Hester Dymock

By Victoria Chatham

Hester Dymock dreams of one man, Lord Gabriel Ravenshall. She knows a liaison between them is impossible without her having title or fortune. Involved in an accident close to her home, he falls and breaks his leg. Abandoning all discretion, she rushes to his aid.

Gabriel has no choice but to submit to Hester’s care and that of her mother, an apothecary and her brother, a doctor. Embittered by the memory of his parent’s loveless marriage, he broods over his growing regard for Hester, unaware of her deep attraction to him. Once his leg has mended enough for him to return to his home, he is dismayed to discover that Hester is to continue tending him.

Her stubborn, uncooperative patient keeps Hester on her toes. With her help, will Gabriel learn to walk again? And will he allow himself to love her, or will her hopes for the future remain a dream?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Mar 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9780228617037

Victoria Chatham

Being born in Bristol, England, Victoria Chatham grew up in an area rife with the elegance of Regency architecture. This, along with the novels of Georgette Heyer, engendered in her an abiding interest in the period with its style and manners and is one where she feels most at home.Apart from her writing, Victoria is an avid reader of anything that catches her interest, but especially Regency romance. She also teaches introductory creative writing. Her love of horses gets her away from her computer to volunteer at Spruce Meadows, a world class equestrian centre near Calgary, Alberta, where she currently lives.

Book preview

Hester Dymock

Those Regency Belles Book 1

Victoria Chatham

Digital ISBNs

EPub 978-0-2286-1703-7

Kindle 978-0-2286-1704-4

PDF 978-0-2286-1705-1

Print ISBNs

BWL Print 978-0-2286-1706-8

LSI Print 978-0-2286-1707-5

B&N Print 978-0-2286-1708-2

Amazon Print 978-0-2286-1709-9

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

Dedication

To all my readers, who keep me writing, and my critique partners and beta readers who make me a better writer.

Chapter One

April 1818

Hester Dymock stepped outside her family’s apothecary shop and took a deep breath of fresh April air. It still carried the dampness of overnight rain, which made her wrinkle her nostrils as she inhaled.

Washed clean of dust and debris, the cobblestones on Fulhampton’s High Street shimmered with moisture. Today being market day, it would soon be strewn once again with bits of hay and straw, manure, and goodness knows what else. Horse-drawn carts and handbarrows pushed by various vendors already rumbled towards the marketplace. People walked along the street and the pavement, all headed in the same direction.

Ahead of her, two men stood head and shoulders above the crowd.

Hester would recognize the taller of the two gentlemen anywhere. A sigh formed on her lips.

There was no mistaking Lord Gabriel Ravenshall’s muscular build.

Or the way his dark blue jacket moulded itself to his broad shoulders.

When he doffed his tall beaver hat to a woman who stopped and spoke to him, he revealed black hair gleaming like glossy raven’s feathers.

What if she had been beside him? Would he have raised his hat to her? And what might she say to make him laugh as this woman did? Hester wished his courtesy and good humour were for her. A prickly little knot of envy formed in her stomach as she watched them.

Her head might reach the top of his chest if she stood on tiptoe, and she could easily imagine herself secure in his arms. She caught herself with a sharp intake of breath and steeled herself to ignore her shockingly inappropriate thoughts. She shook her head at her foolishness. Girlish dreams were all very well, but at four-and-twenty, she was no longer a girl.

The other gentleman was not as tall but slim and bare headed. Something in the conversation made him laugh out loud, a joyful, carefree sound that made people turn his way to see what amused him. His blonde hair caught the sunlight as he crossed the street.

Intent on watching the unfolding scene before her, Hester nearly walked past the butcher’s shop but checked herself in time and quickly stepped inside. Mr. Barnfield, wielding a wicked-looking meat cleaver, looked up from the ham hock on his cutting block and smiled a greeting.

Morning, Miss Dymock. And what can I get for you today?

Three good chump chops, if you please, and Mama said—

More meat than fat, Mr. Barnfield finished for her. I know your mama too well to offer you anything else. Otherwise, I’d have her in here chewing my ear off and that I don’t want. Can I get you some pork sausages as well? Fresh made this morning.

Thank you, but no.

The sound of a crash and shouting in the street drew their attention. Hester dropped her basket and rushed outside with Mr. Barnfield close behind her.

Cattle in the holding pens opposite his shop began to bellow. Sheep in the adjacent pen bleated and pressed their fleecy bodies together in a panic.

What is it? Hester asked.

Mr. Barnfield’s height gave him the advantage of seeing what was happening. Looks like a phaeton has knocked into old Grimes’ vegetable stall at the corner of the market.

