about that. You, on the other hand, wish to be swept off your feet.” 

Emelia shook her head as a soft laugh escaped her. He was the only person she didn’t feel nervous around. They had reached every milestone in their lives together. They shared secrets and adventures, and she knew there was nothing she needed to hide from him. Yet, he was not somebody that she considered as a potential husband. Despite how well they got along, he had a way of getting under her skin at times. She knew that spending every day of the rest of her life with him would drive her insane. 

“Not exactly swept off my feet,” she responded. “But I do believe that romance is important. Particularly when it comes to marriage.” 

“Most people would agree with you,” he said. “But you do realize that you would be disappointing everyone we know if you didn’t marry me? How will I break the news to them that there’ll be no wedding?” 

Emelia smiled. “They’ll survive.” 

What Emelia couldn’t be honest about with him, for once, was that if she had to marry him, she would be breaking her sister’s heart. Hannah had been casting a certain look in Mr Brody Shaw’s direction for months. It was clear she’d developed feelings for him. Emelia liked the idea of her best friend being her brother, too. 

“I think we’re all confused about love,” Mr Shaw said, pulling her from her thoughts. “I don’t think it really exists.” 

“What would you say it is then?” she countered. “What does Mr Brody Shaw think love is?”

He seemed to consider it a moment, ignoring her teasing tone. “I think we’ve confused the feeling of success … the fact that something works well … for something else.” 

She listened for a moment, considering it. It would have made sense if it didn’t leave her with one burning question. 

“What then is the cause of heartbreak?” she asked. 

Mr Shaw let out a small sigh. “Trust you to ask the difficult questions. I suppose that if the feeling of love is actually the feeling of success, then heartbreak must be failure. That is the only logical explanation.” 

“I can understand how that makes sense to you,” Emelia said. “But I’ll be honest, it makes little sense to me. I think the feeling of success and the feeling of failure feel different from love and heartbreak.” 

The conversation between them fell quiet for a moment. It was a comfortable silence that they had often shared. 

“Why don’t we make a deal with each other. Something logical, that works for us both?” he said. “Because I think there is something to be said in how well we get along, don’t you?” 

“A deal?” she asked, amused. 

“Why don’t we revisit this conversation in ten years? If neither of us is married yet, then we will marry each other,” he said. 

She knew by the look in his eyes that he was being completely serious. That was precisely the kind of thing he would suggest. Then again, if she were still alone in ten years’ time, being married to her best friend didn’t sound so bad. 

“Alright,” she said. “You have a deal. However, don’t let my guests hear about it. I do not wish to fuel their expectations.” 

“My apologies,” he whispered jokingly. 

“I’m serious,” she said. “People might think otherwise of our friendship. It could ruin my reputation entirely.” 

Emelia knew that she didn’t need to explain what she meant to him. He understood her perfectly.  

His eyes widened. “The way things seem these days, it might improve it,” he said, his face twisting into a teasing smirk. 

“Stop it,” she urged with a chuckle. “You’ll get me into trouble.” 

It surprised her that Mr Brody Shaw wasn’t married yet. He was a handsome man with a successful position in society. His late father had been well respected in London and had instilled the same gentlemanly lifestyle into both his sons. 

Once again, silence blanketed them as they watched the sky turn red in preparation for the dark of night. Eventually, it was just the Shaws who remained at the country house. That was how it often went when they were invited over. 

Emelia and Mr Shaw were still in each other’s company as Hannah sat at the pianoforte and filled the night with calm music. 

“How are things going with Mr Montgomery?” Emelia asked, referring to Mr Brody’s brother. 

Montgomery Shaw had gone to London and become a doctor. Last that Emelia heard, he loved his profession and was good at it. However, her question seemed to darken the mood. Mr Shaw’s eyes cast down, and he seemed to suddenly experience a bout of gloominess. 

“He is a good doctor, and he enjoys his work, but I must be honest and admit that I am concerned about him,” he said honestly. “He has not taken the reality of my father’s death well. They were always close. We all were, but my father and Montgomery were the closest by far.” 

“It saddens me to hear it,” she said softly. “It is still difficult to think that I will not see him and your mother arriving arm-in-arm here anymore.” 

The Wells had seen less of Montgomery Shaw since he left to join The Physician’s School of London. He had drowned himself in his studies while the rest of them cheered him on. 

Many nights, Emelia had stayed awake and wondered what life would be like if she could learn a skill that could save somebody’s life. It seemed so important, so incredible, that she could hardly fathom it. 

