Doctor...to Duchess?. Annie O'Neil
died everything had become an unknown. What did she know about being a thirty-something widow with two children and a general practice to build? Absolutely nothing.
And now, finally—after so much soul-searching and a huge burst of encouragement from her children, who were joyously pursuing their passion for music—she’d found something that was her own. Something solid. Safe.
Despite the clinic’s retro vibe, she loved every square of the stone exterior. Every bud on the climbing roses just threatening to blossom in the soft spring air. Every patient they helped in this chocolate-box village brought a smile to her lips. Speaking of which, she owed Dr. Carney an update before she went back to her cottage. The overnight nurse would give him his meds later but Julia always like to check in on him around teatime. He’d dedicated his life to this place, and she wanted him to know he’d made the best choice when he’d selected her to take over.
She poked her head round the corner of his room and saw he was resting quietly. She placed a couple of fingers on his wrist and checked the heart-rate monitor. His obs looked good, considering. Truth of the matter was, she wasn’t all that sure how much longer he had, but nothing would stop her from making sure he had the most comprehensive care and comfort he could enjoy in his final days.
“His heart’s in the right place, you know.”
Julia started, realizing Dr. Carney wasn’t just talking in his sleep.
“Who?” Stupid question. You both know who he’s talking about, ninny.
“Oliver.” Dr. Carney opened his eyes to meet hers, and Julia was still amazed to see how clear and blue they were despite his rapidly declining health. “He’s just never really recovered and it makes being here …” He hesitated. “It makes all this quite difficult to deal with.”
Recovered from what? Being born into gentry, being handed an amazing estate on a plate and rejecting it? Or did Dr. Carney mean something more immediate?
“Do you mean seeing you here?” Julia sat down when he indicated she should perch on the side of the bed. She tugged at the corners of the handmade quilt one of the villagers had brought in.
“Oh, I’m sure that wasn’t very nice for Oliver. We probably should have told him, but no. That wasn’t what I meant. I’ll leave him to tell you those things.”
“Tell me what?” Julia felt the hairs prickle on the back of her neck.
“It’s not my place to say, dear, but give him time. Patience.”
“Dr. Carney, if you’re trying to get me to understand a man who is set to inherit all of this and chooses to be anywhere but here …” She paused for a moment. Telling Dr. Carney she thought a man passing up the chance to run his very own family practice was bonkers might not go down well. Then again, if Oliver’s plans didn’t involve the clinic at all, she had to ramp up her fight to keep it alive. She needed to know where she stood. “You don’t think he plans to sell the place, do you?”
“Now that’s just idle gossip, my dear. Nothing’s been set into motion, has it?”
Dr. Carney tutted as he gave Julia’s hand an affectionate pat. “I’ve probably already said too much. Just give him a chance. The two of you are an awful lot alike, you know.”
“Ha! I find that hard to believe. He seems to like the high-flying life and I’m quite happy here in good old-fashioned St. Bryar.” Even as she said the words they didn’t sit well. The little she did know about Oliver was that he was passionate about medicine. And that he cared for Dr. Carney. It must’ve hurt coming in here and seeing a man he’d known his whole life in this condition. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know the man at all. I guess his arrival just took me by surprise.”
“It’s all right, dear. No one takes easily to change.”
“Isn’t that the truth!” Julia quipped, meaning Oliver, then realized Dr. Carney had most likely meant her. Uh-oh. She thought she’d changed a lot since she’d come here. Maybe not. She peered at Dr. Carney, hoping for more answers, but he just smiled and looked toward the window. Just outside, a crab apple tree was in full blossom. Beautiful. If everything could stay exactly like this … Screech! Wait a minute. Embrace the change. Embrace the change. And give Oliver a chance. Maybe his plans for this place were for the better. Maybe he’d be sticking around for a while … An involuntary ribbon of excitement unfurled within her tummy.
Easy, tiger. Stop reading into things.
Julia gave Dr. Carney’s hand a small squeeze. “Rest now, Doctor, it’s been a long day.”
Dr. Carney gave her a knowing smile. “Sweet dreams, Dr. MacKenzie.”
Oliver vaulted over the centuries-old stable door. It was how he’d always entered the kitchen as a boy and suddenly—some fifteen years since he’d done it last—he felt a rush of impulse to do it again.
Sentimentality? Or just plain whimsy, because he’d met a beautiful woman? A beautiful woman who had tilted the world of St. Bryar on a whole new axis. He shrugged off the questions as a steaming stack of hot cross buns came into view.
“Mr. Toff! Hands off!”
The cry was familiar and so was the voice.
“Clara!”
“C’mere, you. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you since you’ve been back!” He was instantly surrounded with the same warm embrace he’d enjoyed as a boy and, after the shock of seeing Dr. Carney, he was grateful for the familiarity.
Clara Bates had been with the family for over forty years and showed few signs of releasing her iron grip on the Bryar Hall kitchens.
“It’s only been a few hours!” He pulled out of the tight embrace and held her at arm’s length. “Now. Tell me why I’m not allowed one of your delicious buns.”
Pulling the platter of steaming baked goods out of his reach, she explained, “They’re for the Cakes and Bakes stall at the church.”
“Sorry?” There’d never been so much as a toast soldier at church services in his day.
“It’s new,” she continued with a broad smile. “One of our Dr. MacKenzie’s ideas. We’re raising money for one of those portable heart-attack machines.”
“A portable AED?” he prompted. It was a good idea. In such a remote hamlet, they should have had one the second they’d come on the market. He should have thought of it. Then done something about it.
“That’s it. If we make a certain amount, we can get a matching grant from the government or something like that. Dr. MacKenzie has all the bumph.”
Oliver rocked back on his heels, finding purchase on the ancient cast-iron oven. Wait a minute: our Dr. MacKenzie? That was quick work. Making herself part of the woodwork here at St. Bryar was quite a feat, considering the villagers didn’t consider you a local unless your family had tucked a good three hundred years under their collective belts. Impressive. And ruddy annoying. He’d come back to nail down how things ticked at Bryar Hall, but with Julia changing things left, right and center, it didn’t seem anything would be still enough to get a proper perspective.
He felt his soft spot for her become less pliable.
“You don’t know the half of it,” the cook continued without noticing the creases beginning to form on Oliver’s forehead. “She’s just come along and blown a breath of fresh air into everything. Really made the place come alive again since your mother passed. Of course, it’s all very different from when the duchess was with us. Your mother was very traditional, wasn’t she? Liked things just so.” She gave Oliver a wide-eyed look and a squeeze on the arm.
He knew what she meant. His mother had been renowned for living in the world of How Things Used To Be Done. If old-fashioned decorum was your thing, Bryar Hall was the place to be. One piece of cutlery out of place on a table laid for fifty,