Page 6 of The Gentleman Physician

“I would be delighted to meet them.” Julia gave her cousin one last embrace. “I’m here to help, Virginia, in any way I can. Please remember that.”

Virginia nodded and stood to show Julia to her room.

After she tidied herself from the journey, Julia spent the rest of the afternoon acquainting herself with her little cousins, Phillip and Edward, allowing them to give her a grand tour of the house and the back garden. The little boys had an energy she could only try to match, but they made her laugh with their serious attempts to impress her.

Phillip, six years old and proud of the authority which came with that age, informed her most formally that there were no frogs to be found in the garden at this time of year. “Apart from there being few frogs in the city,” he said, chest puffed out, “it is winter. They are all asleep.”

Edward, only four, nodded seriously to every word his brother said. He tended to put his thumb into his mouth only to hastily pull it out again.

“Edward, is your thumb bothering you?” she asked, trying not to betray her amusement.

“He is trying to quit using it,” Phillip informed her before Edward even had a chance to answer. “Mother and Nurse Smyth both say he is too big for that now.”

“Oh, I see.” Julia pressed her lips together to keep from smiling, taking the little boy’s hand. “That is a very important step for a fellow to take, and I will make you a promise. If you will do your best for three days, I will get you a sweet for a reward.”

His eyes lit up. “I like biscuits.”

She laughed and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “As do I. Very well, if you can remember to keep your thumb out of your mouth for three whole days, we may all have biscuits.” This meant she would have to make friends with the household’s cook very soon, but Julia would manage that task easily enough.

And she would do all she could to help every member of this family, even little Edward, during her stay with them. She knew what it was like to watch a beloved parent fall ill and then drift away, having lost her mother while yet a young woman. She would offer any comfort she could, creating as much happiness as possible, because even a single moment of brightness made the sorrows of the dark more bearable.

Chapter Three

Nathaniel arrived at the baron’s home at the usual time and stood on the front steps, composing himself for the visit. He had just come from another patient, a lady who was trying to conceive an heir for her husband. The woman had been beside herself with worry, wringing her hands, spouting off a list of home remedies she had tried to no avail, and it fell on him to determine if her dream of motherhood would be realized or not. The whole meeting left him feeling exhausted and discouraged.

But he did his best to cast off his concerns and prepare himself for Lord and Lady Heatherton. He took a deep breath, tried to smile, and knocked on the door. Thurston answered and showed him in, as proper as ever, and a maid waited to take him up to the sickroom.

Lady Heatherton was already there, reading to her husband with the warm afternoon sunlight drifting in through the window. The heavy velvet curtains were tied back, allowing natural light to fill the shadows normally present in the darkly furnished room. It cheered the space greatly, and Nathaniel decided he would recommend the curtains remain open as often as possible.

“What an excellent way to pass an afternoon,” Nathaniel said as soon as she stood to greet him.

“My Virginia has a very soothing voice.” Lord Heatherton pushed himself up against his pillows, his dark hair falling limply across his forehead. “It calms me to hear her read.”

“And this is the first time in several days I’ve had opportunity to do so.” Lady Heatherton’s eyes softened when she studied her husband. “My cousin has arrived and she has looked after the household for me since yesterday.”

Nathaniel nodded and went to the basin, dipping his hands into the silver-rimmed bowl before taking up the soap from the matching tray on the wash stand. “I am pleased to hear you have extra help. I believe we are more susceptible to illness when our bodies are not rested. Your cousin’s assistance may do you more good than you realize.”

“Oh, I should go and fetch her, to make introductions. After all, she’s offered to help Lord Heatherton, and she ought to receive her instructions directly from you, Doctor Hastings.” Lady Heatherton came to the basin and washed her hands too.

Nathaniel went to the baron’s side and the two of them watched Lady Heatherton hurry out of the room, a certain quickness in her step. “I confess, Lord Heatherton, I began to think I ought to prescribe a sleeping tonic for your wife. I’m pleased she no longer appears to need one.”

The baron nodded, but began coughing, necessitating that Nathaniel help him first to a handkerchief and then a glass of water. “Thank you,” the nobleman rasped. “And thank you for worrying about Virginia. If you feel there are any measures she should take for her health, please inform us. I do not want her to grow ill in her care of me.”

“Of course, my lord.” Nathaniel began his usual methodical observations and questions, checking his lordship’s temperature, the sound of his lungs, and his pulse. As he went through the symptoms, his heart fell. The disease had rapidly progressed. In cases similar to this, patients could linger for a few months, but most were gone in weeks.

Nathaniel bit back a curse when he walked away to wash his hands. The foolishness of men, thinking themselves immortal, ignoring signs and symptoms of this disease, meant doctors did not get to treat patients until they were too far gone.

“You appear cross with me today, Doctor Hastings,” the baron said, his tone full of false bravado. “I am not intentionally making myself ill.”

Trying to remain calm, Nathaniel dried his hands and turned to face the baron. “I only wish, every time I come here, that you would have sought help sooner instead of putting off a doctor. You must have been ill a great deal over the past several years for the disease to have progressed to this point.”

The baron looked away, his hands above the blankets clenched into fists. “I kept too busy to be ill. That is what I told Virginia. If I coughed, I would take a tonic. If a fever sprung up, I would go to bed long enough to get it down again. I watched my father die from a cancerous tumor, my mother from a wasting fever. I did not want to succumb as they did. They both died after months in their beds, mourning themselves before their lives were taken.”

“You denied you were sick, and that has only made you worse off,” Nathaniel argued, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. “An earlier intervention may have spared your wife and sons the grief of losing you. There is a new treatment I have learned of, involving temporary inflation of the lung—”

“You cannot save everyone, Doctor.” The baron dropped his head to rest against the back of the headboard. “It is too late to guess what would have happened if I admitted my plight sooner.”

Arguing with a dying man was pointless and irrational. Nathaniel knew he ought to apologize for his words, but before he could there was a light rap on the door.