“I was hoping your brother would join us tonight,” Emelia said. “He works too hard if you ask me.”

“That’s the trick with being a physician,” Mr Shaw said. “There are always patients to see. The business is endless.” 

“Now that you’re worried about him, I worry too,” she said. “I hate to think that someone as kind as he is struggling and far from family.” 

“My mother does her best to see him as often as she can,” Mr Brody Shaw explained. “She is getting older, though, and the travelling to the city and back is tiring for her.” 

“I suppose he doesn’t want to be too far from his place of work,” she said. 

Mr Brody Shaw nodded. “That’s precisely it. We’re all worried that he is throwing himself into work to avoid facing his own heartaches.” 

When it came to the death of his father, Mr Brody Shaw did not think that heartbreak was failure. She opted not to mention that to him. 

“All that working cannot be good for his health,” she said. “Surely he understands that better than anybody.” 

“For as long as he is helping someone, he can claim that it is a good thing to do,” Mr Shaw said. “I only wish I had more time to spend with him, too. Sometimes I think he avoids us because our presence only reminds him of my father.” 

Alistair Shaw had been an excellent man and a brilliant role model for his sons. 

“Will you let me know if there’s anything I can do to help?” she asked, hoping he might ask something of her. 

Her instinct was to go to Dr Shaw, a man who had always been her friend, and make sure that he ate and slept well. But that would be overstepping. The best she could do was offer her condolences and remember to write to him in the morning. 

While it didn’t seem like nearly enough, it was better than nothing. 

“Thank you,” Mr Shaw said, but she could see the dark cloud still hung heavily over his head. 

 

Chapter Two

The young boy’s tears dampened the fabric of his shirt as Dr Montgomery Shaw worked tirelessly to set his broken arm. His tousled, brown hair hung in front of his eyes, a reminder that it had been far too long since his last trip to the barber. 

There were too many ill and injured to tend to, and he had long left behind the days when attention was paid to his appearance. There simply wasn’t the time, and when people were dying, it didn’t seem so important. 

The irony of his evening wasn’t missed by him. He had turned down the invitation to the Wells’ soiree because he needed to tend to his patients in London, only to be called to an emergency at the neighbouring estate. 

The thought of arriving for a quick greeting had crossed his mind. Then he remembered his dishevelled appearance and decided against it. It might have been more of an insight than a surprise. 

More than that, he had heard that the injured boy’s unattended dogs had snuck into the Wells’ kitchen and destroyed their dinner. He knew it would have sent Miss Emelia into a tailspin. Part of it amused him, and part of it made him feel guilty. She always tried her best to make everybody comfortable and easygoing, while she took on the stress of every fine detail. He’d never had a bad time at their house. 

“I’m almost done with this,” he said to the young boy, who had fallen from a tree and broken his arm. “You only need to be brave for a short while longer; you’re doing well.”  

The young boy sniffed and tried to stop his tears for a moment. Montgomery wrapped the last of the bandage and secured it as well and gently as he could. His mother, who stood in the doorway, did her best to hide her own tears, hoping to be a better support for her son. 

“There,” Montgomery said softly. “This is all done. Try not to get it too wet and take care not to bump it or hurt it further.” 

“Thank you,” the boy said through sniffs. 

“You’ll have to take care of it, and you’ll need to see me again soon,” Montgomery said. 

He would repeat the instructions about the care and the pain treatment to the young boy’s parents. Each patient would be treated the same, regardless of the circumstances. It was a rule with him, regardless of the patient’s age. 

The worn leather of his Gladstone bag was a comforting feeling as he left the house. The cool night air was welcomed. The stars sprawled out around him, and the familiar sound of his hometown brought a sense of peace about him. 

When he passed the Wells’ residence, Montgomery became aware of what felt like keen eyes on him. He glanced to his left and saw Miss Emelia there. She stood outside the front door, illuminated by a faint gas light. She straightened the dress that she’d worn for the party and, at the sight of him, raised her hand to wave. 

Montgomery stopped a moment to wave back. It had been some time since he’d last visited the Wells, and a very long time since he’d last seen Miss Emelia. She was nothing like she’d been then. 

Her figure had filled out just enough to make her womanly. She was by no means a large woman; her slight frame was still evident, but she was far from the little girl she’d been all his life. 

