“Julia.” He stopped her rambling with one word.
She crossed her arms and looked away, afraid he might see the silly tears creeping into her eyes or notice the ridiculous trembling of her lower lip. She bit her lip to keep her weakness from showing. She ought not to be tempted to cry. Perhaps she ought to be angry at the way he was so coldly reversing everything he’d said and done at their last meeting, but she could not find anger anywhere within her.
Michael closed the gap between them, startling her with his swiftness. He did not take her in his arms, although she thought—more foolish fancy!—that he looked very much like he wanted to. Standing mere inches away, he spoke softly and urgently. “It is I who must be grateful to you. I can’t leave you thinking that I don’t care, that my feelings for you have changed in any way. I thought I could, and perhaps that might have been better for both of us. But I see now that’s impossible.” His eyes were beseeching. “Will you allow me to explain?”
The feeling in the pit of Julia’s stomach told her that further discussion wasn’t going to make anything better. But her legs were still irritatingly untrustworthy, so now was not the time to try to walk away.
She sank onto a nearby bench. Michael joined her, leaving plenty of space between them. He even sent what Julia thought was a nervous glance around the park before he did so. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “I mean, aside from . . .”
She couldn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t answer. He looked as though he were trying to decide where to begin.
“Just spit it out.”
If her voice was caustic, it was because her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. She regretted her tone when she saw him wince. But he carried on anyway.
“Julia, there are circumstances, which I can’t explain, that make it imperative we spend no more time together.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
He turned toward her. “I love you, Julia. Please believe this has nothing to do with my feelings for you. With how much I want . . .”
His voice trailed off as Julia closed her eyes, squeezing them against the threatening tears.
“There are vital things at stake, regarding my family’s well-being, that I cannot ignore. You may not understand the reasons for my actions, but I know you can understand the motivation behind them. We talked before about the importance of family.”
Julia understood perfectly. He was going to marry Laura Maynard. He needed an aristocratic wife. Perhaps that was all that was needed to make Corinna’s return to society complete. Michael had clearly explained how much he owed to his sister.
“There is nothing more important than family,” she agreed, but the sentiment rang hollow in her heart. Perhaps it would have been better to believe he’d merely come to his senses, realized he ought to be putting his career and his social ambitions above a passing attraction to a woman who did not fit his agenda. Far worse to think he loved her still, yet chose duty above the leanings of his heart. It rebuked her, for she’d been so close to doing just the opposite.
If she left now, Julia knew she had just enough strength to walk out with some semblance of dignity. She stood up. “I should go.”
He rose swiftly to follow her. “Wait! There is one more thing. I want to keep helping you—with your lessons, I mean. I can at least pay for a tutor.”
“I would prefer you did not do that. You have fully discharged any debts you might have owed me.”
She did not slow her steps—not until his gentle hand on her arm stopped her.
“How do you repay a person for your life?”
The tender sincerity in his voice almost did her in. She met his gaze directly, although she knew it would put her scant bit of self-composure in peril. She wanted to look once more at his face—the gray eyes, the scar that was only partly covered by his hairline. The mouth that quirked at odd moments when he found something amusing. Everything that she would miss so terribly.
“There are many things in life that can never be repaid,” she said. “At those times, we can only store the gratitude in our hearts and never forget when someone has given us a profound and invaluable gift.”
She was referring to herself as well, what he had done for her and most especially for Cara. From the look in his eyes, she felt that he understood.
It was hard to walk away, but Julia did it. Somehow, she kept her legs moving forward. She had to believe, with her analytical mind, that no matter how the decision was arrived at, it was the best one for them both. But somewhere, deep inside, her irrational heart was refusing to fall in line.
Watching Julia walk away was the hardest thing Michael had ever done. This woman had come to mean so much to him, and yet she was simply leaving his life. And he had to allow it.
He would have preferred if she’d gotten angry at him, reproached him, told him what a terrible man he was. It might have been vanity on his part, but he’d even braced himself for the possibility that she might break down in tears, heartbroken.
Her cool acceptance was harder to bear. She hadn’t even pressed him for details. He thought it entirely possible that even if he had come to this meeting with a full marriage proposal, she would have turned him down anyway. She was placing her goal of being a missionary above everything else. And who was he to argue? Perhaps the Almighty really was directing her path. Had Michael just played his part to ensure it happened?
No. He could not believe that. Not when he considered that the decision was driven by the hatred and bitterness of the old earl.
He stood in that spot for a long while, giving her time to leave the park and get far enough away that he would not risk seeing her again. He felt battered and bruised enough already.
In time, the old man on the far bench tottered off, too. He probably lived close by. Still, Michael couldn’t help but feel a little nervous about his presence. Now that he knew the Earl of Westbridge had a network of detectives working for him, he was inclined to see people on every corner who might fit the bill.
