The Physician's Irish Lady Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for Susan Macatee

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  The Physician’s Irish Lady

  by

  Susan Macatee

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The Physician’s Irish Lady

  COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Susan Macatee

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First American Rose Edition, 2014

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-038-3

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for Susan Macatee

  THOROUGHLY MODERN AMANDA

  “I love a good time travel story, and this one did not disappoint.”

  ~Bitten by Books for AReCafe

  ~*~

  THE CHRISTMAS BALL

  3.5 Sweet Peas at Mrs. Condit & Friends Read Books

  ~*~

  CASSIDY'S WAR

  Finalist, Historical category

  Colorado Romance Writers 2013 Award of Excellence

  2013 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence

  “A very good read. Written well and a good plot! I recommend it to any who love this genre of book!”

  ~Let's Talk Romance Reviews, 4 sighs

  ~*~

  ERIN'S REBEL

  Finalist, Paranormal category

  Ancient City Romance Authors

  2010 Reader's Choice Award

  “I love historical romances and Susan Macatee did a beautiful job with this one...”

  ~Night Owl Reviews, 4.5 hearts

  ~*~

  CONFEDERATE ROSE

  1st place, Historical category

  First Coast Romance Writers

  2010 Beacon Contest for Published Authors

  2nd place, Historical category

  2010 New England Reader's Choice Bean Pot Award

  Dedication

  To my sister, Donna Giovannitti...

  Keep on fighting!

  Chapter One

  April 15, 1867

  Keara Fagan gripped the small cloth satchel against her chest and peered at the passengers boarding the open third-class car, as the engine spewed steam outside the Philadelphia station. An old woman clutched two unkempt children to her breast as a burly man with wild hair and beard settled beside her. Another man took the seat opposite, his clothes and partially shaven face covered in soot.

  He caught her gaze and smirked, revealing yellowed teeth. He patted the empty seat at his side. Keara shuddered and turned toward the ticket booth. She hadn’t yet purchased her ticket, wanting to first view the third-class accommodations. She’d traveled in worse conditions by ship but couldn’t abide sitting so close to strange men for the length of the journey. Glancing toward the second-class car, she noted the passengers seemed better dressed and a bit more genteel. The men appeared well-groomed and respectable, a few escorting women who they assisted onto the train.

  Keara bit her lip. She’d never been treated well by any man, even her own father. She scanned the fares posted on the ticket booth and sighed. Second class cost more than she could afford. She counted the coins tucked into a small purse in her satchel. Just enough for a one way trip to York, but she wouldn’t have enough left to buy a meal in the dining car. She’d grab a loaf of bread from a vender at the station to sustain her on the trip.

  She smoothed her worn skirts and approached the ticket booth.

  The attendant’s gaze slid down her body. “Third class, Miss?”

  “No. ’Tis a seat in the second class car, I’d be wantin’.” She held her breath as his polite smile turned into a scowl.

  “Second class?” He stared her down. “Those tickets are expensive. Where is it you want to go?”

  “York.” She dug in her purse producing enough coins to cover the fare.

  He studied the coins as if suspecting they weren’t real. After glancing left to right, he held out his hand and accepted them into his moist palm. He inspected them again, dropped them into his cash drawer, and held out a ticket.

  “Have a good trip, Miss.” He pointed toward the second class car. “Board over there.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Keara deposited the ticket into her satchel and strolled toward the car. She stepped back as an elderly gentleman assisted an old woman on board. The conductor took their bags.

  Keara wrapped both arms around her satchel. No one would be taking her bag. It contained all she had left in the world. She remembered she must buy something to eat, or she’d starve on the long ride.

  Approaching the vendors along the platform, she inhaled the heady scent of freshly-baked bread, as well as other savory treats. But she needed to watch her cash.

  An old woman in a head scarf grinned at her with a toothless smile. “Would you like some bread for your trip, Miss?”

  Keara had trouble understanding her words in the heavily-accented English, but the loaves she held out made her meaning clear.

  “How much?”

  “Twelve pence,” the old woman mumbled.

  Keara frowned and fished for her coin purse as the vendor held the enticing loaves under her nose. Her stomach grumbled in protest.

  She considered her options. If she bought a whole loaf, she’d barely have any money left. “Would you sell me half for half price?”

  The woman considered. “I suppose I could sell the other half to a hungry waif.” She nodded and held out her hand for the coins.

  Keara smiled. Half a loaf would hold her for now. And she’d have a bit of money left for a bite to eat in York. She placed the coin in the woman’s hand, then the vendor deposited the money in her apron pocket, broke the loaf in two, and handed one half to Keara.

  “Bless you.” She clutched the half loaf against her chest.

  The train whistle shrilled. The old woman turned her head.

  “Best get moving, Miss. Your train’s about to leave.”

