The young woman, no more than eighteen, shook her head. “Not at all, Doctor. I won’t put you out that way. Let us go, at once, to this family.” She stepped towards the door, raising her hand to motion her companion to follow from her chair against the wall.
“Wait.” He matched his step to hers. “Miss Felicity, it isn’t necessary for you to go with me. I can return you home first.”
“Is it on your way to this household?” she asked, peering up at him through determined eyes.
“No, but—”
She raised a hand to interrupt him. “Doctor Hastings, I have a whole houseful of younger siblings. I would not want anyone, especially a flighty miss, to delay a doctor meant to attend to them. I assure you, I am able to keep still in a downstairs room with Mrs. Laurent for company while you attend to the boy in your care. If the hour grows late, I can return home without you. But there is no use in standing here, arguing about it.” She twisted on her heel and marched from the room, sweeping Mrs. Laurent up as she went.
Nathaniel nearly smiled and followed, pleasantly surprised that the talented musician was also a practical woman. He didn’t know many society misses he could apply that compliment to with any sincerity. Julia, certainly, but few others.
Julia. It was she who had penned the note. He hoped the child, whom she had not named, had nothing more severe than a cold. But in a house where death stood by the door, no one would be able to rest until he, the physician, proclaimed the child out of danger.
The small party said little in the carriage, for which he was grateful. His bag rested beneath his feet, as he believed in always being ready to aid someone in need. Some of his medical peers scoffed at his constant readiness, telling him a doctor could set hours for seeing to patients as ladies set hours for taking callers.
But Nathaniel had seen the fear in a mother’s eyes before, the loss of hope in a husband’s face, and causing another creature to experience such dread for even a second more than necessary went against his nature.
When they arrived, Miss Felicity looked up at the house and gasped. “Oh, this is Lady Heatherton’s home. I know her.” She hurried to step down and followed him inside, Mrs. Laurent following behind as if such late-night visits to houses of sickness were perfectly normal. Nathaniel counted his blessings that both ladies were sensible.
Thurston was waiting for them. It wasn’t late, by society’s standards. But Nathaniel could guess that those usually sleeping were wide awake in this house. Nathaniel made quick introductions of the ladies in his care and put them in the butler’s hands, then nearly ran up to the nursery as soon as he could cast off his coat.
A maid waited at the top of the stair to guide him up another flight of stairs and down a smaller hallway. A door stood open and he could hear quiet voices and rustling from inside. Nathaniel didn’t pause but walked directly into the room.
The sight that met his eyes reaffirmed his decision to hurry and his gratitude for Miss Felicity’s compassion.
Two little beds were against a wall, a lamp glowing between them, and a small fire crackled in the grate. One bed was empty, that boy likely removed from the room when his brother was discovered to be ill. Nurse Smyth was missing, too.
Julia sat on the bed, holding the little boy in her arms, while Lady Heatherton knelt beside them, bathing his forehead with a cool cloth. Both women looked up when he entered, their faces pale. Julia’s shoulders sagged and her eyes lifted to him, obviously relieved to have him there. The baroness gasped and came to her feet at once.
“Doctor Hastings, thank goodness,” she said, then put her hands to her cheeks as she began to cry. The poor woman had run herself into the ground, caring for her husband and worrying over everyone else. Though Nathaniel knew she did it from love, he also knew he would be ordering her to stay in her bed tomorrow as much as possible.
“Tell me what his symptoms are,” he said, going to take her place, kneeling by the boy.
The child was pale and one touch confirmed a fever. He was awake and wheezing as he breathed. Julia held him close to her, humming a gentle lullaby. Nathaniel lifted the boy’s nightshirt and checked the movement of his chest.
“When he went to bed, he said his throat ached.” Lady Heatherton spoke softly but with haste. “Julia gave him a comfit and that helped, as it did yesterday. He drank some water. That was three hours ago, and then Nurse Smyth came to get us. She said he was coughing terribly. It’s such a horrid sound—” She broke off when the boy’s coughing began.
