Lord What’s-his-face has finally sat down. And Lord Havenfort now stands tall in front of the bottom row, staring out at the assembly, hands twisting at his sides.
“The right to self-accreditation may have merit when it comes to many trades. Farmers, carpenters, bakers, housekeepers—all these professions may be taught outside of formal schooling without fatal consequences.
“But I ask you, gentlemen, do you want the man overseeing the birth of your very heirs to have been taught by his father, who was taught by his father, and not a one of them ever having received formal training? Who’s to say he won’t butcher your wife, leave your child dead, and walk away telling you that’s the best medicine can do?”
Bodies shift around the room. James finds himself with his hands on his knees, listening, as Lord Mason leans so far forward, he’s nearly into the pew below them.
“Proponents of this act do not wish to limit the freedoms of Englishmen,” Lord Havenfort says. Lord What’s-his-name sighs gustily. “Instead, we want to ensure that all people of our great nation have the right to safe medical procedures. The freedom to know that when they are in a doctor’s care, they are safe.
“My first wife died in childbed.” This falls like a mallet over the assembly. “I was assured after the birth of my daughter that my wife was well. I held my daughter in the nursery, content, until I heard the screaming.”
James swallows hard, Lord Havenfort’s face blurring in and out of focus. He struggles to remind himself that his aunt is just fine. This was over twenty-two years ago, when Lady Gwen was born.
“I was later told, by a coroner, that something ruptured on the wall of my late wife’s womb, bleeding her dry in a matter of minutes. I didn’t even make it to the room for her final breath.
“And her noble physician? Told me there was nothing he could have done. That my wife’s lost life was simply a matter of course.
“My daughter grew up without a mother, because the physician I hired to care for my wife didn’t know enough to save her. The physician who came heavily recommended. The best I could find.”
Lord Havenfort looks around the room, meeting as many eyes as possible as the men sit silent and aghast.
“Twenty-two years later, I have just been blessed with a son, and my beloved wife is truly fine, stable, and happy.”
Lord Mason suddenly sits up straight, clapping vigorously. The room slowly joins in. James claps his hands, his fingers numb from where he was gripping the bench.
Lord Havenfort below them offers a small smile. “Their survival is in no small part thanks to a qualified physician, Dr. Brayton, who was accredited at the University of Edinburgh Medical College. I was able to properly vet Dr. Brayton using the meticulous research from our committee.
“But should we fail to pass this act, what becomes of all those without the wealth to hire qualified physicians? Do we not, as Englishmen, as Christians, have a duty to support the poor, to provide them with opportunity? Do we not have a duty to provide access to proper healthcare so that our children survive? So that countless thousands do not die of curable diseases, decimating our workforces?”
Murmurs of assent begin to fill the hall, the lords shifting from awed regard to impassioned agreement. James finds himself exclaiming along with them.
“Were there another way to ensure such a registry, without the guiding hand of Parliament, perhaps I would not feel compelled to speak to you thus. But as it has fallen on our shouldersto protect our citizens, our children, our wives—I call on you to make the right decision. Join us in voting to enact this registry along with the Commons, so that all Englishmen may have proper care, and be safe in the knowledge that their physicians will keep them well.
“I must return to my healthy son and wife now. Thank you.”
The room jumps to its feet. The lords clap vigorously. Even those across the aisle, who hate Lord Havenfort with every fiber of their being, can’t quite refuse him this accolade.
“I’ve never heard such a speech in my life,” James says, leaning over to Lord Mason, who’s clapping so hard his hands are turning red.
Lord Mason only nods, his jaw clenched tight, eyes a little shiny. James realizes then that Lord Mason’s wife has not yet made it safely through the trial of childbirth. He knows Lord Havenfort will ensure she has only the best physicians possible, but it cannot be easy for Lord Mason to know what is coming for her, and to be so far away.
James has no want of a wife, but he certainly wants Lord Mason’s to be well, and for their child to survive. James follows Lord Mason from their pew, hoping he’ll be able to intercept Lord Havenfort briefly to congratulate him on the birth. He really should pay a visit to his aunt as well and give her his felicitations.
Perhaps if he extends that long overdue apology to his aunt and cousin, someday he could become someone they think to call when big things are happening.
As he heads down the stairs at the end of his aisle, he spots Raverson across the room. Their eyes lock and James’ stomach clenches. The extended family has weathered one crisis, but there’s still another brewing. Raverson sneers at James and James trips, clutching Lord Mason’s arm to stay upright.
“Steady on,” Lord Mason says, helping James down the last few stairs into the aisle.
James gives him a grimace of a smile, and looks back to where Raverson was. But Raverson is gone. James cranes his neck, but he’s fled the chamber, leaving James with no choice but to shuffle out behind Lord Mason. He knows they’ve staved Raverson off, for now, but can’t quite banish the unsettled, panicked feeling in his chest.
He wishes Mason were here to reassure him, or distract him, or— James shakes himself. This is neither the time nor the place to think about that clandestine moment.
But even ignoring... thoughts of Ascot, or Raverson, James is surprised to find he just wants to talk to Mason. He wants to tell him about watching Cunningham, Wristead, and Rupping try to keep their eyes open and stay standing throughout Prince’s wedding. He wants to give Mason the play-by-play.Friends, they said. He’s rarely wanted to speak to a friend so badly, now that he thinks on it.
He and Lord Mason make their way through the antechamber, Lord Mason holding on to the cuff of James’ sleeve. It feels shockingly safe. Like maybe he and Lord Mason might be something like friends too.
And if he found a way to make himself a greater part of the larger family, he could be friends with his cousin and her stepsister as well. No longer just trying to make a good impression to prove himself worthy, he’s rather surprised to find he genuinely wants to be part of all of this. Of the research that might protect the two girls, should they ever decide to settle down rather than making mischief through another few seasons. Of the dinners and card games Lord Mason and even Mason have alluded to.
