He did not respond, and Jane noticed he had not taken off his hat, or his coat. His jaw jutted forward as he ground his teeth in thought. “Lindridge Hall is not a fit place for you, ma’am,” he said after a moment. “You should stay here. Let the magistrate handle this.”
“The magistrate?”
“I let him know last night that the doctor had gone missing. We’ve been searching the hillside all morning for him.”
She felt herself grow pale. “And there was no trace?”
“No. No trace at all. Are you—are you sure you don’t know anything else?”
“He rode out into the storm,” she said.
“On whose horse?”
“I … I don’t … I stayed at Lindridge Hall, he went out alone—”
“Ma’am,” he said, sharply, and she fell silent. His nostrils flared as he drew his temper back in. “I know the doctor cannot be dissuaded from acts of heroism—I’ve tried more than any man. But I also know you two have been, pardon me, in an adjustment period. Getting to know what you intend, and all. If something happened between you two…”
An adjustment period. He knew she had stayed at Lindridge Hall longer than Augustine had wanted her to. He knew she had then returned and worked beside her husband with a coolness that did not follow from the flare of attraction between them during their courtship. What did he think had happened? Why exactly had he called the magistrate?
Her blood iced in her veins. She clutched her satchel more tightly.
Had something about her convinced Mr. Lowell that she would have harmed Augustine intentionally? Had he seen a monstrousness in her that even she had not known?
“I am frightened for my husband,” Jane said, fisting a hand in her skirts to keep her balance. “I have no idea what has happened to him, and I blame myself for his loss, because if I had not gone to him that night, he might still be tending to his patients. What more do you want of me? Do you wish me to weep? I am not the kind to weep. Do you wish me to conjure him from the ether? I can no more do that than change the color of the sky. I must be at Lindridge Hall, in case he returns there. The servants do not spend the night. If he comes to the door at midnight, who will be there to feed him? To wash his feet? Me. I will be there. I will tend to him, because I sent him out into the dark, not knowing a storm would take him.” The words poured out of her, a torrent that left her breathless and choking.
Mr. Lowell was quiet for a long time. Then he murmured, “I want to find him, too.”
It nearly broke her, the momentary thought that she might not have to do this alone. But she stopped short of confessing her plans, too aware that they would sound mad.
“There is a letter,” she said instead, clearing her throat. “In the office. Asking for a locum. Please send it. Larrenton needs somebody, if they cannot have him.”
“Of course, ma’am.” And he left her there.
She fled the surgery as soon as his footsteps faded. Mrs. Purl stood across the way, speaking with another woman, smiling in the late afternoon sun. Jane ducked down an alleyway and walked herself in circles until she was at last calm enough to hire their ride back to Lindridge Hall.
As she climbed up into the carriage and took her seat across from Mrs. Purl, Jane realized she had not asked Mr. Lowell how Abigail Yew fared, or even checked if the woman was still in Augustine’s bed.
Her cheeks flushed and she felt sweat stand out upon her brow at the thought. But surely, if Abigail’s recovery had stalled, Mr. Lowell would have told her. He would have blamed her, or begged her to remain and try to help. Anything but his coldness, his remove. No, that cold must have meant that Abigail was better—no thanks to her, not anymore.
“Mrs. Lawrence?”
Jane dragged herself back together. Mrs. Purl had been audience to the whole dance of emotions that must have possessed her face. “Yes, Mrs. Purl?”
“Was there word, at the surgery? Have you heard at all from the doctor?”
Jane shook her head. “Mr. Lowell is still searching. We have sent for a locum.”
Aren’t you afraid, ma’am? Jane expected her to ask, but instead she chewed at her chapped lower lip and said, “Only, it’s coming up on the end of the month, and there’s salaries to be handled.”
Jane almost laughed. Salaries! Of course. And of course she, the accountant, should have already been primed to handle them. She should have drawn up the cheques while she was at the surgery. But she’d forgotten.