“Not exactly.”
“Then what,exactly?” Elizabeth pressed.
“I know someone who is familiar with that line of work and the people who undertake it.”
“How familiar?”
“Extremely.”
“And how well do you know this mystery person?” Fletcher asked.
“Extremely well.”
Brogan had that look on his face that always portended mischief. “How extremely well? A neighbor? A rival for some long-ago lady’s affection?”
Barnabus pushed out a heavy, tense breath. “None of those things.”
“Then how do you know him?” Fletcher asked again.
“I knowher—”
That captured everyone’s attention. He was known among them as the eternal bachelor, the doctor who had no interest in love or connections.
“—because she’s my wife.”
theBachelor
and theBride
by Mr. King
Installment I
in which our Hero inquires of a Wise Woman and receives Instructions of a most unexpected nature!
Centuries ago, in a quiet corner of the border country, a young man of medicine by the name of Duncan worked tirelessly on behalf of those who placed their well-being in his hands. Not having the expertise nor the implements of our doctors today, the pull he felt to protect the people in his care often sat heavy on his heart and mind. He dedicated himself to healing and comforting, but, as was far too often the case in years gone by—and, alas, in our time as well—he found himself as familiar with the churchyard as he was with his own cottage.
As had happened far too often before, he found himself tired, discouraged, and heartbroken after a harrowing few weeks of looking after impossible-to-cure patients, an illness having ravaged his area of the kingdom. One patient remained in his care, her recovery entirely in question.
The young girl was now an orphan, Duncan having been unable to cure her parents of the very ailment that still threatened his patient. He had tried but failed in his attempts to cure the ill-fated family, and he had little hope of saving the child’s life. Duncan was not one to simplydeclare defeat when faced with considerable obstacles, but hewasthe sort who was willing to admit when he had exhausted his own knowledge.
And thus it was that Duncan Endicott, man of medicine, donned his best linen shirt and doublet, though both were several years out of fashion, and smoothed his Van Dyke beard and moustache, before placing his capotain hat on his head. Satisfied he would make a favorable impression, Duncan undertook the rambling walk through the nearby forest to the cottage of an aged woman known to all in the area as Granny Winter, orGeamhradh Seanmhairas she was called in the ancient tongue of Scotland.
It was widely believed—and Granny Winter had never disabused anyone of the assumption—that she was, in fact, the legendary Wise Woman, theCailleach, the figure from ancient tales who had come into existence shortly after the dawn of mankind, making her younger than the salmon but older than the eagle. TheCailleachwas the bearer of great wisdom, the holder of great secrets, the creator of the hills and valleys, the queen of autumn and winter, the bringer of storms, the overseer of life on earth. She was revered, and a bit feared. Whether or not Granny Winter was the Wise Woman of old, shewasan old and wise woman.
Her cottage was not hidden, neither was it difficult to reach, but few people drew near it. Whispers and hushed conversations about the mysteries of this aging woman revealed that arriving at her doorstep was not a quest undertaken by the faint of heart.
Duncan Endicott had never been the least fainthearted.
He knocked at the rough-hewn door of the thatched-roof cottage, a sprig of wildflowers in his hand, hoping theoffering would convey to Granny Winter that he had not come with ill intentions.
His knock was answered by a young woman who had lived with Granny Winter for a handful of years. No one knew her origins nor how she had come to make her home there. Duncan had not been born in the area and had even less idea of her origins than anyone else did. It was widely acknowledged that Miss Sorcha Báirbre and Granny Winter were not actually kin, and yet, they looked upon each other quite as if they were.
Sorcha was near about Duncan’s age. He had taken notice of her the first time he’d seen her after moving to this corner of the kingdom only two years earlier. He’d been struck by the sparkle in her deep-brown eyes and by the eagerness with which she undertook anything and everything. And he had hardly been immune to her soft and quiet beauty. Mystery surrounded her, yet she was clearly liked and embraced by the townspeople.
Seeing her at Granny Winter’s door lifted his spirits and fortified his courage.
“Geamhradh Seanmhair,” Sorcha called back into the cottage, “the doctor is here.”