Nathaniel had heard the sound before and he immediately relaxed. The fever was the most worrisome concern. The child’s cough sounded abrupt, painful, but like the bark of a seal Nathaniel had heard once, on holiday.
“Croup,” he said, helping to sit the child up more. “He has croup.” He cast his gaze toward Julia, meeting her tired eyes and smiling into them, trying to reassure her, before he turned to Lady Heatherton. “It is a bad cough and will go away with time. The damp can cause it, but so long as he continues breathing strongly, we have nothing to worry about. The best thing we can do at present is apply a mustard plaster to his chest and continue to keep him cool while he runs this fever. He’s a strong lad, my lady. This will pass in a few days.”
Lady Heatherton’s form went limp and she dropped onto the foot of the bed. “Thank heaven,” she whispered, raising a trembling hand to cover her eyes.
“I can’t say that’s something I’ve heard people say about croup,” Nathaniel said, keeping his words gentle and his tone light. He met Julia’s eyes, half-lidded with relief, and saw the color returning to her cheeks.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she near-whispered. She gently tucked a lock of hair back from the child’s forehead. “I will see about the plaster for Edward.”
Nathaniel helped her raise Edward from her lap, and Lady Heatherton swiftly took her son up in her arms. Julia left the bed and slipped from the room.
“Lady Heatherton,” Nathaniel said, gesturing to the boy. “Might I listen to his chest?”
“Yes. Of course.”
It was as he suspected. When the boy breathed in, there was a small rattling sound, but nothing alarming. Croup was common enough in children, and often reared its head at night or in the first hours of the child’s waking.
“Give him plenty of water with lemon and honey,” he instructed the baroness. “His brother can come back in the room if it won’t disturb his sleep. And you ought to let his nurse tend to him as much as possible. Your health is of great importance, Lady Heatherton, and you need your rest.”
She chuckled without much humor, and kissed her son’s forehead. “How could I ever rest, Doctor Hastings? My husband is dying, my son’s whole body shakes with this cough, and everyone expects me to keep control of myself and this household.”
Her forthright answer surprised him, no less for the defeated tone than the personal nature of her words. The dark circles under her eyes, the lack of color in her cheeks, gave him good reason to worry for her. Nathaniel also suspected she had lost some weight.
“You must let others help you, my lady,” he said, fixing her with his most professional frown. As young as he was, it didn’t yet carry the weight of a doctor with more experience, but he hoped she would see how serious he remained. “Your cousin wishes to be put to greater use. Give her more to do. Rely on the good people you have working for you. Tend only to those things which most need doing and let the rest wait until you have recovered your strength.”
She sighed and nodded. “I will do my best to follow your orders, Doctor.”
“See that you do.” He looked down at the boy to see him sound asleep. “There now. After the plaster is applied, he should sleep better. I will write out my directions for you and the nurse. Have you paper and pen?”
“Downstairs,” she told him. “And would you be so good as to send a maid up with your notes? I haven’t the strength to move at present.”
“Yes, my lady.” He stood and bowed. “I will write everyt
hing down and come back in the morning to see how he does.”
“Thank you,” she said again. “For everything, Doctor Hastings. I can see we disturbed your evening, and I am sorry for that.”
He glanced down at his fine evening wear, creased from kneeling next to the child’s bed, and shrugged. “I’m not sorry at all. I am the family physician, Lady Heatherton. It is my duty to come when called and my pleasure to serve you.” He bowed at the waist, then gathered his things and left.
A maid lingered in the hall, wringing her hands. When she saw him, she approached quickly. “How’s the wee one, Doctor?” she asked in a concerned, North-country tongue.
“He will be fine. It’s only croup. Could you please go to the kitchens and send up some hot water with lemon for him, and a spoonful of honey. Tea for Lady Heatherton, too, I should think.”
“At once, sir.” The maid curtsied and disappeared down a back staircase.
