Garin proved himself an adept dancer and led Miss Brightley with grace and confidence. The sweeping turns delighted her, and she wondered why she'd always avoided the ballroom, preferring to observe the masquerade from shadowy alcoves or oversized columns. Lisabeth always declared there were few things so freeing as a 'bracing dance'. Idrielle had to admit it was... enjoyable.
For her amusement, Garin pointed out some of his patients, many of which were complete oddballs with peculiar habits and offered interesting anecdotes of some of his encounters during his profession.
"Ah, yes, and there, in the gaudy purple fringe gown, is Mrs. Foyle. Keeps twenty chickens loose at her front gate ever since a fortune teller predicted her death."
He leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper.
"That was nearly thirteen years ago—the dear woman possesses no sense of time."
Miss Brightley, catching the woman's eye, gave her a benign smile to which she, seeming at first shocked, returned with a beaming one of her own.
"Drink," said the doctor, guiding her around a rather overzealous couple, "makes her less paranoid, I'm afraid. It's rumoured her daughter spikes her glass before dinner parties."
"And what of the balding gentlemen in the yellow tailcoat? Are you acquainted with him?"
"Sir Whetherby Melbourne, a more conceited peacock never lived, although he possesses an impressive collection of Japanese art. His cousin," he pointed out a pudgy fellow with double chins and watery eyes, "suffers from a case of peas."
Miss Brightley turned to stare at him.
"I beg your pardon?"
The doctor chuckled.
"Indeed you should. Six months out of a year Sir Melbourne's cousin consumes nothing but peas and water, saying he receives spiritual visions of his late wife. Sir Melbourne has asked that I treat the man but insist on knowing the solution himself!"
His exhale suggested it was unusually challenging for him to remain composed.
"But there's nothing whatever the matter with the man. He smuggles roast suckling to his bedchambers almost every evening and on more than one occasion I've tailed him as far as Laughly's Inn, where they serve perhaps the best roast pheasant and gravy in Harwickshire."
This time, Miss Brightley could not contain herself and couldn't wait to share the ridiculousness of it all with Lizzy before bed.
"Reminds me of a character from a book I read."
"Lord Cassenby of The Merry Heights of Dayne, I presume?"
"Have you read it?"
"I have, and it holds a position among my favourites on my bookcase. It is my opinion that Brown rushed the ending and failed to mention particular details regarding the countess of Waybury."
"I was of the same opinion! And Lady Fontayne proved an unnecessary character since Lord Cassenby's brother was the culprit in the theft of the countess' prized jewels."
"I wholeheartedly agree," said the doctor. Perchance you're familiar with the tale of The Sherpherd Boy and the Bard...?"
They traversed topics with the ease of water flowing along the crevices of rocks along a stream, from literature to pastimes. The only interruption they encountered was when a gallant young man with a glossy head of hair and his pretty, dimpled cheek partner passed so closely, Miss Brightley had the impression they were eavesdropping.
Glancing over her shoulder, she and the man locked eyes.
"He's been trying to get your attention for some time now," said the doctor with indifferent calm. "I wondered how long it would be before he attempted vis-à-vis."
YOU ARE READING
Bride of Choice
Historical Fiction[Cover Design by Angel S.] Wade Lambert was known throughout the enchanting countryside of Harwickshire by friends and relatives alike to be the perfect epitome of trouble. And his handsome features and air of sophistication did not help matters as...