Trying to shake off those thoughts, Michael began the long walk back to Gray’s Inn. Movement was what he needed now. Anything to keep him from being overtaken by sorrow or giving in to self-pity. Better to stoke his anger and indignation at being trapped into this position. Trapped by the needs of his sister, by the secrets his brother-in-law had kept, and above all by the plotting of a man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
By the time he’d reached Gray’s Inn, it was late enough in the day that he could reasonably suppose the clerks had gone home. He knew Tamblin would be gone, as he always gathered on Thursday evenings with a group of barristers and law students to discuss the most interesting cases of the week. Michael was glad for this. He had no desire to see Tamblin today.
He was about to go up the steps toward his residence when one of his clerks, Bob Masters, came out the door of the business office.
“So there you are, sir,” Masters said. There was a rare note of censure in his voice. “Did you not remember you had a meeting this afternoon with the attorney for the copper mine?”
Michael rubbed his forehead in frustration. “No, I suppose I didn’t.”
He could add dereliction of duty to his ever-growing list of faults.
“I told him you’d been called away on urgent business for a very important case. I phrased it in such a way that I could see he surmised it was the libel case. Then, of course, he was not so put out, because he admires his lordship.”
“You’re an excellent clerk, Masters. You know how to lie without actually lying.”
Masters beamed. “All in a day’s work, sir. Although I supposed that was where you were, anyway—with his lordship. On account of today’s news.”
“What news?”
“You mean you haven’t heard? The date for hearing the libel case has been set. It will be May twenty-fifth.”
“No, I hadn’t heard.”
“We’re ready, though, sir,” Masters said cheerily. “Everything i
s all set to win this case, eh?”
“Yes,” said Michael, not caring what his clerk might think of his glum attitude. “Yes, it is.”
CHAPTER
24
JULIA WAS SITTING IN THE OFFICE of the reverend Dr. MacKenzie, who was the director of the missionary society that Julia planned to join after she got her medical license.
She had sent a letter to the society months ago—not long after she’d arrived in London—requesting an opportunity to meet with Dr. MacKenzie. The fact that they had finally answered her letter only yesterday seemed to her fortuitous. A chat with them might raise her spirits. Now more than ever, she had to keep her mind and heart steadfastly focused on the future.
For nearly an hour, Dr. MacKenzie described their missionary stations in southeast Africa. He showed her the large map of Africa on his wall, with the locations of the camps marked with red circles. He told her about the schools and the practical skills they were teaching the natives, from sewing and cooking for the girls to building and farming for the boys.
“That’s all very interesting,” Julia acknowledged, “but what can you tell me about the medical clinics?”
“Medical clinics? Oh yes, there are clinics at every camp. Two physicians travel between them to attend to the worst cases.” He opened a ledger book on his desk. “What sort of contribution may I put you down for?”
“I will help wherever I’m needed. I’m already qualified as a nurse and working to become a doctor. That will take three years, but I thought I might begin corresponding with your medical personnel now, if possible. I’d like to get their advice on what areas of medicine I should study that will be of particular use in the field.”
“I must have misunderstood you.” Dr. MacKenzie picked up a sheet of paper that was lying next to the ledger book. Julia recognized it as the note she’d sent some months ago. “When you asked to speak with me regarding how you could contribute to our mission, I thought you were interested in making a financial gift.”
“I apologize for the misunderstanding, but I’m in no position to give money. I am a student with limited means.”
“So when you said ‘contribute,’ you meant . . . ?”
“Contribute myself—and my skills, of course! I intend to become a licensed physician before joining the mission.” She smiled at him, hoping to see some form of gratitude or interest.
Dr. MacKenzie shook his head, his hands moving in an accompanying negative gesture. “No, no, no. That’s impossible.” He snapped the ledger book shut. “We do not send female doctors.”
“But you already have—Dr. Jane Waters.”
The mention of Dr. Waters only deepened the scowl on the reverend’s face. “Dr. Waters is no longer affiliated with us. She left the mission, but not before causing a lot of bother and setting back our work considerably.”
“I beg your pardon?” Julia was unaware of this development.
“She brought unfounded accusations against our men, claiming they were somehow derelict in their duties. In fact, everything was going very well. But she had the audacity to think that she, newly arrived on the continent and barely out of medical school, could tell our seasoned missionaries how they ought to run things.”
“Surely her goal was only to make things better,” Julia protested. She didn’t know Jane Waters but felt compelled to rise to her defense. “Perhaps, being just out of school, she was bringing more current information—”
“What she brought was disrespect and an egregious lack of protocol!”
This seemed an overly harsh assessment, but Julia had no way to refute it.
“After some consideration, therefore, we have adopted new guidelines. Our female missionaries will limit themselves to teaching reading to the children and domestic skills to the older girls.”
Julia could hardly believe this. “Domestic skills,” she repeated flatly.
“And the Gospel, first and foremost, naturally. If your desire is to spread the Gospel to the uttermost part of the earth, as our Lord commanded, then shouldn’t that be your priority? You told me you’ve spent this past year at Queen’s College. I believe that has more than qualified you for missionary work. Why wait another three years when you can go right now? You need only complete our training program, which covers theology and the practical details of how the mission camps function and what we expect from our missionaries. That takes only a few months.”