Nathaniel moved with a lighter step when he came down the hall to the main stairs, relieved that his reason for being called was not as dire as he feared. He met Julia on the stairs, her arms full of towels and supplies for a mustard plaster. She stopped halfway up and gave him a smile full of gratitude.
“Will he be all right, do you think?” she asked, her eyebrows lifted and her expression hopeful.
“Yes, once he is breathing a little easier. Croup rarely even lasts out a week. His cough will be at its worst late at night or when he first rises, but by breakfast every day he will be his usual self. If not, you must send for me again.” Nathaniel glanced upward and then down to where he knew the study to be. “I need to pen some directions for Edward’s care. Might I use the study?”
“Yes, of course. I will be down directly to collect your notes.”
“Excellent.” He continued on his way and she on hers.
Nathaniel entered the empty study and made short work of finding the writing supplies necessary to write out detailed instructions for Edward’s care, and Lady Heatherton’s need for rest.
∞ ∞ ∞
Julia found that Nurse Smyth had returned to the nursery and Virginia insisted on applying the plaster herself. Julia lingered, uncertain of what she might do, until a maid appeared with a tea tray. With several adults in the nursery, Julia felt able to slip out and go downstairs to find Nathaniel and get his list of directives.
She entered the study to find him bent over a sheet of paper, using a pencil to make his notes. Julia waited quietly at the door, watching him. His fair-colored hair shone gold in the lamplight, and the shadows showed every angle of his face in a way she could not help but admire. How many hours had she spent dreaming of that handsome face?
Nathaniel glanced up and paused when he saw her standing there. She tensed, hoping her admiration of him was not obvious. But she realized, when he only went back to his writing, that she remained mostly in shadow. He could not see her expression. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief but forced herself to take a step forward instead.
“I have written it all out,” he said, straightening and pushing himself away from the desk. He lifted the sheet of paper and held it out to her. “And as I told your cousin, I will be back in the morning to check on him.”
Julia stepped forward to accept the paper. She admired his handwriting, neat and precise, easily read. “I will be sure we study your notes. Thank you.”
“Not at all.” He stood still, peering down at her, the room more in shadow than light. She could not read his expression well, though it did not look overly pleased.
He took in a deep breath and glanced away, to the open door. “Miss Devon, as we have a moment to ourselves, there is something I must say to you.”
Her nerves must have been raw as she could not hold back the teasing words that rose to her tongue. “To me, or the doorway, Doctor Hastings? I’m down here.”
Nathaniel’s expression changed, growing harder, and he lowered his eyes to her.
She forced a smile, fighting back her disappointment in his obvious reluctance to speak to her.
“There now. I am ready to hear whatever you wish to say.” He must wish to continue their discussion from that morning at the park, about her worries for Virginia and what he might do to help the family. Already, he did so much. Though it seemed an eternity passed between the time Julia dispatched a messenger to find him and his arrival, she knew not even an hour had passed before he entered the nursery with his bag in hand.
“It is about our prior acquaintance, Miss Devon. About before, in London.”
His words had the same influence as a cold rain on her spirits. Julia’s cheer washed away and a chill settled into her bones. Though their past often entered her thoughts of late, she had not expected a need to revisit those memories in his presence. What could he possibly wish to say to her? Judging from his expression, his very reluctance to speak, it could not be anything pleasant.
“I hardly see the need to speak of matters from long ago,” Julia told him, looking anywhere but at his face. “I believe there is nothing to say.”
He folded his arms across his chest, his blue eyes like ice. “Perhaps not for you, but there are certain things I have wished to tell you for some time.”
Julia treasured her memories from the time before her father had dressed Nathaniel down, denying his suit. She tried not to even think about her last words to him, said with as much impassiveness as she could muster as she attempted to spare both their hearts any further pain. Hearing him speak of the past would only hurt more.