Redness surrounded her eyes, accompanied by a puffiness that he knew well. He saw it often. It did not take a physician’s education to know that she’d been crying. He had a sense of what might have been the cause of her tears. 

For a moment, he wondered about stopping to make sure she was alright. However, he was alone, and so was she. An unprompted , unchaperoned conversation of such a personal nature was likely not the best idea. 

So, after looking at her a moment, he nodded his head and continued on his way, wishing suddenly that he’d accepted the invitation to her party. It had taken seeing her again to know that he missed the Wells family and the fun that was often had at their house. 

On his way, he thought only of her face – the friendly smile forced in an attempt to cover up the evidence of her tears. He felt a great sense of pity for her then. 

He wondered about stopping by his home to visit his family, but it was dark, and they were likely tired from their visit to the Wells estate. So, he wasn’t sure it was the best idea. However, the trip back to London seemed exhausting. 

He was still tossing up his options when he saw his brother’s familiar face appear from down the road, headed in his direction, with a large grin. 

“I’m glad I was in time to catch you,” Brody said. 

“Is it not so late?” Montgomery asked. “I often lose track of time during situations like this.” 

“Yes, and we were the last to leave,” Brody said with a smile. “Mr Briar stopped me on my way home to let me know you were here. Is the boy alright?” 

“He’s broken his arm, but he’ll heal well enough,” Montgomery answered with a curt nod. “How was the soiree?” 

“It was as expected,” Brody said. “There was a disaster with the dinner, and Miss Emelia wasn’t too pleased about it. In the end, we shared a spread of cheeses and cold meats, and the conversation was pleasant. I’m still hungry, though, I don’t suppose you’re up for a meal?” 

“I forget to eat sometimes,” Montgomery confessed. “I’m not sure when last I ate anything to be honest. A meal would do me good.” 

“Surely you aren’t considering returning to London tonight?” Brody asked. 

He couldn’t tell his brother that he’d leave. Certainly not after joining him for a meal. If he left early enough in the morning, then he’d be on time to see his first patients. It would be a good night’s sleep in his childhood home.

“I’ll stay here tonight,” Montgomery said. “It will be good to see Mother. Although I’m sure that will have to wait for morning.” 

“I’ll enjoy having you around a while, too, you know,” Brody teased. 

“It won’t be a while,” Montgomery said. “I will need to return early in the morning. I have patients to see.” 

“Of course, of course,” Brody said, waving away his words. “Perhaps I’ll come with you. I have some shopping to do.” 

Now that he’d decided to stay, he wondered if his heart and mind could handle it. There were many memories there, and as often as possible, he did his best to avoid them. Seeing the little boy and his father only reminded him of his childhood. He knew that one day the young boy’s father would die, and that sweet child would feel the same way he did. 

Returning home would be a difficult reminder of all he had lost. Added to that, he could see the ageing in his mother and hated the thought that she was living the last years of her life without the man who had loved her and cared for her. 

“Mother will be so pleased,” Brody said. “You would have enjoyed the party. It was a classic Emelia Wells disaster.” 

“You shouldn’t tease her that way,” Montgomery said with a chuckle. “She means well. A little too well, that’s her downfall.” 

He knew that the dogs getting into the dinner was no fault of hers, but Montgomery decided against explaining that, knowing that it would change nothing. 

“Yes,” Brody agreed. “Miss Hannah has grown up so much. Every time I see her, she looks more like her mother. She’s come into her own, too – the life of the party, unlike her sister.” 

“I haven’t seen them in some time,” Montgomery said. “I do think of them often, though. You and Lady Emelia were inseparable as children. You would laugh until you wept most days that you were together.” 

“They’re not upset that you couldn’t attend,” Brody said, likely reading the look of guilt on Montgomery’s face. “They’re proud of you for what you’re doing. They ask about you every time we see each other.” 

Montgomery was glad to hear that. Their families had been around each other for so long. The opinion of the Wells’ family was important to him, and he was starting to feel terrible for missing so many parties. 

They reminded him of the old days when their father was still there. The Wells were always the last to leave a Shaw party, and vice versa. Montgomery remembered those days as enjoyable and carefree. Everything had always felt so certain and exciting. He longed to be that person again. He hadn’t been that man in some time, and the man he had become was sheltered from the world he once knew, and happy to remain that way. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m in the mood for a brandy,” Brody said, casting a cheeky smirk at his brother. “It’s a cool night, and that’s the kind of thing to warm me up.”

