Page 10 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

“Who else would it be?”

“She’d better not show her face ‘round ‘ere.”

Were they talking about…

“I’ll pay once I’ve got me wages at the end of the week, Doctor.” Mr Sykes’ voice drew his attention from the gossips. The man left, adjusting the fabric of his breeches around his buttocks.

Gabriel pulled out the ledger from beneath the counter and made a note of what his patient owed.

The ladies whispered, but not quietly enough. His ears pricked.

“It was the fanciest coach. I’ve never seen the likes of it afore. Much bigger than Baron Lipton’s chaise, I tell you.”

“Where was it going?”

“Where do you think? I sent my lad to chase after it.”

He glanced at Mother, who seemed to be fixated on arranging the bottles on the countertop.

For God’s sake, this was a surgery, not a gossip monger’s haven. “Ladies, can I help you with something?”

“I wish you could, Doctor Sharpe, but I’m fit as a fiddle right now,” Mrs Briggs said with a saucy smile.

The shop door flew open, almost knocking the bell off its hook. “Mam, it stopped at Silverdale!”

“I told you.” Mrs Briggs nodded.

Billy Briggs continued, “An’ some proper lady got out in a fine frock with a young lad and a girl.”

Gabriel’s throat tightened.

“Then Mrs Dixon took the boy and girl into the house. Right fancy, they were.”

Gabriel’s heart skipped a beat. All the ladies turned towards him. They all knew—Blythe Dixon had returned.

CHAPTER 5

Blythe’s stomach grumbled at the yeasty scent of freshly baked bread. Inhaling deeper, she snuggled into her pillow before her eyes shot open. Bright light haloed the curtains in her childhood room. Why had no one woken her? She had planned to be up with the dawn, as she used to. Everyone would already be out in the fields, yet she languished in bed.

She threw back the curtains. Only a few hens pecked at the dry earth in the yard.

Where were the children?

At the washstand, she poured water from the cream ceramic jug into a bowl before splashing it over her face. From the chest of drawers, she pulled out an old shift and short stays she could tie in the front. She opened a trunk and inspected the folded day dresses. The layers of blue, pink, peach and yellow silk were all unsuitable.

She pulled out the plainest muslin gown she owned, but it was still too fancy for farmwork. Perhaps she should purchase more robust materials to make some day dresses that she could work in. But that would mean…

“Do not be a coward, Blythe,” she murmured. Avoiding Midthorpe would be impossible.

She threw on the gown but could not reach all the buttons. Perhaps Mrs Lowe could help.

Almost bouncing down the stairs, only her footfalls echoed off the panelled walls until she approached the kitchen, and Mama’s voice rang out. “Make sure there’s plenty of cider on the cart. Oh, is that the time? We need to get these elevenses out to the fields.”

Mama spotted her. “Why are you out of bed and why did you not send for a maid?”

Three maids bustled around the kitchen, packing crusty rolls and rounds of cheese into baskets. Mrs Lowe removed more bread from the oven.

“They have enough to do without attending to me. Why did you not wake me earlier?”