The Gentleman Physician: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 2)

by Sally Britton

  “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.

  “I am back with Julia. May we come in?” Lady Heatherton’s voice called out.

  “Yes, enter.”

  Nathaniel heard the name, but he did not react. There were hundreds of Julias in England, probably dozens in Bath. The name dredged up many memories, but he could fight them down. Usually upon hearing it he experienced one pinprick of pain in the region of his heart and he focused his mind elsewhere until that pain had gone.

  The door opened, Lady Heatherton floated into the room, and Julia Devon walked in behind her.

  The world went still and time itself froze while Nathaniel gaped at the woman he’d thought loved him, as though he’d been starving for the sight of her the last four and a half years. No one existed outside of Julia and himself.

  Her dark hair lay on her head in intricate twists of curls, her heart-shaped face remained fair and free of blemish, and her petite form, wrapped in pale green, moved with the grace of a do
e.

  Nathaniel took all of it in before she glanced to his corner of the room, but that did not give him enough time to compose himself. When her eyes landed on him, her face must have mirrored his shock. Her skin went pale, her eyes widened, and her lips parted in a silent gasp. He found it difficult to take a breath and his pulse hammered wildly in his ears, knowing she saw the same reaction to their nearness in his face.

  “And how does my husband today, Doctor Hastings?” Lady Heatherton’s voice asked, sounding far away.

  Nathaniel blinked and looked to her, where she stood by her husband’s bed. The baron and baroness had eyes only for each other and had not seen the reaction of either cousin or doctor.

  The shock of seeing Julia remained at the forefront of his mind. But his confusion of thought and emotion remained enough that he quite forgot Lady Heatherton’s question.

  “He is angry with me,” the baron said, after the long pause. He shrugged and put on a sheepish grin. “He thinks I ought not to have allowed myself to become ill. I quite agree with him.”

  “As do I. It was a terrible thing to do.” She spoke the words lovingly, tilting her head to one side to regard her husband with affection.

  Nathaniel peered at Julia again and saw that she had composed herself, her hands held in front of her and a polite mask fixed upon her face. He swiftly followed her example, squaring his shoulders and taking several steps forward.

  “You must be Doctor Hastings,” Julia said quickly, her eyebrows arching high. He met her eyes and saw the plea in them; she did not wish it known that they had already met.

  Ah, he thought, she is still ashamed of me.

  But it would be easier, all things considered, to play along. He was nothing to her, and she had removed herself from his life long ago. Indifference would be the best way to handle the situation they found themselves in, and he must endeavor to hide the pain her nearness caused.

  “Forgive me,” Lady Heatherton said, gesturing to her cousin. “Miss Julia Devon, our doctor, Nathaniel Hastings. I am afraid formalities are often neglected in this room, Julia.”

  They didn’t need formalities, so well were they acquainted. Once, they had even called each other by their Christian names, something tantamount to an understanding between most couples.

  “Miss Devon.” He said her name with more shock than politeness. She remained unmarried. How could that be, given her beauty and her father’s obvious hunger for advancement? Had no man suited their high expectations?

  Julia tipped her face up and hid whatever her true feelings were behind a half-smile, her words falling from her lips with haste. “Doctor Hastings, it is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard a great deal about you.”

  From whom? Her cousin? There were no other links between them; there hadn’t been for years. The distance felt all the greater for her pretending not to know him.

  Her voice quivered as she spoke her next words. “I understand I am to take instruction from you.”

  He wanted to flee the room, to deny any need to speak to her at all, but that would not be professional and would certainly result in offending his patient. If Julia was going to be in this house for a protracted amount of time, she would need to know how to see to the baron and to avoid the sickness for herself. He had a duty as a doctor to speak to her.

  “Yes, Miss Devon. It will not take much of your valuable time.” She winced, and he tried not to notice. “If you will come to the wash basin, we should begin there.”

  “My cousin has told me about washing,” she said, her steps quick and light, hurrying to the wash stand. “It makes remarkable sense, I think, given your study of the matter.”

  If he had allowed himself to have a favorable opinion of Julia Devon, that remark would please him. Was she trying, however subtly, to make amends with her compliments? He did not think he could allow it. Loving her had left him a broken man for too long. Opening his heart to her, even enough to forgive the pain of the past, could only end in disaster. As it was, he only wanted to get through the next five minutes and then leave the house as hastily as possible.

  “Be certain you wash thoroughly with the soap. The water ought to be changed soon. But if you wash when you enter the room, and again when you exit, you run less risk of infection. While we are not certain how the disease is spread, washing before and after interactions with patients, with any manner of ailments, keeps the caretaker in good health.”

