THE GENTLEWOMAN PHYSICIAN (GENTLEWOMAN #2) BY EMILY OPAL – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Emily Opal
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.1 MB
- Price: Free
With a quick hand, Elizabeth Crane pulled a three-cornered hat over
her brow and took a step onto the gangway. These first moments
under public scrutiny would prove the efficacy or uselessness of her
disguise. She must watch for a reaction, a hint that breeches did not cover
her feminine curves. But her eyes remained locked on the shoes she wore,
which did not fit despite the handkerchiefs stuffed into the toes. She
composed herself with a deep breath and lifted her chin. Once the ship set
sail, there could be no reversal, and she would be at leisure to stare at the
open sea and grieve the passing of her parents.
She entered the lower deck with its maze of pillars and a floor strewn
with ropes as thick as her body. Her steps slowed, but the flow of
passengers pushed her up the stairs and onto the main deck, into the full
light of the May morning.
Not a soul gave her a second glance. Sun blazed over her upturned face.
Perhaps this could work. Outfitted in breeches, she became all but invisible.
Of everything she’d accomplished over the past few months—watching
dirt cover the caskets wherein her parents lay, signing mounds of papers,
planning the departure, selling the estate—boarding a frigate bound for
America was the easiest. One step and then another, Elizabeth slipped
through the crowd as if a ghost.
A huge arm barreled into Elizabeth’s middle, knocking the wind out of
her. She tripped over her shoes and fell. The man turned around. She
extended a hand, expecting he would help her.
“Stay out of the way!” The man looked at her hand and grimaced before
turning on a heel and loping away.
Of course he didn’t help. She looked like a boy and behaved like a lady.
Maintaining the charade was an impossible task. She dragged herself out of
the way and leaned against a pole. Knees drawn to her chest, she tried to
catch a breath amid the flow of passengers who scraped and scarred their
way over the freshly lacquered boat. Sailors pounded and knocked about.
Throat tightening and heart thrumming to the dissonant commotion, she
stood and looked from the harbor to the sea ahead.
A firm grip around the pole steadied her shaking frame, and she
reconsidered her scheme. She was a responsible young lady, not a reckless
halfwit. The notion of executing this charade was ludicrous.
Elizabeth arranged her departure in the same numb way she attended
her parents’ double funeral. When no servant wished to emigrate to
America, the idea of tailoring Father’s clothes seemed an obvious, if absurd,
solution. Her fingers slid over the buttons of the breeches.
She should not be on the ship, bound for America of all outlandish
places. She belonged in the familiarity of the small village where she was
born. In the home where she grew up. Her mind flew through the rooms of
the house—Mother’s dressing room, filled with her scent. Father’s study
with its stacks of books. The still room, strewn with healing herbs. Mother’s
apron. She’d forgotten to pack it but knew it hung on the hook by the door
that led to the garden.
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