“With all due respect, sir, why would you not want me to acquire extra medical training that could be invaluable in the field?”
“Miss Bernay, I have been a director of missionary work for nearly thirty years. There are very few things that I have not seen or dealt with before.” His smile was condescending. “You must believe me when I say I know what works best. There is no confusion or strife when everyone stays within the bounds of their specific responsibilities.”
Julia rose from her chair. “I’m sorry, sir, but I won’t give up on becoming a doctor.”
“It’s your decision.” He did not seem terribly disappointed by her words. Before she left, he said, “Take some time to prayerfully think over what I’ve said. I believe you will begin to understand and agree with what I am telling you.”
Julia made it to the chemistry lab at the same time as Lisette and Colleen. The students were performing a variety of exercises today. This was normally very interesting work, but Julia was still in turmoil over Dr. MacKenzie’s words. She slammed her chemistry book on the laboratory table.
“Careful, you’ll break the beakers!” Lisette admonished. “What’s the matter?”
“I just had a meeting with the director of the missionary society.”
“That would make me testy, too,” Lisette quipped.
Colleen was more receptive. “What happened?”
As they set up their experiment, Julia explained what had transpired at the meeting.
“It’s no wonder he got angry when you mentioned Jane Waters,” Lisette said. “She got in trouble for exposing the mistreatment of the natives in the camp. If she were a man, maybe they would have listened to her, called her a reformer. As it is, they called her an agitator and meddler and basically forced her out. But Dr. Anderson says Jane has gone to Cape Town and established her own practice, which is flourishing. She’ll have her revenge. Her work will impact thousands of people. She’ll be making better money, too, I’ll wager.”
“I’m glad her practice is doing well, but making money isn’t the primary goal.”
“Of course it is! We are rendering an important service. Don’t we deserve proper compensation?”
“What I meant was, Jane Waters also wanted her life’s work to glorify God.” Julia had read some articles Jane had written for a Christian paper before she’d left for Africa.
“Religion and medicine don’t mix,” Lisette said. “Not real medicine, anyway.”
“That’s not true,” Julia protested. “What about all the nurses in France and Germany who are nuns?”
“It is still their medical knowledge that heals people,” Lisette insisted. “The rest is peripheral. If you want to be a real doctor, you must set aside religious superstitions. When did those ever help anybody? It’s science that provides genuine answers.”
Julia was aware that Lisette did not pursue any kind of religious life, but she hadn’t realized until today that she was so hostile to the idea. “I can’t agree with you there. The spiritual realm has a greater impact on the physical than we can ever know. We ignore it at our peril. I always believed that my faith was what led to my desire to help people, not that I’d have to set it aside first.”
“There is a movement underway to send women doctors to India,” Colleen offered. “They are needed to care for the Hindu women who observe the custom of keeping separate from the men and refuse to seek care from a male doctor. Perhaps you could go there.”
It was not an idea Julia had ever considered. Her thoughts had been on Africa ever since she’d read a pamphlet about it years
ago. She wished to minister to spiritual needs as well as physical. What better place to do it than in Africa, where millions of people had never heard the Gospel of Christ? On the other hand, if the door was open in India, perhaps she should look into it.
“You must not try to convert them, though,” Lisette warned, effectively halting this new line of thought. “They have strict rules about that. These are high-caste Hindu ladies, and neither they nor the men want someone trying to change their religion.”
They went back to their work, but Julia was still agitated. It felt like the two options she’d explored today were equally untenable: to be a missionary but not a doctor, or to be a doctor but not a missionary.
Should she give up the idea of becoming a doctor? No. She was certain this was God’s will for her life; therefore she ought to concentrate on that first. Rosalyn had given sound advice: move forward on what one did know, and trust God for the rest.
But would it even happen if the school was forced to close? Julia thought of the libel case, of the disappointments in the earl’s life that had led him to pursue such a course of action. To lose his son must have been very hard indeed. She supposed he would want to preserve his family legacy in any way he could.
“My father thinks that by closing the school he can get me to come back home and be a dutiful daughter,” Edith had said. But if his lordship truly wanted to win back his daughter, he was going about it in entirely the wrong fashion.
Perhaps Julia’s efforts had also been misdirected. She’d once thought she might influence the outcome of the lawsuit through her interactions with Michael. Not only had that scheme been a failure, it had been a disaster for her heart, as well. Michael was fulfilling his obligations and doing what he felt was right. Julia would not hesitate to do the same. If she was going to have any impact at all, she had to go right to the source.
She would talk to the earl himself.
Michael rose after a sleepless night, completing his morning routine and eating his breakfast with a weary soul. In the quiet of his room, he sat unwilling to move. Then, for the first time he could remember since his mother died, Michael truly prayed. He offered it up in sincerity, pouring out his heart with no reservations. It was nothing like what he’d attempted during Easter or later, when Julia had asked him to pray. With all that had happened, and especially losing Julia, he supposed he ought to give up on the idea of prayer altogether. But he was determined to give it one more try.
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