“That does sound enticing,” Montgomery said. “I can feel the warmth in my belly already.”

“Yes, but I must get a meal in you first,” Brody teased. “Before we have a situation like last time. You were climbing the trees as if you were a child. Thank heavens it was just you and me, and the neighbours weren’t there to see it.” 

“Yes, yes,” Montgomery sighed, remembering the last time he’d actually had any real fun. 

Montgomery was painfully aware that his brother had a close eye on him. It had been that way for some time, as if Brody expected him to break at any moment. Montgomery did his best to present himself as the man he had always been, but as the time passed, he felt as though he was forgetting who that man had ever been. 

In truth, he was happy to see his brother. It would make for a cheerier than usual evening. He would have a few drinks and sleep merrily rather than spend all night at his desk and in his books. Then in the morning, he would share breakfast with his mother before returning to his usual, lonely, and busy life. 

And Brody did exactly as he had promised. They had a meal and a few brandies and soon enough were seated comfortably beside the fire. Brody looked just like his father with his hair slicked back. 

He had a similar way of unbuttoning the top of his shirt when he was comfortable and slightly tipsy. The brothers joked about past experiences and the fun they’d had growing up. They didn’t do much together anymore, and it felt strange to accept that reality. Montgomery was feeling better. The feeling of sadness he’d been so afraid of had not found him yet, and he hoped it remained that way until he left.

Growing up, the brothers had shared everything. There had never been secrets. However, there was much that Montgomery did not mention that night. Like the severe status of his own melancholy. 

Some days, he thought he could see it – a dark void that lurked just behind him at every turn. It felt like a shadow of an unseen creature that stalked him. It kept him up at night and made it difficult to drag himself out of bed in the morning. He knew the treatment for it but could not take it as he was certain that once he had, he would not stop, and that would make it impossible to do his job. 

It would hinder his ability to treat his patients, and that was a risk he simply wasn’t ready to take. Yet, he knew that if he mentioned it to his brother and mother, they would insist on an intervention, and Montgomery wasn’t sure he could handle something like that. They would force him to take a break from his work, which was a nightmare he simply couldn’t face. It would certainly leave him far too vulnerable to his own thoughts.

So, he shut it away within himself and hoped that it wasn’t too visible on him. That night, Brody looked at him in a way that told him the façade was slipping.  

His brother would cast sideways glances and try a little too hard to force a laugh out of him. Things didn’t seem quite as natural between them as they always had been. 

“Don’t you get lonely in London?” Brody asked. “Out here we have so many friends and we know our neighbours well. When you write to me, you only ever mention work. You don’t speak of parties or friends or potential courtships.” 

“London has significantly more people than the country,” Montgomery said, twirling his glass in his hand. “And many more places to spend time with people. I’m too busy to do any of it, though.”

“Yes, but that’s just the thing,” Brody said. “Nobody actually gets to know each other. It’s just crowds of people passing by. Do you know everybody on your street?” 

“That would be impossible,” Montgomery said. 

“Exactly,” Brody responded with the snap of his fingers. “You’re lost in a sea of people in that city. It can’t be good for you. It makes me sad just to think about it.” 

“It’s not for everyone, but I’m helping, and that’s enough for me,” Montgomery said, hoping they wouldn’t rehash an old argument. “I’d be of no use as a physician out here. You’re all far too healthy.” 

“Until we break our bones,” Brody teased. 

Montgomery raised his glass in respect to it. 

Brody had been upset when Montgomery had chosen a vocation that took him to the city, convinced that it would change him and dirty his nature. 

“But what about you?” Brody asked. “You take care of everybody else, and there’s nobody to take care of you.” 

Montgomery smirked. “Are you putting yourself forward for the position?” he asked, knowing it would irk his brother. “There’s another room at my home if you’d like to be a live-in carer for me. You could go to those parties and tell me all about it!” 

Brody rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, Monty. Your life could do with a feminine touch.” 

“You don’t believe in romance,” Montgomery reminded him. 

“Yes, but I do believe there is something good in marriage,” Brody said. “A woman’s presence in the home is an important one, and it shouldn’t be taken for granted. Men and women have been marrying for as long as we’ve been in existence. There’s a good reason for that.” 

Montgomery wished that other men shared the same appreciation for women as his brother. He had seen them as patients, bruised and battered for reasons that hardly warranted such injuries. What broke his heart further was that the women seemed used to it. That it seemed acceptable. 

