The woman nodded her understanding and he continued to the sitting room.
“Is your cousin with the children?”
“Yes.” She started, brought to sudden remembrance. “We must tell Julia—”
“We will, my lady. As your doctor, I must first make certain you are cared for. Sit here.”
She obeyed, her movements slow and decorous, her gaze unfocused.
Nathaniel put his head outside the door and saw a maid hurrying down the hall, a tea tray wobbling in her hands. It was the maid he’d seen with Julia but a week past. He intercepted her, trying to recall her name.
“Emily?”
She stopped and stared at him, confusion written all over her face.
“Is that tea for Miss Devon?”
She nodded, then shook her head. “It was, but when Missus saw me with it she said to bring it to her ladyship instead.”
“Excellent. I will take it from here. Go at once and tell Miss Devon that her cousin has need of her.” After taking the tray into the sitting room, Nathaniel picked up his bag where he had dropped it inside the door and found a small glass bottle. He added several drops from the bottle to the cup and then poured the tea.
He went to kneel before the baroness and cleared his throat to gain her attention. She looked up at him, her eyes heavy with more tears.
“I’m sorry, Doctor. I ought to pour you tea.” Grief was a strange thing. It took hold of people and made them act in ways which often showed their true nature. Lady Heatherton was a gentlewoman, always attempting to put others first in her thoughts.
But she remained weakened, he could see, hardly able to stand on her own. The demands upon her in the morning, the necessary steps she must take to begin the mourning process, would be emotionally and physically taxing for her in her state.
“My lady, you are in no state to look after anyone. Your children are well cared for. The staff knows what to do. As your doctor, and as someone who holds you in the highest regard, I must impress upon you how important it is that you keep up your strength. The night before you is long and purposeless. I must ask you to drink this tea. I’ve added a sleeping drought to it. You are to take it and go directly to bed.”
“No.” She shook her head and drew her hands into her lap. “Charles cannot be left. It isn’t right.”
Julia appeared at his side, kneeling next to him, and her hands reached out to take her cousin’s. “Ginny, my dear, you must. Please.” Julia’s eyes were wet with tears, but her expression was compassionate and gentle. Nathaniel could not remember seeing a more comforting sight.
“Doctor Hastings is only trying to care for you,” she added after sharing a quick glance with Nathaniel. “The children will need you tomorrow.”
The baroness choked back a sob and met her cousin’s eyes. “I cannot leave him alone. Julia, he can’t—and the boys. They shouldn’t be alone.”
“The boys have fallen asleep,” Julia said. “Nurse Smyth is sleeping on the floor between their beds, in case they should need her. And I am here. I will make certain Charles is not alone. Tomorrow, there will be much to face, things you must do. You need to rest in order to get through it. You must take care of yourself, and then you may go on seeing to the rest of us. Ginny, please. It is the only way you will rest tonight.”
Then she reached out to Nathaniel and took the cup from his hands, her warm fingers brushing against his. They shared a glance over the cup, he trying to encourage her and she accepting it with the barest smile.
“Here, Ginny.” She placed the cup in her cousin’s hands and waited.
Lady Heatherton looked from the tea to her cousin, and Nathaniel saw the barest hint of acceptance in her eyes. She began to raise the cup to her lips. “You will not leave him?”
“I will not.” Julia’s firm tone was accompanied by a gentle hand on her cousin’s wrist.
The cup was emptied and her ladyship handed it back to her cousin. The two women rose together and Nathaniel watched, on his knees, as Julia led the grieving woman from the room. She glanced back over her shoulder to him, her lips forming the words thank you.
Nathaniel stood in the empty room and looked about himself. Nothing remained to be done that he could do. The staff would care for the house, Julia would see to her cousin, and in the morning the rest of the world would be told about the baron’s passing. With his patient gone, Nathaniel had no further part to play.