As he spoke, Hester heard another crash. She stood on her tiptoes to make herself as tall as possible. Now she could clearly see the scene at the end of the street.

The phaeton’s rear right wheel had caught on the edge of the stall. The young woman handling the ribbons tried to make her horse back up. Hester heard its whinny of distress, saw its bright chestnut neck as it plunged frantically between the shafts. The stall collapsed, sending cabbages, carrots, potatoes, and more vegetables cascading onto the street. Scruffy urchins appeared as if from nowhere, instantly gathering what they could of the unexpected bounty.

The farmer shouted and cursed, still shaking his fist at the driver. The horse charged forwards, the now white-faced young woman sawing desperately at its mouth to halt it. Marketgoers cleared the street, leaping out of the path of the runaway vehicle.

Stay where you are! Lord Ravenshall shouted the warning as his friend stepped to the curb.

And then Hester noticed the child.

A small girl held a potato in one hand and scrubbed tears away from her eyes with the other. She seemed oblivious to the danger bearing down on her. There was no way she could escape the horse’s flailing hooves.

Hester’s heart fell like a lead weight as she covered her mouth. She could not breathe, unable to bear what must be about to happen.

A speeding blue form flashed before her eyes.

Her whimper of alarm erupted into a terrified cry as Lord Ravenshall dashed into the street.

He bent low and caught up the girl in his arms. Hester thought him safe but, in one shattering moment, saw the toe of his boot catch on the side of a still-damp cobblestone. He pitched forward.

Ash! Catch her, he yelled, throwing the child at his friend as he fell.

Hester barely followed the trajectory of the grubby bundle. The blond-haired man caught it in his outstretched arms. He staggered back under the weight and crashed into the sheep pen, further agitating the frantic animals.

And then the vehicle was upon Lord Ravenshall.

The horse leapt over him, the phaeton lurching behind it, almost pitching the driver from the box. Open-mouthed, Hester watched it charge on down the street, scattering everything in its path. Then the damaged wheel parted from the axle, bringing everything to a halt. One man ran up to help the sobbing woman out of the wreckage while two others cut the harness away from the quivering horse and led it away.

Hester tore her gaze from the disaster and sped to Lord Ravenshall’s inert body, sinking onto her knees beside him. His eyes were closed, his face pale. Blood seeped from a wound on his head, staining the cobblestones, but it only took one glance for her to know his legs were in far worse shape.

The young man whom Lord Ravenshall had called Ash rushed to her side. White-faced, he stared down at his friend, and then his knees buckled like a broken marionette.

What can I do? he whispered.

The helplessness in his tone made Hester glance up at him. We need to get him to my brother’s office immediately.

Why should we take him to your brother? Ash’s dark frown indicated his doubt.

Jonathan is a doctor. Hoping no one would notice how badly she shook, Hester used her handkerchief to dab blood from Lord Ravenshall’s face. Who could have imagined that an accident would bring them so close? A shadow fell across her, and she looked up into the anxious face of a burly dark-skinned man.

He crouched down beside her. What has happened to his lordship?

Before Hester could answer, Ash spoke up. Ah, Robert. Good that you are here. Can you lift him?

No. Hester held up her hand to stop him. That would be the worst thing possible if his leg is as badly damaged as I suspect. She looked around, then indicated one of the sheep pens. That wattle hurdle will do. We must roll him onto it.

Are you sure, miss? Robert’s deep, baritone voice rumbled in his chest.

Yes, Hester said. Ash, tell the shepherd whatever you must to get him to give up that hurdle. He must find another way to contain his sheep.

Ash quickly made his way towards the shepherd. Hester watched as a lively exchange of words ensued. Money changed hands, and when Ash returned with the make-shift stretcher, she instructed him to lay it on the ground beside Lord Ravenshall.

I am going to turn his body towards me, she explained. As soon as you can, push the hurdle firmly beneath him. Are you ready?

Hester caught the fallen man’s shoulder and hip and rolled him towards her. Instructing Ash to wedge the hurdle firmly against his lordship’s back, she then carefully settled him onto it. He groaned in pain, making her wince, but he did not regain consciousness.

She took his hands and folded them across his chest. He almost looked peaceful, as he might in death, but she shook that image away. Her only intention now was to prevent his hands from dragging on the ground, adding grazed knuckles to his list of injuries. When she was sure he was secure, she looked around for more help.

Hovering uncertainly on the pavement with his delivery boy beside him, Mr. Barnfield watched her, all the while casting anxious glances towards his shop entrance.

