Page 50 of The Gentleman Physician

“Very well. But I must tell you that I’ll have need of your services in the morning.”

“What?” Nathaniel pulled himself from his study of the house across the way to stare incredulously at his friend. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Yes. As you are well acquainted with Lady Heatherton and will be important to her case, I must ask that you come with me when I meet with her. Now that her husband has died, the brother will rush the courts with his demands. We must devise a good defense for her. I realize it is not the best of times, given her new state of mourning, but we will go through the tradesman’s entrance and show great respect.”

Nathaniel glared at the barrister in silence, until his mind finally wrapped around the situation and took in Timothy’s strained expression. His friend’s eyes laughed even while he put in a huge effort to keep his face straight.

“You want me to talk to Miss Devon tomorrow.”

Timothy shrugged, his innocent expression failing to fool Nathaniel. “If the opportunity arises.”

“You are at times the best and worst of friends.”

Timothy came closer and slapped Nathaniel on the shoulder. “Cheer up. You can’t live like this again. I was there when she broke your heart. Give her this chance. Give yourself this chance. And if she’s not interested, you can finally move on with a clear conscience.”

Could he confess his feelings to her again? Did he have the courage to present his heart to her one last time, though she still had reason and every right to reject him?

He closed his eyes, remembering how she had agreed to his friendship in the conservatory, and how warm and right her hand had felt in his. He remembered how she’d reached for him as they stood in the entry hall, seeking comfort and reassurance when he could give none.

What if she felt the same?

“Very well. I will look for an opportunity to speak to Miss Devon.”

Could risk his heart for her again? Nathaniel had the feeling his happiness may depend upon it.

Chapter Nineteen

Julia’s morning left her emotions raw. As the family had expected the baron’s death, the boys already owned clothing appropriate for mourning. She entered the nursery to find Nurse Smyth patiently buttoning little black jackets over their gray breeches. They both wore skeleton suits the day before, the bottom halves of their clothing buttoned up high beneath their arms in bright blues and reds. But now they looked more like little gentlemen in short coats and breeches. A concession was made for their age only in their ruffled collars.

The solemnity of mourning, Virginia had told her weeks ago, would necessarily mature the children. She did not think it wrong to advance their wardrobe to what older boys would wear.

Their young faces above the white ruffles and black jackets made Julia’s heart ache for them. Did they understand that their dear Papa would not wake again?

“Come, boys. Your mother wishes to see you.” She reached out for their hands and each slipped theirs into hers with silent trust.

The whole house was silent, as if the very building itself mourned.

Virginia had risen earlier, asking for coffee and toast, as the sleeping tonic had left her with a headache. Her face had been ashen, her lips bloodless, but she did not cry. Not as she had the night before.

Julia’s long night in the baron’s chamber, door open and candles lit, had left her a great deal of time to think and knit. By the time the sun rose, she had reordered her life and decisions more than a dozen times, and not once to her satisfaction. She felt more muddled than ever, her exhaustion accented each and every emotion passing through her heart.

They entered the parlor where Virginia most often held court, and Julia watched as both boys offered their bows to their mother. Virginia nearly lost her composure and had to bite her bottom lip, meeting Julia’s eyes with a silent plea.

“Phillip, Edward, sit beside your mother on the sofa. I will go fetch some biscuits and milk.” She could only offer Virginia an encouraging smile, small though it was, and disappear to fetch the refreshment. She shut the door quietly behind her and rested her head against the frame.

Her life must change soon. She didn’t know how she would go forward. Lady Huntington would assist her in finding a position, she had no doubt, but what then? Did she know how to be a companion? What if she didn’t like her employer? She couldn’t leave. And if she became a governess, could she love a stranger’s children the way she had grown to love these? And ought she to love them when, without fail, they would grow up and leave her to find another position?

After telling herself to stop fretting, to be less selfish, Julia squared her shoulders and went down to the kitchens herself. She didn’t wish to send for a servant; she wanted to be around people, to feel less alone in the world.

The staff moved up and down the hallway leading to the kitchens, each bobbing courteously to her, all of them wearing black armbands as a sign of the household’s mourning.

“Mrs. Rainey,” Julia greeted the woman who was wiping her hands on a dish cloth. “Good morning. I was wondering if I might trouble you for some biscuits and milk?”

“For the lads? Of course, miss.” The cook nodded to a kitchen maid who jumped from her task of kneading bread and went into the pantry. Mrs. Rainey had always been a generous woman, keeping a good stock of treats for the children at hand. “How are they, miss?” she asked quietly, coming closer to Julia. “I know they’re hurtin’, but is there anything I might do to help ‘em?”

Julia clasped her hands before her and forced her emotions back. Any small show of sympathy was likely to undo her if she could not get hold of herself.

“I think you ought to pour your good thoughts into your cooking and baking, Mrs. Rainey. They will feel your care most in that way. And send up extra sweets for the boys, when you can.”