He bent unhurriedly and lifted his medical bag. His hand adjusted, finding the familiar place on the handles to grip, and he walked out of the room. The hallway remained dark except for the light streaming into it from the sitting room, and much further down the hall from the baron’s chamber.
Moving silently down the hall, Nathaniel went for the steps. He descended carefully and was about to go in search of his coat in the small cloakroom when he heard his name.
He looked up to find Julia at the top of the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder once, then came down with slow, deliberate steps. He walked to the bottom of the stairway to meet her and she stopped just above him.
“Miss Devon? Have you need of anything else?” He would do anything she asked of him. Leaving her in this house, knowing he would have little cause to come back to it, made him feel sick inside. But what could he do? A man died, his family must mourn, and Julia with them.
“I know a great many things will have to be done right away,” she told him, whispering. “But none of us know where Mr. Macon is and he should be informed. Would you contact Mr. Olivier and tell him of our need? He might locate Mr. Macon, and Virginia will need his counsel on what to do next.”
His hopes that she’d actually needed him entirely dashed, Nathaniel nodded brusquely and bowed. “I will go to Olivier right away.”
“Thank you. And thank you for helping Virginia. She needs her rest.”
“Of course. You are most welcome.”
Julia glanced over her shoulder again, looking up the stairs, and when she turned back to him she was nibbling on her bottom lip. “I am not certain how I will pass the night alone. But I must keep my promise to Virginia.”
Was she frightened to keep a lone vigil? He had never seen her balk at anything resembling duty before. But he could understand this; there were not many who would sit alone with a departed loved one.
“I understand. Are there any of the servants who might sit with you?”
Julia shook her head and brought a hand up to her forehead, releasing a weary sigh. “I would not ask it of them. My maid, Emily, is incredibly superstitious. And they all have enough duties. I will simply have to find a way to occupy myself.”
“It will be a long night.”
“I know.” She took in a deep breath and tucked a dark curl behind one ear before reaching out, her hand going to his arm. Her eyes searched his for reassurance he could not give. “When will you be back, Doctor Hastings?”
He regarded her carefully, taking in her sad eyes and her lips, neither smiling nor frowning, noting the way the candlelight in the hall picked up the copper flecks in her eyes and made them sparkle. Tired, sorrowful, and still the most beautiful woman he had ever known.
Nathaniel felt himself leaning towards her, drawn to her person, wanting only to embrace her, to hold her against him and protect her from the losses of the world. He lifted his hand to lay it upon hers, ready to speak though he did not know what he would say.
From the corner of his eye he saw Thurston exit the cloakroom with his beaver and coat. He took the escape with a large measure of relief. Nathaniel swallowed and took a step back, and she dropped her hand to her side again.
“I am not certain when I will return, Miss Devon, but you may send for me if there is a need. Good night.” He bowed, took his things in his hands before Thurston could help him into the apparel, and let himself out the door without another word. Only after he had sped past two other houses did Nathaniel slow enough to put on his coat and hat.
His heart would not stop loving her,
but his mind told him he must let go.
Chapter Eighteen
Nathaniel knew he had taken the coward’s way out, to leave Julia in such an abrupt manner. But the longer he stood looking at her the more confused his emotions became.
If anyone could talk sense into him it would be Timothy, and he’d already promised to go inform the man of the baron’s passing. He quickened his steps and kept an eye out for a carriage, though there would be none for hire this late in the evening. But Bath was not overly large, and Nathaniel’s long legs made it across the distance with speed.
Sometimes he wished he owned a horse, but it did not seem fair to keep an animal in town when he rarely had a use for it. Not to mention the expense.
Light still came from Timothy’s windows when Nathaniel arrived at his home, and he knocked without hesitation. Midnight was not too late for most in Bath.
The door was opened by a maid who brought him at once to her master and mistress. They were in their parlor. Both stood when he entered and Nathaniel froze in the doorway, studying them with a new sort of clarity.