“I have no time for such things,” Montgomery said, clenching his jaw where his brother couldn’t see it. 

It wasn’t entirely true. Montgomery worked far harder than he needed to. There were often days when he had time, but he always found a way to fill them with something he could convince himself was important. 

His melancholy had impacted him so much that he wasn’t sure he was desirable to any good woman. 

He had been unable to cure his father’s illness before it took him, and he didn’t want to put other people through that same fate. Nobody had known just how ill his father had been when he died. It was a secret that was buried with him. 

Montgomery shuddered to think what the world might believe him to be if he were unable to save the man most important to him. Would anybody trust him with their families and children again? 

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he realized he had hardly been listening to Brody. He needed to escape his thoughts; his brother didn’t deserve such sadness from him. So, he took a large sip of his brandy and let its burn wake him up from it all. 

“Don’t you think it would be nice to have someone sort of humming about the house and taking care of things while you focus on your work?” Brody finished his ramble. 

“I have Mrs Right for that,” Montgomery said. “Although her style of humming does nothing but drive me mad.” 

“A housekeeper is no substitute for a wife,” Brody said sternly. “Father would have been upset with you for such a comment. He’d accuse you of comparing our lovely mother to the housekeeper.”

“What about you?” Montgomery changed the direction of the conversation. “You should be married soon, too.” 

“I’m aware of that,” Brody said. “Currently, I’m taking a good look at my options. It’s important to me that whoever I marry fits seamlessly into my life. You know how particular I can be.” 

“Ah, yes, of course,” Montgomery said. “You want perfection – forget whether or not you actually like the person.” 

“If she fits in, it would be impossible not to like her,” Brody said. “A woman who makes my life easier will always be welcome.” 

Montgomery cast his brother an amused look. “You do understand that this decision is for the rest of your life, right?” he asked. “Until either you or she takes your last breath.” 

“Yes, I know,” Brody said. “That’s why I can’t choose someone who might make me crazy. It’s a difficult decision, brother. If I’m honest, it scares me a little.” 

Montgomery shook his head with laughter. He and his brother were so different in that regard. The patients he saw with the best health and the longest lives were those happy within their marriages and families. 

Those who had known love and lived with it seemed to do better. It was a simple fact, an observation that could not be ignored. However, it was not the kind of information that Brody would take as intellectual. 

“Is there someone that you think fits the description?” Montgomery asked. “Somebody who might understand your desire for perfection and make it a possibility?”

“Well, Miss Emelia and I were joking about it earlier,” Brody said. “Nobody understands me better than she does. However, we’ve been good friends for so long that we simply don’t see each other in that light. It would be like marrying a sister.” 

“Never mind that disastrous hostess she’s known to be,” Montgomery reminded him, instantly feeling bad about mentioning it, knowing the truth of the situation.

“I thought you said we weren’t allowed to tease her,” Brody said. 

“Only about tonight because it wasn’t her fault,” Montgomery finally confessed. “The broken arm left the dogs unattended. They got into your dinner tonight.” 

“I see,” Brody said. “Well, I don’t think there’s much chance of us becoming husband and wife. She wants to fall in love, to be swept off her feet and made to feel special.” 

“Is that asking too much?” Montgomery joked. 

“Of course not,” Brody said. “It’s just a lot to keep up with for the rest of one’s life.” 

“There’s always Miss Hannah,” Montgomery said, glad that he managed to turn the spotlight onto his brother. 

“I don’t know her as well as I should,” Brody said. “Not since we all grew up and started our lives. She’s beautiful and enjoyable to be around, but it will take a fair amount of courtship to get to know her well, and I’m not sure if I have the energy for all that.” 

“The energy for it?” Montgomery said, bursting into laughter. “There’s no way around that one, brother. You can’t have marriage without a courtship, I’m afraid.” 

“What if I were to treat it rather like a job interview?” Brody asked. “An ad in the papers and an extensive questionnaire?”

That really sent Montgomery into a laughing fit. “Is that your idea of romance? Honestly, brother, what kind of woman would be happy to enter a marriage in that way?” 

“The right one,” Brody said, raising a finger into the air. “If it is suitable to the woman, then she will be suitable to me.” 

Montgomery’s laughter settled into a quiet giggle, and finally, Brody laughed at his own absurdity, too. The conversation had completely devolved as it often did between the brothers. It was the first sign that they were nearing the threshold of having had too much to drink. 

