The Heart's Appeal

by Jennifer Delamere

  Michael was glad to forgo visiting another church today. Being familiar with the services here, he did not have to worry about where to sit or who to talk to. His mind was free to think of many things, even as he listened to Reverend Compton’s sermon.

  “If we are indeed risen with Christ, this Eastertide is a solemn call to us to ‘seek those things which are above.’ . . .”

  Easter was perhaps the holiest day of the year in the church calendar, and Michael was here, as he always had been before, out of obligation. It was expected. It cemented the appearance of propriety. Although these reasons were no less true on any other Sunday, today Michael had an additional and far weightier motivation. He could not stop turning over in his mind the way Julia spoke so freely of God—as though she were on intimate terms with Him. Not in a pompous way, as though she had somehow earned or deserved it. She saw God as a father who was taking care of her and guiding her path.

  If that was so, did that mean God had specifically led her into Michael’s railway carriage on the day of the accident? Why should that matter to Julia’s life—even though it had mattered so critically to his own? And why should Michael have been so favored? An omniscient God would certainly know that any thoughts Michael had sent His way were scarce and not generally favorable. Not since his mother had died. That day had been heart-wrenching enough for a small child, but its sorrows had been multiplied by the troubles that had come after.

  Yet here Michael sat, ostensibly worshiping the Creator but really casting about for any reasonable explanation for all that had happened over the past few months. He resented the way Julia’s words had begun shifting his thoughts on the matter. It was more comfortable to think of her presence on that train as a lucky coincidence. He was not going to become a religious zealot who looked for signs everywhere. To ascribe a larger meaning to it would surely place Michael under a burden that he must repay. He had too many such burdens already.

  Reverend Compton looked over the congregation with a smile as he concluded his sermon. “Eastertide is the time of new life. Let us then seek to lead the risen life of striving after higher and better things. Let us go on unto perfection looking unto Jesus, our risen Lord, setting our affections on things above, so that where our treasure is, there may our hearts be also.”

  Michael looked around him as the congregation rose to their feet. He thought he could discern between expressions of self-satisfaction and those of true joy. He wondered what others might be reading on his face. He felt more perplexed than joyful. Where were his affections, his treasure, his heart? He knew the answer, but he was not at all sure he liked it.

  CHAPTER

  14

  THE THEATRE WAS FILLED TO CAPACITY. Patience was only a week into its run, but it was clear this was going to be as popular as Gilbert and Sullivan’s previous shows had been. It poked fun at the vanity and pretentiousness of “aesthetics,” people who indulged in high art for art’s sake and thought art should eschew any moral or social message. The curtain had just come down on act one, and the theatre was buzzing as people rose from their seats for the interval.

  Michael, Corinna, and David had been invited to join Viscount Delaford and his sister in their private box for this performance.

  “Are you enjoying it?” Michael asked Laura. Although the opera’s focus was on poets and the arts, he knew plenty of self-important people in other fields who were just as insufferable as the character Reginald Bunthorne.

  Laura turned from scanning the people in the boxes on the other side of the theatre. She’d spent as much time watching the spectators as the show itself. “It’s a delightful satire of the aesthetics. I think those people rather silly myself.”

  “I can’t say I understand much about the aesthetic movement,” David put in. “I did enjoy seeing those Dragoon Guards, though.”

  “That’s because the Dragoons don’t understand the aesthetics either,” Corinna pointed out with a barely concealed eye roll.

  “Do you really think the aesthetics are silly, Laura?” Viscount Delaford asked. “I should think you’d find the loose, flowing fashions of the ladies appealing, as being more comfortable than bustles and corsets.”

  Laura waved her fan and pretended to look shocked. “You really shouldn’t mention such things in mixed company, dear brother.” But she sent a glance at Michael that he deemed more than a little coquettish.

  “How about we find some refreshment?” he suggested.

  Now that the Season was fully under way, so were Laura’s flirtations. Michael was not the only man so honored, but he was unmistakably high on her list, and he needed to ensure he remained so. It was time to stake his claim, as it were. He’d planned this for months, but he could never have foreseen the way his heart had fallen so completely out of the endeavor.

  If there was one thing he had in common with the blusterous Bunthorne, it was an attraction to the one maiden who was very different from the rest. Julia was no milkmaid, as the title character in this show was, but she had a similar artlessness that was undeniably alluring. Something he should not be thinking about right now, as he took Laura’s silk-gloved arm in his to walk downstairs to the lobby.

  Perhaps he was thinking about Julia too hard. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed a woman on the far side of the lobby who might have been her, except for the elegant gown she wore.

  He nearly tripped on the last stair as he looked again. It was Julia. She was chatting with three other young women, and she looked happy and more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

  “Is everything all right?” Laura asked, as he’d yanked her arm when he’d misstepped.

  “My apologies,” he murmured.

  They paused, waiting for the others to catch up to them. “What a crowd,” David observed, looking over the lobby. “I don’t think we’ll even be able to reach the refreshment room.”

  “I’m going outside for a smoke,” Delaford informed them. “I’ll rejoin you later.”