  “Oh!” Keara raced toward the second-class car.

  The conductor stood at the edge of the platform waving passengers on. “All aboard!”

  Keara sprinted to him.

  He gaped, looking her up and down. “Third class is that way.” He motioned toward the rear of the train.

  “No, sir. ’Tis a second class ticket I have.”

  He scowled but waved her onto the steps. “Get aboard. We’re about to pull out.”

  She stepped up and gasped as her bread slipped from her hand and onto the tracks below. Pulse racing, she glanced down. “I dropped me bread.”

  “Sorry, Miss, you can’t get it now. They have food on board.” Her eyes
stung as she realized she’d not be eating on this trip. She eyed the car where she’d be seated. The enclosed car had plush seats, and the women passengers wore stylish gowns and bonnets, while the men sported gentleman’s frock coats. Such fine, sophisticated men they seemed. She’d never seen the like.

  She hesitated at the door as she considered how she looked in her threadbare gown, tattered shawl, and straw hat.

  “Please step inside, Miss,” the conductor urged as he ascended the steps. The train whistle shrilled, spurring her on.

  The front seats were occupied, so she stepped down the aisle, flushing in shame at the looks she drew from the stylish passengers. A woman with two small children gathered them against her sides as if to protect them. An elderly woman sniffed and lifted a snow white handkerchief to her nose.

  A few men eyed her, then turned away. She swallowed and clutched her satchel with one hand while patting the hat on her head. She wouldn’t disgrace herself completely by allowing her hair to fly free from her bun.

  She spied an empty seat near the back of the car, but once she grew close, realized an older woman sat in the window seat. All the other seats appeared claimed.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Keara sidled to the seat. “Ma’am, can you be telling me if this seat’s taken?”

  The woman’s shrewd eyes slid over her, then forward over the filling car. “You’re traveling alone, dear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Keara glanced toward the front. “I don’t see any other seats available.”

  “Are you certain you’re in the right car?” The woman smirked.

  Keara bristled. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve a ticket to the second class car.”

  The woman drew herself back. “I see.” She sighed. “I suppose you can sit here.”

  Keara eased herself into the seat as the woman eyed her warily. Once she turned toward the window, Keara relaxed a bit but still hugged her satchel against her, wishing she hadn’t dropped her half loaf of bread.

  A whistle sounded, and the train slowly chugged from the station. Keara didn’t completely release her breath until the station lay behind them and the train sped along open fields.

  She glanced at the older woman who seemed occupied with a book in her lap. A few seats ahead across the aisle, Keara caught sight of a well-dressed man with wavy, dark hair speaking with the conductor.

  “Anything else I can get for you, Doctor?” the gray-haired conductor asked.

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  The conductor proceeded up the aisle past Keara’s seat. Once he’d gone by, she glanced back at the man he’d addressed as Doctor. She imagined having a man so refined as her husband. To be a physician’s wife…

  Keara sighed and sank back in her seat. Once she arrived in York, her first priority would be finding a meal, then a place to stay. She clutched her satchel, knowing she likely didn’t have enough cash to afford both.

  The swaying motion of the train lulled her to sleep. She dozed for a bit, then woke with a start. She’d been dreaming of the cramped quarters on the ship she’d sailed to America. Most everyone had been sick. She’d kept to herself as much as she could.

  “Pardon me.”

  Keara jerked her head up. The woman beside her poked her arm. “This is my stop.” She motioned toward the station.

  “Are we in York?”

  “Next stop is York.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Keara rose to allow the woman into the aisle.

  As the woman slipped out, Keara’s stomach growled loudly. She bit back her embarrassment. The woman nodded and stepped down the aisle toward the exit doors.

  Now, she could claim the window seat until they reached York. As the train lurched to a complete stop, Keara’s head spun. “Oh, my.” She stepped back into the seat, but another departing passenger jostled her, and a wave of dizziness sent her reeling. She slumped to the floor.

  ****

  Dr. Elliot James studied his notebook as passengers stepped off the train. He’d be relieved to disembark at York. His trip to the medical conference in Philadelphia had been a huge success. The new techniques would aid his small practice encompassing the town of Fairfield and the neighboring rural area.

  A crash and commotion a few seats behind him, sent his head swiveling.

  “I think she’s fainted,” a man said.

  Elliot glanced back at a young woman sprawled in the aisle. Her bonnet had slipped from her head, revealing red-gold hair. The conductor patted her cheeks in an effort to revive her.

  Elliot rose from his seat. “Allow me to take a look.”

  The conductor gave way as Elliot sank to the floor. The woman’s eyes were closed, but her chest rose steadily with each breath. He grasped her wrist checking for a pulse. A long strand of hair had come loose from her bun. He pushed the silky strand away from her pale cheek.

  “She’s not dead, is she?” The conductor’s shaggy brows drew down in concern.