  He swallowed at the end of his speech, repeated often enough that he barely needed his mental faculties to say it again. It was a good thing, too, as the sight of her delicate hands in the water reminded him of their past. How often had he tucked that hand through the crook of his arm? Held it during a dance? He couldn’t count the number of times the placement of her gloved hand on his arm made his blood pound and his stomach flip.

  “Yes, I see.” She dried those hands and then looked to him again. “What else should I know, Doctor?” After she spoke she pressed her lips together tightly but kept her eyes on his. He could not be sure if this was an attempt to show him how little his presence affected her or if she was truly only absorbing his instructions.

  He spoke expeditiously, but precisely, on how the bedclothes, clothing, and handkerchiefs for the baron must be handled, how the children were to remain away from the bed if they came in for visits but still ought to wash, and how to administer laudanum for the baron’s comfort. She said nothing, only nodded her understanding as each task was explained.

  “Have you any questions?” he asked at last, his only desire to quit the room. He communicated that wish with a judicious frown directed to her.

  Her eyes were swimming with questions, or so he imagined, watching them briefly pass over what must have been his unwelcoming expression.

  She shook her head and at last lowered her eyes, staring somewhere beneath his chin as she spoke. “No, sir. I think you have explained everything perfectly. I will apply to Virginia if I am uncertain of anything you’ve said.”

  “Very good.” He glanced back to his patient and saw Lady Heatherton attending to him with tea. He released a sigh and peered down at Julia again, realizing he must impart one further thing to her. He lowered his voice.

  “You should also look after your cousin. Lady Heatherton must stay in good health if she is to attend her husband as she wishes. If you notice her, or anyone else in this household, exhibiting symptoms of illness, send for me at once.”

  “Yes, Doctor. Of course.” She bowed her head in a deep nod, not meeting his eyes.

  Nathaniel twisted away from her, his words spent and his good humor completely fled. “Lady Heatherton, I must take my leave. But I will come back tomorrow.”

  “So soon?” she asked, her face falling. “Is he worse?”

  “I will know for certain tomorrow. But you are both aware of how this will progress. Please, use this time to make good memories, and strengthen those you already treasure.” He half-bowed, then gathered his things and left with speed, not waiting for anyone to show him out.

  He was halfway down the corridor, the stairs in sight, when a voice called him from behind. Her voice.

  How many times had he imagined he heard her as he walked through crowded streets? If a woman laughed, if a girl spoke with a similar inflection, he always made certain to assure himself it could not be her.

  “Doctor Hastings, please. A moment?”

  Nathaniel stopped, looking over his shoulder, and saw Julia hurrying towards him, one hand lifting her skirts to make the journey across the polished floors faster. Once she stood a few paces away, she stopped. The familiar scent of lilacs drifted in the air, unearthing a long buried memory.

  Then she spoke with haste, her hands opening in an expansive gesture.

  “When Virginia told me the name of the doctor, I thought it might be you. But I dismissed the possibility, more from a wish to avoid such a meeting than anything. I am sorry if seeing me is unpleasant, but I hope it will not affect your treatment of Charles.”
She brought her hands together, clasping her fingers at her stomach, as though to hold in anything else she might say.

  He straightened his bearing. “Miss Devon, I am a physician. My first responsibility is to my patients. Your being here will not change anything about my behavior towards the baron and his family. Our prior acquaintance will have no bearing on me at all.”

  Her lips parted, forming a small ‘o,’ and she blinked slowly. “I see.” She lowered her eyes again and nodded. “Good. Well. Thank you for your kindness.” She took a step back, giving him leave to go.

  Nathaniel glanced towards the stairs, barely four steps away, then back to her.

  If he was not aware of how they parted last, he would have said she appeared distressed at his words, her eyes on the floor and her arms coming up to wrap around her waist. He hesitated, knowing he must speak his thoughts.

  “The baron is not doing well, Miss Devon. I think he has less time remaining than I originally supposed. Your being here will help Lady Heatherton immeasurably, if you maintain compassion and good humor in the face of what will be a terrible parting between two people who care for each other.”

  Julia raised her eyes to his and dropped her head once in an understanding nod. “They are devoted to each other. I know Virginia is keeping a brave face on for all the world, but her heart is breaking. I will do everything I can for her and those boys, never fear.” The conviction in her gaze reassured him, easing his mind on that account. “Thank you for taking care of them,” she added, her voice softer than before.

  Nathaniel bowed, then spun away from her, moving quickly to the stairs, taking the steps swiftly. He turned around once, as the butler helped him on with his coat, and saw her standing there, at the top of the staircase. She lifted her hand in the smallest of waves, a gesture he had seen from her before, and his traitorous heart ached at the memory.

  At the end of their walks in Hyde Park, she’d often wait until he turned around to wave him one last goodbye. Except at their last meeting. The memory stung.