  As Michael and the others discussed what to do next, he couldn’t resist looking at Julia again. He hadn’t seen her since before Easter. Their next lesson was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Although she’d been in his thoughts, he didn’t realize just how intensely he’d missed her until her now. Or had he just not allowed himself to admit it?

  “Perhaps the gentlemen might be able to get us something to drink?” Laura suggested. “I’m about to faint from thirst.”

  David surveyed the lobby. “We should take the right flank and skirt those pillars along the perimeter,” he said, sounding like one of the Dragoons. “If we do that, we might gain the refreshment room—” He stopped short as something else caught his attention. “Oh, look, there is Jamie Anderson. Excellent. I’ve been wanting to ask him something.”

  He started forward but was arrested when Corinna took hold of his arm. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “You can’t go talk to him.”

  David looked genuinely perplexed. “Why not?”

  “Why not?” she repeated sarcastically. “Because as you’ve no doubt noticed, his wife, Dr. Anderson, is with him. It would be very bad to be seen in public with people who are Michael’s adversaries in the libel suit. Surely not even you can be so dense as to not know that.”

  Corinna often spoke deprecatingly to her husband in private, but she rarely did so in public. Michael thought it likely that the physical changes in her body were affecting her emotional state. Even Laura, who’d begun to know her fairly well, looked alarmed, her lips pursing.

  After years of marriage, David’s skin was so thick that he didn’t seem to notice the insulting barb in his wife’s words. He said only, “Anderson and I have worked together on the board of the Working Men’s Educational Union for nearly five years. I’m not going to ignore him in public simply because of a lawsuit that has nothing to do with either of us.”

  “What is the Working Men’s Educational Union?” Laura asked.

  “It’s a charity that presents ed
ucational lectures on science and other topics to working men,” Michael replied. “It’s often their only chance for learning beyond the very basic teachings they may have gotten as children.”

  “There is a thorny issue concerning an upcoming lecture that I must get Anderson’s advice about, and now is a good time to do it,” David said. “Besides, Anderson has always made it clear that he doesn’t involve himself in his wife’s business affairs.”

  “Not directly, perhaps,” Corinna pressed, “but think what this case means to Michael. To his career.”

  “London is not so big a town in some ways. I daresay that the longer Michael continues in practice, the more of these people he’ll be involved with legally—either as clients or adversaries. Now, if you persist in clinging to me, my love, you’ll simply have to come with me.”

  Although typically an easygoing man when it came to his wife, it was clear that in this instance David was not going to back down.

  “David is right,” Michael said. “I might refrain from speaking to them in order to avoid throwing any doubt on the integrity of the suit, but I see no reason why you two shouldn’t go.”

  He knew this was the last thing Corinna wanted to hear. It always irked her to be contradicted. Michael could sympathize with her concern about damaging his prospects. But he did think she had overestimated the danger. And every now and then he felt compelled to take his brother-in-law’s side.

  David smiled. “Rest assured I shall not broach the subject of the lawsuit. I expect they’ll be just as happy not to speak of it, either. This is a social evening, after all.” He tugged once more at his wife. “Come along, Corinna.”

  “One other thing,” Michael said, before they went. “You know of certain other matters that need to remain confidential.”

  At the moment, Julia and the Andersons were standing on opposite sides of the crowded lobby. He didn’t think they were aware of one another’s presence. He wasn’t even sure whether Julia knew them personally, since she was not yet a student of the school. But he gave David this reminder on the chance that, if Julia did know them and spotted them, she might go speak to them.

  “Understood,” David replied.

  Laura briefly pointed her opera glasses toward the Andersons to get a better look. “So that is the famous Dr. Anderson. I’ve never seen her before. She looks very nicely dressed. She even seems reasonably pretty.”

  Michael heard a note of surprise in her voice. “What did you expect? That she must be dowdy and ugly because of her choice of profession?”

  “You must admit that for the most part, those kinds of women are indeed, shall we say, less than feminine.”

  Michael looked at Julia again. This time, his gaze caught hers. Her mouth widened a little in surprise. She would be wise enough to know they should not acknowledge one another in this public setting. He had no fear on that account. That wasn’t why his heart was racing. It was because she was just the opposite of how Laura pictured such a woman. Even if dressed in her usual practical clothing, Julia would be, hands down, the prettiest physician to grace any hospital.

  He tore his gaze away, lest Laura should see where his attention was focused. So far she had not noticed Julia, and he hoped to keep it that way.

  Laura continued, “I once heard Dr. Anderson quoted as saying, ‘The first thing a female medical student must learn is how to behave like a gentleman.’”

  Michael was tempted to laugh at this clever turn of phrase. “I suppose that’s what it takes to succeed in a man’s world.”

  “Why should they want to?” Laura appeared affronted at the very idea. “Are you aware that even Her Majesty does not approve of women practicing medicine—at least in England?”

  “She is entitled to her opinion, I suppose.”

  He could see this comment did not sit well with Laura and decided it was probably time to change the subject. Besides, David, who was by now in animated conversation with Mr. Anderson, was pointing at him and Laura, obviously talking about them. It was probably something innocuous about their having been invited to sit in the viscount’s box, but still it made him uncomfortable. “We might be able to get you something to drink if we try going around the crowd the other way,” he suggested.

