Marrying Miss Hemingford Read Online Free PDF

younger than Anne herself, and thin as a reed. Once she had been beautiful, but the hard life she led, out on the beach, prey towind and salt spray, had darkened and coarsened her complexion. But her eyes were a brilliant blue. ‘I thank you, ma’am, with all me ’eart.’
    â€˜Think nothing of it. Do you think you can manage? I mean, you do not think Tildy should go to hospital?’
    â€˜No, I don’t. People who go in there, come out with more trouble than they went in with, if they come out at all. I’ll look after her.’
    â€˜But don’t you have to go to work?’
    â€˜Tildy is more important. We shall just ’ave to ’ope her pa finds the shoals until she’s well enough.’
    â€˜He’s a fisherman?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    Anne fished in her reticule and found a guinea and some small change. ‘Will this help?’
    â€˜Only if you want to buy fish with it. I don’t tek charity.’
    â€˜No, of course not. Very well, sell me fish; lobsters and crabs and anything else that’s going. And if there’s change, I’ll take a dip in the sea and so will my aunt.’
    â€˜I should give you the fish for your help, not sell it,’ the woman said doubtfully.
    Tildy had been listening to this and could not keep quiet a moment longer. ‘She could buy the monster.’
    Anne laughed. ‘I don’t think I should know how to cook a monster.’
    She turned as Dr Tremayne came into the room, rather like a whirlwind, all blow and hurry, his hair in more disarray than ever, but it made no difference, Anne’s heart began to jump in her throat and it was all she could do to maintain an outward show of composure.
    â€˜You found her, then?’ he queried.
    â€˜Yes.’ She held his glance, searching his face. His brown eyes told of something she could not quite fathom; it might have been weariness, but it was more than that— sadness or bitterness perhaps. Was it because of the horrors of what he had seen as a doctor, frustration for the ills of the poor people he treated, which one man alone could not cure, or something in his past? Whatever it was made her feel uncomfortable, as if she were responsible. ‘I must go, my aunt will be wondering what has become of me, I only meant to be out an hour or so.’ She paused. ‘I shall arrange to make a donation as soon as I can.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ He did not know what else to say. He had misjudged her, but what did it matter if he had? He was merely a physician struggling against the odds in the poorest part of the community and she was a woman of means, that was obvious. Once he might have been her equal, not any more.
    â€˜Where shall the fish be sent?’ Mrs Smith asked.
    Anne gave her the address, wondering what cook would say when she was presented with a week’s supply of fish all at once. She could not remember if her aunt was fond of fish, though they had both enjoyed the turbot the night before. She turned to Tildy. ‘Goodbye, Tildy. Be a good girl now, and when you are better, perhaps your mama will bring you to see me.’ She kissed the child’s forehead, smiled at Mrs Smith, who tried to thank her, then held out her hand to the doctor. ‘Goodbye, Dr Tremayne. I shall tell my friends of your good work. It deserves to be recognised.’
    â€˜Thank you.’
    She retreated hastily before she could let herself down by telling him she hoped they would meet again, which would have been far too bold. She hurried from the house and made her way home as briskly as she could.
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    Justin Tremayne watched until the door had closed on her, then turned to Mrs Smith. ‘Look after that child, madam. She needs rest and…’ He stopped. What was the good of telling her she also needed good food? ‘Send for me if you have the slightest cause for concern. Head wounds can be funny things. She was lucky Miss Hemingford