Timothy and Mary loved each other. They hadn’t been acquainted above three weeks before they had agreed to wed, a courtship so brief it was nearly scandalous. But with Timothy as a third son, and Mary the daughter of a well-known gentleman-merchant, no one argued with the suitability of the match. Here they were, nearly two years later, in love and content to live in simple circumstances. Timothy did well as a barrister, but not well enough to buy a house in the country or elevate his wife into the upper echelons of society. Yet they remained happy together.
And he was envious of that happiness.
“Nate? What’s wrong? You look terrible.”
That stirred him from his thoughts. “The baron is gone. They need to contact his brother but aren’t sure where he’s staying.” He said the words without ceremony and wondered where all his tact had gone. Nathaniel must be more tired than he thought, and the exhaustion addled his brain. “And Lady Heatherton will need to speak to you soon, of course.”
“Poor Lady Heatherton,” Mary said, putting her hands on her cheeks and looking at her husband with wide eyes. “I cannot imagine—but Nathaniel, you are done in. Come and sit, I will bring you something to drink.”
“Coffee, I should think,” Timothy added as Mary went to the door. She only nodded and slipped around Nathaniel into the hall. “Come in, man. It will only take a minute to get you sorted and then we will dispatch a runner to Mr. Macon.”
“You know where he’s staying?”
“Of course. He informed his lawyer after his abrupt removal from the house, and his lawyer informed me.” Timothy retook his seat and crossed his arms, taking in Nathaniel with narrowed eyes. “Do they wish him to go to the house?”
“I think—yes. But I sent Lady Heatherton to bed. Miss Devon is keeping watch alone.”
“Alone?”
“They couldn’t ask the servants to stay.”
“Why didn’t you stay?”
Nathaniel groaned and rubbed at his eyes with one hand, then at the stubble on his chin. It had been a very long day and he really didn’t need Timothy confusing his thoughts further on this matter.
“I’m a doctor, not a member of the family.”
“You’re their friend, though. You’ve told me all about his lordship, your respect for them. And Miss Devon—”
“I couldn’t sit up alone with her,” Nathaniel said darkly. “Completely inappropriate.”
“A maid—?”
“Bother it, Timothy, it’s a dead man’s bedroom, not a courting parlor.”
Mary sailed back into the room with a hot cup of coffee. “Nothing added to it, as you like it, Nathaniel.”
He accepted the cup, but his mind stayed firmly on Julia. If the laws of society had allowed it, in any way at all, Nathaniel might have stayed. But his hasty departure from the house had its reasons, too. Being near Julia had become difficult, and the baron’s death thrust yet another barrier between them.
“Does my coffee offend you, sir?” Mary’s voice broke through his thoughts and he raised his eyes to meet the concern in hers. “Or is it something else? The baron?”
Nathaniel shook his head and took a quick sip, relaxing when it did not immediately burn his tongue.
“It’s Miss Devon,” Timothy said.
Nathaniel choked on his second swallow and started coughing.
“Must we discuss it?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“I think so.” Timothy smirked at his wife, perched on the sofa beside him. “Mary, he’s in love with her.”
“Still, or again?” Mary asked, her lips twitching as she glanced between Nathaniel and her husband.
“I’m not sure. He told Miss Devon off not too long ago. I thought he’d declared himself free of her.”
Nathaniel put his cup down on the side table roughly enough that the liquid inside nearly left the vessel. “That was on your advice.”
“I was advising a man I thought was no longer in love.” Timothy shook his head. “It was good advice.” He pushed himself off the couch and went to a small desk by the window. “I am going to write to Mr. Macon. Why not ask Mary what she thinks?”
Nathaniel slumped backward in his chair, dropping his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “Mary, as my friend is obviously going to nag at me until we discuss Miss Devon, what do you think about the situation?”
“I’m not entirely sure what the situation is,” she said, her voice taking on an airy, unconcerned quality. “You either love her or you don’t.”
“That’s oversimplifying.” He closed his eyes and raised his hand to rub his forehead. “My feelings hardly matter, one way or the other, given all that has happened.”
