Page 7 of Choices of the Heart

“I assumed you would have called her your mother if she was.”

“She’s not my mother.”

“Aunt?”

Miss Kingston shook her head.

“Cousin?”

“No.”

Burke turned his attention back to his patient. “I am not likely to guess the answer, it seems.”

“Next time, try harder.” With that, she left.

Under his breath, Burke said, “That was not a favorable first impression.”

“For you or her?” Mrs. Archer asked, voice as quiet as ever.

He allowed a little smile. “For either of us.”

She offered a weak smile of her own. “She is a good person, kind to her very heart. But life has asked a great deal of her.”

Burke took Mrs. Archer’s hand once more, checking her pulse again. “I suspect, ma’am, life will ask a bit more ofyouthe next couple of days. But I have every confidence you will recover with rest and foods that will be gentle on you.”

“Was it something I ate, then?”

“I cannot say with complete confidence, but that would be my guess.”

She closed her eyes and released a slow, heavy breath. “I knew when we left Baltimore that we would endure some privation. I suspect I underestimated how meager everything would be out here.”

Meager was a good word, really. And she would find Hope Springs offered less by way of comforts than even the mediocre ones she’d found upon alighting from her long train ride. Based on her clothing and jewelry and fine way of talking, this very room likely felt little better than a prison or a hovel.

“When Miss Kingston returns, she can help you dress in your night clothes. I realize it is still the middle of the afternoon, but you will be more comfortable dressed down, and rest is of utmost importance right now.”

“Will there be a place for Sophie to stay while I am convalescing?” Mrs. Archer asked.

“Of course. She can either occupy the room next to this one—it has only a bed, but it’s conveniently located—or she can claim a room at the inn. The O’Connors run a well-maintained and respectable establishment; she would be comfortable there.”

Mrs. Archer accepted that with a silent nod. She didn’t ask any further questions or make any comments as he continued checking her for anything he might have missed. In the end, he felt confident she was, indeed, suffering from the ill-effects of something undercooked or a bit spoiled, coupled with the strain of travel. She would feel fine as feathers in a day or two.

Miss Kingston returned with a bucket of water, as requested. Burke used it to fill the chipped pitcher he kept in the room. He needed to obtain a couple more so each room would have one. There were so many things left to do. And he had no idea how much time remained to do them.

After a moment, with instructions to give Mrs. Archer water to drink, he slipped out and left the two women to see to the matter of Mrs. Archer’s comfort and clothing.

He reached his sitting room and sat in his chair a moment. The ailment was a minor one, easily seen to. Mrs. Archer would recover; he’d no doubt about that.

I underestimated how meager it would all be.

She hadn’t meant the observation unkindly, but it had hit its mark. He was grateful to the people of Hope Springs for allowing him to build a practice in their town. But itwasall very meager. Seeing it through the eyes of someone who regularly experienced the kind of establishment he’d once dreamed of claiming, drove that home a bit, dredging up some of the doubts he never seemed able to fully shake.

The door to his home opened and, in the next instant, Joseph Archer, trailed closely by Patrick, stepped into the sitting room.

“I’m told there’s someone here who has come to visit me.” He looked completely confused. This relative of his, then, hadn’t made her arrival known ahead of time.

“Yes,” Burke said. “A Mrs. Millicent Archer.”

Joseph’s mouth dropped open. Shock pulled at all his features.

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