Doctor...to Duchess?

by Annie O'Neil

  “He was so proud of you, you know. All you’ve achieved.”

  Oliver pulled back and looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief. “Which was what, exactly? A drop in the pond compared to what he did.”

  “What you’ve done with your career is different, Oliver—but it still makes a difference. Surely you can see that?”

  “I was meant to follow a very particular path and only succeeded in making a compete hash of it. I had to leave, had to do something else so I didn’t ruin anything else here.”

  Coming from someone else, the words would have sounded plaintive. From Oliver they were the cry of a soul in torment. He just couldn’t see all of the good he’d done in the world, and Julia’s heart ached for him.

  “I hardly think the countless patients you’ve seen and helped would agree.”

  “I think my mother would agree with me. The things I was supposed to do—the shoes I was supposed to fill—they’re still empty, Julia. Can’t you see? My life is a catalog of letting the people I love down, and the longer I stay here the more obvious it is—I will never be my brother. I will never earn the title.”

  “You were never meant to be anything other than who you are, son,” Oliver’s father interjected from the doorway.

  Oliver was at the door in two long-legged strides. “I didn’t mean it that way, Dad—this isn’t about you.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. There is an awful lot of this that has to do with me. I saw how your mother’s grief affected you and I did nothing. I let you leave us without making sure you knew how much we loved you.”

  “I always knew you loved me, Dad.” It was easy to see in his eyes that much was true.

  “And your mother loved you too, son. Very much.”

  Oliver shook his head as if trying to keep his father’s words at bay. Julia could see he couldn’t believe them.

  “How could she have? I was a terrible son—never facing up to what I’d done. I ran away, away from all of my responsibilities, as soon as I could.”

  Oliver’s eyes lit on Julia, and clear as day she understood: Oliver didn’t feel he’d earned the right to stay.

  She physically ached to go back to him, hold him, assure him he could start afresh. Everyone’s heart in St. Bryar was wide-open to him. But you couldn’t hold someone somewhere against their will. Not if their heart wasn’t in it.

  His father laid a reassuring hand on Oliver’s arm, steadying his son’s gaze. “It’s a terrible night and we’re all very sad. But you mustn’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. You have always been loved, just as you are.”

  Julia’s heart leaped to see a small glimmer of light return to Oliver’s eyes. He may never find peace here in St. Bryar but perhaps, one day, he could find peace. She’d find solace in that one day, too—knowing he was happy.

  The duke gave Julia a small nod and smile then continued, “Oliver, why don’t we give everyone else a chance to say goodbye? I think you and I could do with raising a glass to Dr. Carney back at the house.”

  “You know—there’s something you could do for me if you’re heading back up to the house.”

  Oliver looked at her with a baffled expression.

  Julia deftly ran from the room to her office and picked up the scrapbook her daughter had never put back.

  “Here you go. I’m afraid Ellie didn’t put this back when I asked her.” She handed it to him without having the nerve to look into his eyes. “Kids!” She gave a nervous laugh. “You might want to have a look. It’s a good read.”

  * * *

  “Are you sure there’s enough, Dr. MacKenzie?” Clara, hand on hips, was dubiously eyeing the long trestle table laden with just about every canapé and finger food imaginable.

  “I think you’ve done him proud, Clara. Dr. Carney would be impressed.” Julia gave Clara a quick squeeze round the shoulders. The poor woman must’ve been up for days from the looks of the vast spread that lay before them.

  They both started at the sound of the entry bell then looked at each other and quietly laughed. “And so it begins!” Julia scanned the large library, her arms curled around herself as mixed feelings washed through her. Wakes were funny things. Happy and sad. It was a shame this was most likely the last time the villagers would come together at Bryar Hall. A farewell to the hall, as well as to Dr. Carney. And, much more painfully, to Oliver.

  She gave herself a shake. At least today was a celebration of someone’s life.

  Footsteps clipped down the stairwell.

  Oliver.

  Black tousled hair, clean shaven and bespoke-suited, the Marquess of St. Bryar looked every bit the future heir to a grand estate. Life could really be ironic sometimes.

  It was probably just as well she’d hardly seen him in the days since Dr. Carney had passed. He’d been holed up in the library with his father and the estate accounts, the pair of them inseparable. It was hard to believe the laughter and steady flow of chat she heard coming from the room would ultimately lead to his departure.

  She gave her head a quick shake and held her chin high. Oliver didn’t need to know she’d spilled more than her share of private tears over the past few days. He’d found peace with his father and would leave without the burden of regret. That should be enough.

  Who was she kidding? Her mind knew the facts, but her heart was finding it impossible to say goodbye.

  Bryar Estate wouldn’t be the same without him, and for the first time she was beginning to question the wisdom of staying on once he was gone. Everything would irrevocably change. St. Bryar would no longer be the colorful palette of the duke, the villagers, the flower contests and lemon drizzle cakes that made up her adopted home. St. Bryar had changed for her. It was Oliver. And he would soon be gone.

  He stopped midway down the stairs, those green eyes of his locking with hers, his expression unreadable. Her gut clenched and an explosion of heat detonated in her very foundation. C’mon, Julia. It’s all over now. Act English. You can do this.