“Nathaniel Hastings, do you love her or not?”
He kept his eyes closed and pictured Julia as she had appeared the first time he’d seen her, innocent and enraptured by the sights of London. She’d looked about herself with such wide-eyed wonder, a pleasant change from all the calculating debutantes he’d seen in his time as a member of a noble family. He’d been halfway in love with her from their first meeting.
Then the day she’d sent him away, as indifferent to his suit as her dreadful father. But viewing the past through what he’d learned of her father only recently, knowing what he did of her sister’s marriage, he wondered if Julia had only meant to spare him more pain. Nothing about her character now, or ever before, had been cold. She’d never scoffed at his dreams, never made him feel inferior, only explained how things must be in her world.
A woman of only eighteen years had no say over her future.
Seeing her again, thinking of her, made his heart ache. And of late, being so near one another, it had taken all his willpower to remain at a distance from her. He wanted nothing more than to go to her and see her through the lonely watch.
“I love her,” he said, his heart rising within him, making all his cares lighter. “I don’t think I ever stopped.” He blinked and focused on Mary, sitting across from him and grinning in a most unladylike manner.
“Bravo. But you said your feelings don’t matter. Why?” She narrowed her shrewd blue eyes at him, studying him closely. “She is ready to become a hired companion or a governess. It does not sound as if her heart belongs to another, and that is the only reason I can see that would put you off a courtship.”
“That is too narrow a view of the matter.” Nathaniel leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and tried to ignore the sound of Timothy’s pen scratching out the note meant for Gerard Macon. “We are not in a position to court, assuming Miss Devon would even wish to try.” He dropped his face into his hands and sighed.
“You are both free. She is of age, you are an accomplished physician, I think you would do well together.” Mary’s voice stated each word boldly, without hesitation, and Nathaniel wondered if she imitated her husband’s courtroom manner in arguing.
“She is in a household which has gone into mourning. I c
annot even call upon her.”
“And she might not even have him,” Timothy said in an overly cheerful tone. “As we said, he did tell her off.”
“Miss Devon accepted my offer of friendship afterward.” Nathaniel felt it necessary to point that out to the other two. “And she’s been nothing but courteous towards me ever since.”
“Then you ought to find a way to tell her how you feel and let her make up her mind about the situation.” Mary’s eyebrows lifted and Nathaniel clearly saw her fighting back a smile. “Love finds a way, Nathaniel. And Miss Julia Devon, I believe, is quite taken with you.”
“Dreadfully obvious,” Timothy said, most unhelpfully. “The way her eyes looked so often to you when you were both here.”
Nathaniel cast a glare over his shoulder at his oldest friend. “Haven’t you a letter to write?”
“It’s done.” Timothy stood with the folded and sealed missive. “Informing Mr. Macon of his brother’s passing with instructions to come at his earliest convenience tomorrow. I’ll see about sending Robert, our cook’s boy."
“Let me, dear.” Mary stood and took the letter from him. “It sounds as though you and Nathaniel ought to talk.”
“The last time I talked to him, he told me to have done with Miss Devon and find a wife,” Nathaniel said, his voice lowered resentfully. “And at present he maintains it was good advice.”
“Given the information I had to work with, it was excellent advice.” Timothy stood as straight as a soldier but clasped his hands behind his back as he did in court.
Mary cast her gaze upward and sighed. “Men.” Then she left them with a swish of her skirts.
“What do you say now, with the new information you’ve been given?” Nathaniel asked, frowning darkly at Timothy. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He ought to go home and get a good night’s rest, his errand done. But with thoughts of Julia carrying on a lone wake, a few streets away, he knew he would not sleep.
Timothy strolled calmly across the room, then twisted deliberately on his heel to face Nathaniel again, regarding him with a serious expression. “I say you find a way to marry her, if she’ll have you, and then go forward making your lives happy.”
The Gentleman Physician: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 2) Page 17