  “No, she likely just fainted. Help me get her into the seat beside me. I’ll see if I can revive her.”

  Elliot and the conductor lifted her into the window seat. The physician turned and faced the remaining passengers. “Is anyone traveling with this woman?”

  Five men and two women shook their heads.

  “I think she boarded alone,” the conductor offered.

  “Fine then.” Elliot turned toward the woman, where she lay against the back of the seat, before he dug in his bag. Pulling out smelling salts, he lifted one of the vials under her nose and held the back of her head.

  She coughed. Her eyes flew open, then widened. “What…where am I?”

  Elliot nodded at the conductor who hovered over the seat. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’ll take care of her for now.”

  The conductor nodded, then strode ahead to assist new passengers to board.

  “You’ll be fine, Miss. I’m a physician. It seems you fainted in the aisle.”

  “Fainted?” she sputtered.

  “Yes.” He glanced at the station. “Did you wish to disembark here?”

  “’Tis to York I be needing to go.” She leaned forward clutching her stomach.

  Elliot studied her. “Are you ill?”

  A loud growl rose from her gut. Her lips quivered into the semblance of a smile. “Just a wee bit hungry, ’tis all. I’ll be fine.”

  Elliot frowned. “Tell me, when did you last eat?”

  “I—ah, I can’t be sure.”

  Hoping he didn’t appear forward, Elliot stroked her hand. “You’re so cold, Miss. Are you sure you’re not ill?”

  She shook her head. “No, sir. ’Tis fine I’ll be once I get to York.”

  “You live in York? Is someone meeting you at the station?”

  She bit her full lip. “I’ve relatives there. Someone will come for me.”

  “I see.”

  As new passengers stepped down the aisle, the young woman half rose. “I should be getting back to me seat.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind, Miss.” He held her arm pressing her back down. “I’ll see to your care until we arrive at York. Then your relatives can take you home.”

  “But I need me bag.” Her gaze drifted toward the seat she’d vacated.

  Elliot signaled the conductor. “Could you bring me the young lady’s bag, sir?”

  “Of course, Doctor.”

  He handed the bag to Elliot, who held it out to his charge.

  She grasped it and cradled it against her chest. Her eyelids fluttered as she glanced out the window. When she turned back, Elliot noted her clear hazel eyes. A tinge of color had returned to her face, but he suspected she needed food before the train arrived at York.

  “I’m a bit hungry myself,” he said. “Why don’t we go to the dining car for a snack?”

  “The dining car?” She shook her head. “Oh, no sir, I could never afford…” She broke off.

  “I’ll take care of it.” He held out his hand.

  “Ach, I couldn’t be accepting yer char
ity,” she protested.

  “It’s not charity. I’m alone and in want of a dining companion.”

  She shook her head again.

  “I don’t want to leave you here alone, and I am very hungry,” he insisted.

  Her mouth titled up into a weak smile. “I suppose I could use a bite.” She reached out and enfolded her hand in his.

  ****

  The doctor led Keara into the dining car. Small tables with bench seats were set in rows by the windows with an aisle between. He seated her on one side of a table and took the bench opposite.

  A waiter approached. “What might I get for you, sir?”

  The doctor glanced at Keara and winked. “The lady and I would like a bowl of soup and whatever cut of meat you’re serving today.”

  The waiter nodded. “The soup for today is potato and beans, and I’ll bring a plate of roasted beef.” He glanced toward Keara.

  She nodded not sure what she should say. Her gaze drifted over the other diners, and her stomach grumbled at the aromas of soup and cooked meats the passengers had set before them.

  The waiter returned with a tray and placed bowls of soup and spoons on the table. “I’ll return with your plate of meat and other delicacies in a moment.”

  Keara glanced at the doctor and wrinkled her nose. “Other delicacies? You shouldn’t be spending so much on me.”

  “You need food,” he emphasized. “I can’t have you fainting in the aisle again, now can I?”

  She sucked on her lower lip, suddenly ashamed in the presence of so refined a gentleman.

  He motioned toward her spoon. “Now, eat. Doctor’s orders.”

  She grinned and lifted the soup spoon. Taking care to delicately sip and not gulp her soup, Keara ate slowly and studied her companion. His gaze barely left her, causing a tightening in her stomach not caused by hunger. His sculpted lips tilted pleasantly into a smile as he gazed at her. His hands appeared strong, but fine, not work-roughened, like the men she’d known.

  “I suppose, since we’re dining together and sharing a seat on the ride, I should introduce myself. Doctor Elliot James.” He studied her as if expecting her name in return.

  She swallowed. “I’m Miss Keara Fagan, and I’m very grateful you came to me aid, Doctor.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Fagan.” He grinned, and her stomach fluttered with pleasure. “So, your relatives live in York, you say?” He lifted a spoonful of soup to his lips.