Nathaniel threw his hands in the air and jumped to his feet. “As though it’s a simple thing! When am I to see her to profess these feelings? She’s assisting her cousin, who has only tonight become a widow, and living in a house of mourning. Where will we go to discuss such things? Balls and assemblies are out of the question. Who will chaperone her? The woman who has lost her husband? What sort of beginning would this be? And let us not forget that Lady Heatherton is going to have to fight to remain the guardian of her own sons. Now is not the time to give that family more to worry about.”
“And that’s your final word on the matter?” Timothy asked, arching his eyebrows. Nathaniel absently noted that the cut above his eye must be nearly healed to achieve that level of skepticism.
“It is. Yes. Final.” He thought carefully on all he had said, nodding. He went to the window to look out over the dark street, ignoring the quick thrumming of his heart.
“Very well. But I must tell you that I’ll have need of your services in the morning.”
“What?” Nathaniel pulled himself from his study of the house across the way to stare incredulously at his friend. “Tomorrow morning?”
“Yes. As you are well acquainted with Lady Heatherton and will be important to her case, I must ask that you come with me when I meet with her. Now that her husband has died, the brother will rush the courts with his demands. We must devise a good defense for her. I realize it is not the best of times, given her new state of mourning, but we will go through the tradesman’s entrance and show great respect.”
Nathaniel glared at the barrister in silence, until his mind finally wrapped around the situation and took in Timothy’s strained expression. His friend’s eyes laughed even while he put in a huge effort to keep his face straight.
“You want me to talk to Miss Devon tomorrow.”
Timothy shrugged, his innocent expression failing to fool Nathaniel. “If the opportunity arises.”
“You are at times the best and worst of friends.”
Timothy came closer and slapped Nathaniel on the shoulder. “Cheer up. You can’t live like this again. I was there when she broke your heart. Give her this chance. Give yourself this chance. And if she’s not interested, you can finally move on with a clear conscience.”
Could he confess his feelings to her again? Did he have the courage to present his heart to her one last time, though she still had reason and every right to reject him?
He closed his eyes, remembering how she had agreed to his friendship in the conservatory, and how warm and right her hand had felt in his. He remembered how she’d reached for him as they stood in the entry hall, seeking comfort and reassurance when he could give none.
What if she felt the same?
“Very well. I will look for an opportunity to speak to Miss Devon.”
Could risk his heart for her again? Nathaniel had the feeling his happiness may depend upon it.
Chapter Nineteen
Julia’s morning left her emotions raw. As the family had expected the baron’s death, the boys already owned clothing appropriate for mourning. She entered the nursery to find Nurse Smyth patiently buttoning little black jackets over their gray breeches. They both wore skeleton suits the day before, the bottom halves of their clothing buttoned up high beneath their arms in bright blues and reds. But now they looked more like little gentlemen in short coats and breeches. A concession was made for their age only in their ruffled collars.
The solemnity of mourning, Virginia had told her weeks ago, would necessarily mature the children. She did not think it wrong to advance their wardrobe to what older boys would wear.
Their young faces above the white ruffles and black jackets made Julia’s heart ache for them. Did they understand that their dear Papa would not wake again?
“Come, boys. Your mother wishes to see you.” She reached out for their hands and each slipped theirs into hers with silent trust.
The whole house was silent, as if the very building itself mourned.
Virginia had risen earlier, asking for coffee and toast, as the sleeping tonic had left her with a headache. Her face had been ashen, her lips bloodless, but she did not cry. Not as she had the night before.
Julia’s long night in the baron’s chamber, door open and candles lit, had left her a great deal of time to think and knit. By the time the sun rose, she had reordered her life and decisions more than a dozen times, and not once to her satisfaction. She felt more muddled than ever, her exhaustion accented each and every emotion passing through her heart.
They entered the parlor where Virginia most often held court, and Julia watched as both boys offered their bows to their mother. Virginia nearly lost her composure and had to bite her bottom lip, meeting Julia’s eyes with a silent plea.
“Phillip, Edward, sit beside your mother on the sofa. I will go fetch some biscuits and milk.” She could only offer Virginia an encouraging smile, small though it was, and disappear to fetch the refreshment. She shut the door quietly behind her and rested her head against the frame.