She took a step back, shaking her head. “Perhaps I do not wish to hear it, Nath—Doctor Hastings.” Julia bit her tongue and closed her eyes, mortified at the near slip. Thinking on the past had addled her enough that she forgot the rules of society and nearly said his Christian name aloud.
“You must, Julia.” Her eyes popped open when he spoke her name; the syllables sounded gentle on his tongue but she saw at once the rest of him remained in that hard stance, immovable, without warmth. “I let you speak, all those years before, and left without a fight. But now, as we are thrust together in a manner we cannot help, I must have my say.”
His determination made her cringe. He would say nothing good. But Julia knew she must be fair, no matter how much she wished to abandon the room. She could not abandon him.
“Very well,” she whispered. “Speak.”
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath and she could see the words collecting behind his eyes.
“When I asked your father for permission to court you and he denied me, I was not surprised.” Each word left his lips evenly; he didn’t hesitate over one of them. “But when I went to you, to tell you of what he said, to inform you of my intentions, and even my feelings for you, I was not permitted to speak. Instead, you told me it had been nothing more than a fancy of yours to pass time in my company, and a dream of mine that we could be more.”
“I remember,” she said quickly, looking away from him. “I do not need what we said rehearsed to me, Doctor Hastings.” Indeed, she repeated it often enough to herself.
“What you didn’t allow me to say five years ago was how much I truly cared for you. Our friendship meant a great deal to me, and the feelings I came to have for you were true and honorable.” He stumbled on that word and his eyes went to the ground, as though it shamed him to admit he’d cared for her in that manner.
His stance never relaxed, his eyes never softened. “I have never felt betrayal, or pain, as I did when you told me I ought to leave. I did leave. I left the entire city of London behind. I haven’t gone back.”
Julia clutched the paper in one hand and her skirt in the other, burying her fingers in the folds and pinching them together. To stand there and hear him speak of that time made her recall not just their conversation, but the words she exchanged with her father not long after; the words which led to her banishment from London and her father’s permanent disdain.
“I am sorry,” she said, but he raised a hand to prevent her from
saying more.
“You dealt me a serious injury, Miss Devon. It took me months to recover. Maybe more than months.” That admission gave him pause and Julia watched, aching for him and the pain she’d caused. When he continued, it was with a softer tone.
“But I did return to myself again. I found my way to Edinburgh to finish my training as a physician. I found my purpose in becoming a doctor, in healing the hurts of others.” He looked up at last, meeting her eyes more steadily, and she saw that purpose burning within them. “I needed you to know, to understand, that I am a whole person again and have been for some time. I have no ill feelings towards you, Miss Devon. I wish you the very best.” He offered the slightest of bows to her.
“I must excuse myself. There is a young lady in your parlor I must escort home again.” He stepped around her, picking up his bag from a table by the door. He disappeared into the hall without another word.
Julia couldn’t move, couldn’t understand what had happened. Had Nathaniel forced her to listen to his rejection of her? Did he only wish to inflict more pain?
No. He did not think she would feel anything about his declaration. He did not allow her to even apologize. All he wanted to say, from what she understood, was that he no longer cared for her at all.
Her heart shuddered and Julia forced away her feelings. She refused to allow them to weaken her. She would not examine them, not at present. Why should she even need to do so? It had been years since they walked together in the parks of London, laughing and talking, sharing secret looks, each word spoken hinting at more than a friendship between them.
Why should she even bother trying to determine why her chest felt as if a vise clamped around it?
Julia straightened her shoulders and went to the doorway, but paused when she saw an elegant woman, near the front door, accepting a cloak from Nathaniel’s hands.
Stepping back into the shadows, remaining unseen, Julia at last made sense of his final words to her. He had a young woman with him, and an older, genteel woman who must be a chaperone. They were well dressed, pleasant-looking people. And Nathaniel was smiling as he talked to them, all his cold formality gone. These people, strangers to her, set him at ease.
The Gentleman Physician: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 2) Page 8