Montgomery sipped back the last of his brandy and knew that soon he would need to find a pillow for his head. It was quiet in the country, the kind of peace that he missed some nights. The fire still crackled, but no new wood would be added. It would be left to die out as the house fell into slumber. 

He was eager for the way the sun warmed up the ground outside in the mornings, and how it felt slow, even though he would need to hurry back to London. 

Looking over to his brother, he saw that his eyes had grown heavy, too. So, they sat in silence and watched the flames lower until there was nothing but hot, glowing coal left in the fireplace. 

“I best head to bed,” Montgomery said, rising to his feet. “I owe it to my patients to be well-rested when I see them.” 

“Father was so proud of you,” Brody said. “He would have wanted you to live your life, to take a wife and have children. He always said that his family was his greatest achievement.” 

How could Montgomery tell him that he no longer remembered his father that way? All he ever remembered was his frail, sickly frame as he clung to his last moments of life, and Montgomery prayed with all his might for a miracle. 

He couldn’t. But he couldn’t say nothing, either. 

“My heart isn’t sturdy enough for the fairer sex, brother,” Montgomery said, placing his glass down on the table. “I fear what it might do to me. As a physician, I owe it to myself to speak out against it.” 

That explanation seemed to suffice as Brody tossed his head back in a joyous laugh. His brother got to his feet and threw his arm around his shoulders. They walked together towards their rooms, just on opposite sides of the hall. 

“It’s good to have you here, Monty,” Brody said as he turned the knob to his room. “Nobody laughs together quite as well as you and I do. It’s refreshing.” 

“It’s true,” Montgomery agreed. “I only hope we did not wake Mother.” 

He closed the door behind him and was eager to lie on his bed. He wanted his mind quiet and for the world to fall away for a few moments. Sleep seemed to be the only time he truly felt as though he’d escaped his world. It was a pity it didn’t come to him often enough. Some days, sleep was all he longed for. 

Perhaps, he thought, he should drink more brandy in the evenings. Was that a suitable cure for an ailment of his mind? He would consider it seriously in the morning. For now, it was time for his only remedy, and as he closed his eyes, he sank into his dreams quicker than he had in some time. Only, he dreamed that he was chasing wild dogs through the Wells’ estate, shouting out apologies while the women cowered and his brother laughed wildly. 

 

Chapter Three

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Emelia said, placing her teacup down on the saucer. “I mean, I understand you have his best interest at heart, but I think that crosses a boundary.” 

Mr Shaw sipped his tea, unbothered by her discomfort, as was often the case between the pair.  He thought about it for a brief moment. 

“I can’t exactly do nothing,” he said. “I can see how he is struggling. He needs help in his life. He just won’t listen to me about it.” 

The disagreement was over a favour that Mr Shaw had asked of her. The reason for his visit that day. 

“I understand your intentions,” Emelia said. “But I’ve known your brother all my life. It is not my place to find a wife for him.” 

Mr Shaw didn’t seem frustrated with her, which was a relief. She didn’t like to say no to him, and he didn’t often ask anything of her. She had been surprised when he’d broached the topic of a favour in the first place. 

“I struggle to forget what he looked like last night,” Mr Shaw said. “He is thinner and dishevelled. Even when he laughs, he does so with a sense of sadness. He’s hardly made any friends in London, and that isolation can’t be good for him. He confessed to me yesterday that he forgets to eat.” 

When Mr Shaw was upset about something, it often reminded her of when he was younger. There was a familiar manner in which he frowned and stared off into the distance, as if the conversation was taking place elsewhere. 

“He carries a lot of sadness, yes,” Emelia said. “We all manage this differently. Perhaps what is best for him is to manage this on his own.” 

Mr Shaw shook his head. “It is not good for him if he forgets to eat. I want to see him happy again.” 

“He is much like your father,” Emelia said, hoping to guide the conversation in a different direction. “They have a similar temperament.” 

“Equally as serious, you mean,” Mr Shaw said with a smile. 

He had arrived at their home that morning, tense. His back had been stiff, and even his smile had seemed distant and forced. She had seen him like that a few times before when something really bothered him. So, when he had expressed that he was there to visit her, she knew that he needed it, and she was happy to welcome him in. 

“I want to lift his spirits,” Mr Shaw said. “What if we convince him of someone he knows well. Miss Hannah, perhaps,” he suggested. 

How he glanced at her told Emelia that he was well aware of how close he was to crossing the line. They’d been such good friends, though, that the line was often blurred. 