I’d help, he offered, but I don’t want any of those little beggars running off with my goods like they did old Grimes’.

Don’t worry, Mr. Barnfield, I understand, but could you send your boy along to Mama to have all the doors opened for us?

Mr. Barnfield agreed to that. With a nod of his head, he sent the boy off. Hester turned to the two men with her. Robert, please lift at his lordship’s head, and you, Ash, take his feet. The doctor’s surgery is not far away. When I say lift, please do so as steadily as you can.

Both men readied themselves and, as soon as Hester gave the word, hoisted their charge smoothly.

This way, gentlemen, Hester said. It is but a few doors along the street beneath the sign of the pestle and mortar.

She hurried ahead of them and found the doors already opened as she had asked. Her mother looked on, concern written all over her face.

Panting from her exertions, Hester rushed past the counter and into the surgery behind the shop.

Jonathan, thank goodness you are here. She gulped as she looked at the remains of her brother’s breakfast and several books cluttering the table. We must clear this mess now.

Catch your breath and tell me what has happened. Her brother guided her to a chair and made her sit.

It is Lord Ravenshall. I believe he has a broken leg. Hester steadied her breathing and began to rise as Ash and Robert maneuvered their burden through the doorway.

Stay where you are, Hester. Jonathan gently pushed her back into her seat. Calm yourself, for I am certain to need your help. He quickly cleared the table as he glanced over the unconscious man. This way, gentlemen, lift everything onto the table. He watched as they followed his instructions. Carefully now. Yes, that’s right. Put him down gently, and please stand back.

The two men did as he instructed with Robert sturdy and calm, Ash pale and visibly trembling.

You’d better sit down. Hester kindly vacated her chair for him.

Tell me what happened. Jonathan bent to examine his patient.

Hester quickly described the summary of events for her brother while he continued his examination.

The head wound is of little consequence, I think, he finally announced. He may have a slight concussion, but his right leg is a worry. Hester, remove his shoe. You may have to cut off his stocking as well.

Hester slipped off the sturdy black leather shoe with its bold silver buckle and handed it to Ash. She hesitated before loosening the knee band of his lordship’s breeches but resolutely caught the top of the stocking and began to roll it down.

Lord Ravenshall shifted his head and moaned. Robert immediately stepped forward and placed his hands on his lordship’s shoulders, holding him steady.

Well done. Jonathan shot him a glance. You have experienced something like this before?

A few times. Robert’s dark face was devoid of expression, but his tone implied much more.

Are you in Lord Ravenshall’s employ?

Groom and second coachman, Robert replied.

Hester took all this in as she continued to roll the stocking over his lordship’s finely muscled calf, then reached for the scissors her brother held out to her.

It will go much more quickly if you use these. I’m sure Ravenshall will not begrudge the cost of a pair of stockings if necessary.

Starting at the toe, Hester snipped at the finely woven woollen fabric and folded it back from the leg it covered. She gasped when she saw the full extent of the damage. The shin was already swollen and flushed a torturous shade of red. Jonathan felt along the length of the leg, nodding to himself as he manipulated the limb.

Did you hear that grating sound, Hester? A bad but clean break, I think. At least it’s not crushed, which I would have expected in the circumstances. He palpated the leg, which brought a groan from the unconscious man. Hm, I suspect the fibula broke as well. At least neither bone has ruptured the skin. Dealing with an open wound would be far worse. Let’s take a look at his right leg.

Hester repeated the process of cutting the stocking away, shocked that her fingers tingled every time they touched Lord Gabriel Ravenshall’s bare skin. How she wished she could smooth away his pain.

After another inspection, Jonathan reported that the right leg was badly bruised but not broken.

Thank God for that, Ash muttered.

Not necessarily, Jonathan warned him. Bruising will pool blood in the soft tissues and can be as painful as a break, but I will apply leeches to prevent the worst of it.

Ash turned even paler and quickly left the room.

By the looks of it, it’s left to us to set this bone, Jonathan mused.

Gabriel Ravenshall groaned again, and his eyes fluttered open.

What the devil is going on? he rasped. Why are you holding me down, Robert? And why are my legs so damned cold?

He tried to sit up but fell back with a cry.

Don’t move, sir. Robert continued to grip his lordship’s shoulders. You have a broken leg, and the doctor is about to set it.

Wonderful. Gabriel hissed. I’ll be bound that will hurt.

More than I like to say, Jonathan agreed readily. But I have some excellent brandy to help dull your senses beforehand, and a good strip of leather for you to bite down on.

Where’s Ash? Gabriel asked.