  They began to work their way through the crowd, Michael seeking a way that could avoid both the Andersons and Julia. But it seemed Laura’s mind was still on the Andersons.

  “Do you suppose Mr. Anderson really distances himself from his wife’s business affairs? I should think that, given the amount of notoriety she generates, he’d want very much to be involved.”

  “Perhaps he feels she is capable of handling whatever arises.”

  “But to act on her own like that when she is married just doesn’t seem right.”

  “I surmise that you are not interested in pursuing some sort of profession?”

  “Heavens, no! I think a woman, especially one who is a wife and mother, has enough things to keep her life full and rewarding.”

  “Perhaps Dr. Anderson wishes only to help people.”

  “There are many ways to do that through charity work or donations.”

  Volunteerism and charities were laudable, but Michael could understand why a person would want to get involved in a way that would have greater impact. He supposed Dr. Anderson was earning a good living, too. Not everyone could afford to give their time for free. But more importantly, he could understand a person’s driving need to make a real mark on the world. Wasn’t that what he wanted to do? He’d never thought about whether women could have this drive, too, but clearly it was so. It was an arresting point of view that he’d not considered before becoming involved in this lawsuit.

  They heard a man call out to them. “Miss Maynard!”

  They turned to see a couple making their way toward them. Michael thought the man looked familiar, though he couldn’t place him.

  “Miss Maynard,” the man said, taking her hand in his. “How lovely to see you.”

  “What a coincidence to meet you here!” Laura exclaimed, looking pleased.

  “Not such a coincidence, perhaps. When Louise told me you’d mentioned coming to the show tonight, we thought we’d come too and see what all the fuss is about. We were lucky to get tickets, but then, we might have paid a bit more than the going rate.” He looked proud at the admission that he’d been overcharged—or perhaps bribed a box office clerk? He turned his attention to Michael. “Mr. Stephenson, you may not recall me, but I was in your train carriage on the day of the accident.” He extended a hand. “Arthur Browne. And this is my sister, Miss Louise Browne.”

  “So pleased,” Miss Browne said exuberantly. “Miss Maynard told me all about the accident—what horror! It’s a miracle you survived!”

  “Did you all know each other before the accident?” Michael was still trying to piece together how Laura seemed to be on such familiar terms with them.

  “Not at all!” Laura answered. “But Mr. Browne was so kind to take me home that day. He was concerned for my well-being, for we’d all been through such a traumatic time. He asked if Miss Browne might call on me sometime, so of course I said yes.”

  Something about the way the Brownes wore their very fine clothes, and in their manners that were just a hair off the accepted etiquette, told Michael these two were probably nouveau riche. Social climbers who took advantage of any opportunity to strike up a friendship with someone in the aristocracy. Laura didn’t seem to mind; she clearly enjoyed their attentions.

  “You’re a barrister, I hear,” Browne said to Michael. “Myself, I’m in the stock market. I invest in manufacturing, too. It pays to diversify.”

  “Isn’t this show marvelous?” Miss Browne enthused. “My brother and I plan to attend the new exhibition at the Grosvenor Gallery next week. That is where those aesthetic painters have their shows, you know. I think I shall giggle if I see anyone dressed in the odd attire they are wearing on stage tonight!”

  Her thirst apparently forgotten, Laura ch
atted happily with the Brownes about the exhibition and other upcoming social events. Michael did his best to appear engaged, but he kept thinking of Julia, wondering how she’d been able to come here tonight.

  The bell rang, announcing that act two would be starting soon. The Brownes said effusive good-byes, but not before they’d elicited a promise from Laura that she would join them on a drive in the park tomorrow.

  As Michael and Laura made their way back upstairs, he looked around for Julia. She was nowhere to be seen. He knew they had a lesson in just two days’ time, but he would have enjoyed another glimpse of her in that dress.

  CHAPTER

  15

  JULIA ENTERED HER BOARDINGHOUSE, her mind filled with many things. She’d just posted a letter to Rosalyn and had taken the long way back in order to enjoy the lovely spring weather. She found she could think better when walking.

  Solvitur ambulando. She smiled, thinking of the proverb Michael had taught her. It is solved by walking. It was ironic, given that more of her walk had been spent thinking over her night at the theatre than on solving any specific problems. How surprising it had been to see Michael there. It had been less surprising to see he’d been escorting Miss Maynard. She was sorry for that, unable to shake the idea that he deserved a different kind of woman. Or was she judging Miss Maynard too harshly? She didn’t know her, after all. If Michael really was intent on wooing her, perhaps he saw something Julia didn’t.

  She made her way to the parlor, intending to spend some time preparing for her next Latin lesson. So preoccupied was she with her thoughts that, even after she saw the young lady seated by the fireplace, it took a few moments to comprehend what her eyes were telling her. It wasn’t until Cara jumped up from the chair and threw her arms around Julia that she fully realized her little sister was in London.

  Her heart did several somersaults, but whether it was from the joy of seeing Cara or dread that her sister might be out of work again, Julia didn’t know. It was definitely the latter emotion that caused her to exclaim, “Caroline Bernay, what are you doing here?”