  * * *

  A maid opened the main door for the villagers who had begun to arrive in droves. Oliver knew he should be down among them, meeting and greeting, but he couldn’t move for the effect Julia had on him. Seeing her standing at the entrance with his father, a simple navy dress lightly outlining her figure, blond hair brushing on and off her shoulders as she turned, took his breath away. Shaking hands, smiling, touching a shoulder, laughing quietly with someone, consoling someone else, connecting, she looked every bit the lady of the house.

  He thought he’d already known it in his heart—but it well and truly hit him like a bolt of lightning now. He’d made the right decision. Julia belonged here. He couldn’t believe he’d spent the past weeks being about as thickheaded as they came. He should’ve realized long ago that love at first sight was a very real thing. Even if you needed to clear a bit of the mud away to see the whole picture.

  Julia personified everything he had imagined Bryar Hall should be. Could be. If he hadn’t been so mired in the past, he might have seen straight away that a life with Julia was exactly what his mother would have loved for him.

  He saw that now—clear as day. Saw the pride in the careful notations his mother had made in her scrapbook. And no matter how awful it had been when Alexander had died, it hadn’t been his fault. No one had been to blame.

  And life was about right now. Not drowning in a sea of regret.

  And right now, watching Julia command the grand hallway of his family home, Oliver knew the work he’d done, the late nights he’d pulled over the past three days, had been worth it. They had to be if he was going to win back Julia’s respect. Her approval. She alone knew he was capable of more than he had ever given—professionally and personally. Because of her, he would spend the rest of his days striving to be a better man.

  His gaze softened as he continued to watch her. The ease and grace with which she handled herself was simultaneously compassionate and genuine. If he’d thought he’d loved her before, Ol
iver knew now that Julia fully claimed his heart.

  Adrenaline flooded through him. Before he could change his mind, he was by her side, joining in welcoming the people of St. Bryar with Julia alongside him. It felt right. It felt real.

  “I can’t believe you were going to do this at the clinic,” he muttered sotto voce.

  She stiffened. Not the best opening gambit, then.

  “It was his home away from home. But your father insisted we have it here when it became clear everyone was going to come along.”

  “You’ve done a brilliant job organizing all of this.” Oliver put a hand on her elbow and turned her toward the library as the last of the guests arrived. She kept her eyes trained on the crowd and ever so slightly turned her shoulder away from him. He’d hurt her badly and it stung. He wanted her to know everything in his heart but was now the right time?

  “You should say a few words before you go. Everyone would appreciate hearing from you.”

  Oliver hesitated. Of course he would say something about Dr. Carney but so much else needed to be said. Could he explain it all? Tell everyone—Julia—what a fool he’d been?

  “Don’t worry, Oliver,” she encouraged, mistaking his hesitancy. “I’ve seen you cast your spell over dozens, scores, of people at a time. I have zero doubt in your ability to say something about Dr. Carney as long as you speak from the heart.”

  The energy between them began to build. He felt a surge of pure connection—one so complete he could never have imagined it possible. The dart of pain he saw flash across her eyes was like a shot of poison through his bloodstream.

  Yet, here she was, offering him good advice. Non-judgmental. Caring. It was proof that she loved him—and he’d done so very little to deserve it.

  The tips of his fingers tingled as a physical ache to touch her took hold of him. He wanted to tell her how he felt, put words into action. Make her dreams come true.

  “Oliver! Over here.” The vicar waved Oliver over to a small group standing by the fireplace where his father was midway through a story.

  Brilliant timing—as usual.

  Stop it, Oliver. New beginnings.

  He gave Julia’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll put something together. Trust me.”

  * * *

  Julia watched as Oliver joined the group, her body still responding to his touch. How that man had turned her life topsy-turvy, crushed her dreams of a quiet little life in the country to a pulp and still laid claim to her heart was well and truly beyond the confines of logic. The sooner he sold up and moved away, the better. Right?

  What was that saying? Better to have loved and lost...?

  Humph.

  That saying was pants.

  “Dr. MacKenzie, can I get you some carrot cake?”

  Elsie and her carrot cake appeared from the crowd.

  Perfect.

  Oliver hated it. And she needed to hate him. If by some strange turn of events he tried to kiss her—which would be weird, considering he’d made his intentions to leave particularly clear—he would be repulsed. And maybe even break out in a rash. Which would be satisfying for about half a second.

  His laughter floated across to her from where he appeared to be holding court with a fireside clutch of villagers. She tried to create an Oliver-free force-field around her.

  Nope. No good. He still gave her tummy flutters.

  “Any lemon drizzle on offer?”

  “Are you all right, Dr. MacKenzie?” Elsie was peering at her as if mushrooms had suddenly started sprouting out of her ears.

  “Of course, just—you know—” She halfheartedly turned toward the crowd. “It’s just hard to take it in.”

  “I know, dear. We’re all going to miss Dr. Carney dreadfully. All the villagers feel so lucky to have you here. We’re all ever so grateful you’re staying put.”

  Julia swallowed a bit of cake and forced a smile onto her lips. This was going to be a long day.