Had to excuse himself. Jonathan grinned. I’m not sure that he quite has the stomach for what we are about to do. Drink this.

Gabriel took the proffered brandy and swallowed it in one gulp. I think I need another of those.

Happy to oblige. Jonathan poured a second glass and watched Ravenshall toss it back. We’ll leave you to settle for a few minutes and see how you’re feeling. I’d like you quite drunk before we begin, but not so much that you are likely to cast up your accounts.

Jonathan busied himself preparing splints and bandages, placing everything within easy reach. Twenty minutes later, he administered another glass of brandy, to which he added a few drops of laudanum. When Gabriel’s eyes began to close, Jonathan turned to Hester and Robert.

As soon as the laudanum takes its full effect, we will get to work. Robert, please stand at his lordship’s head. Put your arms under his and clasp your hands firmly in front of his chest. You will have to hold him very still.

I can do that, Robert said.

Can you please find Sir Ashleigh? Jonathan asked him. If at all possible, I want him here to be ready to place this strap between his lordship’s teeth. If he can’t deal with that, then Mama will have to close the shop for a short while.

Robert left the room, and Hester’s eyes widened in dismay as she looked at her brother.

Sir Ashleigh? she questioned. Oh, dear. And I have been calling him Ash as if he were known to me. What will he think of me?

As things are right now, I don’t think anyone will care, Jonathan told her.

Robert returned with Sir Ashleigh, who looked only marginally recovered and not at all happy to be there.

Jonathan ordered everyone to their places and moved around the table to where it was easy for him to hold Lord Ravenshall’s thigh.

I say, Sir Ashleigh began, his voice wavering. Beg pardon, but isn’t that the wrong place for you to try and set the bone?

Between us, we have to keep him as still as possible, Jonathan explained. Robert will hold his torso, and I will hold his leg.

Then, who is going to set it? Sir Ashleigh asked.

That would be me. Hester stepped to the end of the table. Do not worry, Sir Ashleigh, I know what I am doing. Have his lordship bite down on that strap now. Are we ready?

At a nod from Jonathan, she took Gabriel’s naked foot in her hand, alarmed at how cold it was. She grasped his toes in one hand, the heel of his foot in the other. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the anxious faces around her.

Now, she instructed and pulled.

The howl of agony that escaped the prison of Lord Gabriel Ravenshall’s clenched teeth rang in her ears. She glanced up and saw that he had passed out, his head slumped against Robert’s arm.

Robert and Jonathan held tight.

Sir Ashleigh crumpled into the corner.

Chapter Two

Robert, Hester, hold firm and fast, Jonathan ordered as he reached for a roll of bandage. Hester, lift now and hold steady while I wrap his leg.

They both followed his instructions, watching Jonathan’s flying fingers as he passed the bandage under and over at almost dizzying speed. Even though he was unconscious, Gabriel continued to gasp and moan with pain. Hester gritted her teeth. She still held fast on his heel and toes, but each time he cried out, her flesh crawled.

Can you still hold the leg firm? Jonathan reached for the wooden slats to splint the leg and another roll of bandage.

She nodded and watched him place the splints on either side of the injured leg and begin bandaging again.

Darn Ash, he muttered. I could do with another pair of hands.

He used his shoulder to wipe beads of sweat off his face and then shouted for Mrs. Dymock. She came bustling in, assessing the situation in one glance.

Hold these in place, if you please, Mama, Jonathan grunted.

Without uttering a word, Mrs. Dymock took the splints and watched Jonathan wrap them firmly into place. When he finished, she hurried into the small parlour where she made up a trundle bed.

Robert and Jonathan moved Gabriel from the surgery onto the bed while he was still unconscious.

When had she begun to think of him as Gabriel? Hester reminded herself that he was Lord Gabriel Ravenshall, and she should think of him as such. She stopped wool-gathering and helped Jonathan prepare a frame for the injured leg, first laying a large piece of leather along the slats and covering that with a folded towel.

What is that for? Robert asked as they worked.

It’s a cradle to keep the leg immobile, Jonathan explained as he and Hester placed the injured leg in it. Taking a strip of linen, he passed it from side to side along the top of the frame, efficiently securing the limb in place.

Will he have to be kept in it for long?

That remains to be seen. Jonathan checked the slip knots in the bandages to make sure they were secure. I need to keep him quiet and still, and that will mean using more laudanum than I normally would.

When will we be able to take him home?

Jonathan looked up into Robert’s anxious face. "Not for two to three weeks, I think. Besides, it’s over three miles to Ravenshall Court over a