She was amused at how blind he’d been to Hannah’s behaviour around him. Had he really not noticed how she lit up when he walked into the room, or how hard she often tried to make her way over into his conversation? 

That was the way men were, she’d learned in her short life. Subtlety was often lost on them. However, it was not in Hannah’s nature to be forward enough for Mr Shaw to notice. If there were to be a courtship between them, it would be up to Emelia to urge it along somehow. 

“Won’t you help me?” Mr Shaw asked. 

“No,” she answered plainly. “I’m afraid I must refuse. I don’t think it is wise to meddle in the love lives of others. That is something that should happen naturally and when the time is right.” 

She waited for him to launch into his usual lecture about how love didn’t exist, but he didn’t. 

“You love to help people,” he argued instead. “You’re always hosting parties to bring people together and spread cheer.” 

“And you’re always rescuing those parties from disaster,” she said with a chuckle. “Something like this cannot recover as easily from your intervention, I’m afraid.” 

The pair shared a laugh, and she could see that he was already starting to unwind. She took another sip of her tea. Things were never tense between them for long, and at the end of the day, she was happy that he came to her when he needed help with something. 

It made her feel that there was still something left of her youth. Mr Shaw was always a reminder of simpler times, and even if the conversation was unusual, she was happy to see him. 

“Your parties are wonderful,” he said. “I know they cause you a great deal of distress, but I assure you, everybody always has a good time. There’s nothing like an Emelia Wells soiree.” 

“I still won’t help you. Flatter me all you like,” she teased. 

Mr Shaw brushed his fingers through his hair, pressing it all back neatly into place. It was a habit of his when something stressed him. He had always preferred things to be as perfect as possible, but when something bothered him, he struggled to cope with even the smallest thing out of place. 

When he reached out and straightened the teaspoon on his saucer, she knew it was really bad. 

“Rather than all this elaborate planning and intricacy, why not just speak to your brother about it?” Emelia suggested. “You’ve always been close. Surely he will speak to you if there is a problem.” 

“I try,” he explained. “Every time I see him, I hope I can get him to be honest about what is happening within the confines of his mind, but he is too stubborn to allow it. As long as his career is still thriving, he will report that all is going well.” 

“Then perhaps it really is,” Emelia said. 

Mr Shaw shook his head. “I know him too well to believe it,” he said. “And I miss the man he once was.” 

Emelia thought of Hannah. Would she have requested the same thing had she seen her sister’s happiness decline? How would she behave? Honestly, there wasn’t much she wouldn’t do if she knew her sister needed help. 

She felt sympathy towards Mr Shaw then. 

“Perhaps I should speak with Lady Michelle,” Mr Shaw said. “When last did you speak with her?” 

Lady Michelle Parker was a neighbour at the end of the street, and Emelia made a considerable effort to spend as little time as possible with her. It wasn’t that she was an awful woman, but there was hardly ever a conversation of interest when in her presence. 

She spoke of mundane things like new shipments of fabric and the effects of an early summer on the allergies of her cocker spaniel. 

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Emelia said. 

“I will not ask you to be involved with it,” Mr Shaw said. “I understand that you do not agree with the interference.” 

“That is not what I mean in this instance,” she said quickly. “Lady Michelle is a frivolous woman. I have a difficult time imagining the two of them in a private conversation together. They have nothing in common.” 

“I don’t know Lady Michelle well enough,” Mr Shaw said. “I see her on occasion and often in passing conversation. She does not seem too interested in me.” 

“She isn’t interested in much,” Emelia said. “That’s part of the problem, I suspect.” 

“I see,” Mr Shaw said. 

There was a small sign in Mr Shaw – a manner in which the expression around his eyes settled that told her he was feeling defeated by the conversation. Clearly, he had been certain that she would provide him with some help. 

“I’ll host a tea party,” Emelia said. “I’ll invite Lady Michelle, and Hannah will be there. I can make sure that Dr Shaw and Hannah are seated next to each other. That is the most I can do. It is up to them to find their way to each other.” 

“That is good enough for me,” Mr Shaw said. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

She smiled. The thought of hosting yet another failed party was not her best one. Already, she worried about what might go wrong when the guests arrived. Then again, Dr Shaw’s happiness was more important than her potential embarrassment. She had always survived, and she could survive another social catastrophe if it meant that Dr Shaw would get help. If it meant that Mr Shaw felt less alone in his attempts to ease his brother’s sadness.