  * * *

  “Could I have everyone’s attention, please?” Oliver pinged a fork on the side of his wineglass and took a step or two up one of the library’s short ladders.

  As the crowd settled, he eagle-eyed Julia. She was tucking herself behind a gaggle of women over by the French windows as if hoping for a quick escape. He’d taken over two hours to “come up with a few words.” He hoped to heaven they were the right ones. Oliver threw his traditionally private self to the wind and began to address the crowd. This wasn’t about him, after all.

  “Dr. Carney would be the first to be humbled by the incredible show of affection and community here today. He played a role in all of our lives. Some of us, he brought into the world. Most of us, he saw through life’s usual aches and pains. And for those of us who lost loved ones, he was always there to provide comfort in the wake of their loss. He was, in short, always there. For that we owe him a debt of gratitude and a well-deserved toast.”

  He sought Julia’s blue eyes as he raised his glass and, as she met his direct gaze, drew strength from their clarity. “What all of this has taught me is to be a bit more honest with myself. Many of you have heard—or even started rumors—that I myself will be moving on.” A murmur of nervous laughter and hushed conversation confirmed what he knew to be true. He’d been unfair to hold the villagers on edge. Over the past two hours he’d spoken with everyone whose livelihood was tied in with the estate; he hoped that they could finally rest easy. Today he was decided. Today he knew which way his destiny lay.

  “Which is why,” he continued, “I would like to announce today, in order to make a clean slate of it—a fresh start—all of the changes that will be coming to Bryar Estate.”

  * * *

  Julia dug her fingernails into her hands, wishing she could clamp her ears shut—or better yet run from the room. Talk about torture! She knew it wasn’t personal but watching Oliver up there, preparing to tell everyone about the sale, felt like being dumped in front of her nearest and dearest. Fleeing would be easy—but it was the coward’s way out. If he was going to bail on her publicly, she was going to take it without one single tear spilled. Chin up!

  “A while ago, my father was telling some of you about the days when he first moved to Bryar Hall.”

  Another murmur of interest rose from the crowd. Julia tuned in more closely. Where was this going?

  “Not all of you will know, he and his family stayed in the Gate House while the main house was used as a hospital during World War II—as it had been in World War I. Dr. Carney, in fact, was the son of the midwife who delivered my father.”

  “Hear, hear!” shouted one of the older villagers. There was laughter and another round of clinking glasses. It was a great story, but Julia was now impatiently rapt. Where exactly was all this leading?

  Oliver adjusted his stance on the ladder and continued, eyes firmly fixed on Julia. “As some of you might know, Dr. MacKenzie has been working night and day trying to secure funding to move our little country hospital out of the dark ages and into the modern world. It was with great sadness that I came upon all of her applications for grants and saw that they were unsuccessful.”

  The collective hush of the crowd began to physically press in on Julia. She could hardly breathe. Was he really going to humiliate her in front of everyone? Right here in front of all these people on the very day they were meant to be celebrating Dr. Carney? Of all the selfish...

  “Which is why my father and I would like to put forward the proposal that we follow in the footsteps of my forebears and turn Bryar Estate back into a rehabilitation hospital for the wounded veterans who serve our country and—when able—open the doors further to those affected by war in other countries.”

  Julia’s heart swooped up her throat and began flying round the room on fairy wings. She watched, openmouthed, as Oliver shushed the crowd for more. “We will, of course, keep the clinic open for your day-to-day needs and hope some—many—of you will consider job offers here at the main house once it is up and running. I’ve spoken w
ith a few of you already—and I hope the village as a whole will be pleased to hear the Bite of St. Bryar inspired us to seek agreements from the estate’s farmers to supply food for the hospital’s kitchens.”

  Julia’s hands flew to her mouth. It was a wonderful idea. But what about him? He still hadn’t mentioned what he would be doing in all of this.

  “You ladies who hold court at Elsie’s with your knitting needles?” Oliver scanned the room and stopped at a group of women by the buffet. “We’ll be needing some of your lovely jumpers and blankets if you’re up to the challenge.”

  “Just try and stop us!” cheered one of the women.

  Oliver’s smile turned sober. “All of this, of course, will take a lot of work and a lot of change but, if you’re up for it, this is the path I would like Bryar Estate to follow. It is inspired in large part by Dr. Carney and Dr. Julia MacKenzie. For their selfless contribution to our lives, we should all raise a glass.”

  A stunned silence followed, quickly broken by Reg Pryce.

  “Hip-hip hooray!”

  The crowd began to mark out the cheers, Oliver looking increasingly delighted as each “hooray” did its best to lift the roof.

  Julia couldn’t move. She felt absolutely stunned. Did this mean he was staying? Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a glimpse of him as he was absorbed into the crowd.

  Was he staying? Her body felt all floaty and light, her fears of losing him reordering in her mind. A rush of emotion threatened to overwhelm her as Oliver unexpectedly appeared before her. All she felt capable of was staring at him with a happy, dazed grin on her face.

  “What do you think, then?”

  About a thousand million things! Speech eluded her as he continued, “I think it’s a plan that could really work, for the patients and the village.” He put a finger to her lips before she could respond. “There is only one condition.”