Her life must change soon. She didn’t know how she would go forward. Lady Huntington would assist her in finding a position, she had no doubt, but what then? Did she know how to be a companion? What if she didn’t like her employer? She couldn’t leave. And if she became a governess, could she love a stranger’s children the way she had grown to love these? And ought she to love them when, without fail, they would grow up and leave her to find another position?
After telling herself to stop fretting, to be less selfish, Julia squared her shoulders and went down to the kitchens herself. She didn’t wish to send for a servant; she wanted to be around people, to feel less alone in the world.
The staff moved up and down the hallway leading to the kitchens, each bobbing courteously to her, all of them wearing black armbands as a sign of the household’s mourning.
“Mrs. Rainey,” Julia greeted the woman who was wiping her hands on a dish cloth. “Good morning. I was wondering if I might trouble you for some biscuits and milk?”
“For the lads? Of course, miss.” The cook nodded to a kitchen maid who jumped from her task of kneading bread and went into the pantry. Mrs. Rainey had always been a generous woman, keeping a good stock of treats for the children at hand. “How are they, miss?” she asked quietly, coming closer to Julia. “I know they’re hurtin’, but is there anything I might do to help ‘em?”
Julia clasped her hands before her and forced her emotions back. Any small show of sympathy was likely to undo her if she could not get hold of herself.
“I think you ought to pour your good thoughts into your cooking and baking, Mrs. Rainey. They will feel your care most in that way. And send up extra sweets for the boys, when you can.”
“Yes, miss.” Mrs. Rainey sighed and shook her head. “Do you know when we might be goin’ back to the country house?”
Mrs. Rainey was a permanent member of the Macon household, brought with them to Bath because the entire family adored her cooking.
“I am not certain any plans have been made in that regard. Have you a need to return home?” Julia asked as kindly as she could, noting the kitchen maid putting together a tray at another table.
“Not at all, miss. It’s only—and please, forgive my saying this—it’s only that I don’t think her ladyship ought to go back to that big, quiet house alone. It’s a pile of cold stone, as pretty as it is, and it’s no place for a person already thinking sad thoughts.”
Julia pursed her lips and regarded the cook thoughtfully. She had never been to the seat of the baron’s estate before, but she’d heard it described as a seventeenth century fortress, built by the first noble family member to show off his military might to the community during an uncertain religious upheaval. With that sort of description in her mind, she could not imagine the home to be a cheerful place.
“I think you must be right,” she said, studying the woman with appreciation. “I will consider what you’ve said, Mrs. Rainey. Perhaps
we can find an alternative solution for the family. I do not think they will wish to remain in Bath very long.”
“No, miss. But thank you for listening to me and my funny thoughts.”
“They’re very handy thoughts, actually.” Julia glanced to the tray. “Thank you for the refreshment. I’ll take it up myself.”
She had barely lifted the treats when Thurston entered the room, standing as stately as she’d ever seen him.
“Miss Devon, I am glad to have found you here. There is a situation which needs to be addressed and I did not think it wise to disturb the family.”
“No, of course not.” She put the tray back down on the table and cast an apologetic glance at the maid. “Would you please take this up to her ladyship’s parlor?”
“Yes, miss.” The maid dipped a curtsy as Julia followed Thurston from the room.
The older gentleman, who belonged to the townhouse, had always impressed her with his grave air and impeccable attention to detail. Virginia had confessed once she would try to steal him away if she didn’t already have a very capable butler in the country.
When they stepped into the upper hallway, Thurston stopped walking and turned to regard her with his austere eyes. “Miss Devon, the late baron’s brother has arrived. I have asked him to wait in the study, as that is the room he seems most fond of.”
Her stomach dropped and the air around her went cold. “Mr. Macon?”
“Yes, Miss.”
Of course, she’d known he would come this morning. Nathaniel had said he would send a note, though she hadn’t expected him to arrive with her as the only person to speak to him. But the idea of Virginia seeing him, in her current state, was terrible as well.
Julia knew it fell to her to deal with the man.
“Thank you, Thurston. It was right of you to leave the baroness undisturbed. Please, have the baron’s valet go wait in the family hallway. I may have need of him. But I’ll go in to Mr. Macon now.”
“Very good, miss.” Thurston bowed and, had he not moved with such determined dignity, she would’ve said he ran to find the valet. They would relieve the maid sitting outside the door.
Julia took a deep breath and turned to face the door to the study. Her tears and contemplation must end. She gazed into the mirror that hung in the hall and pinched her cheeks, willing some color into them. She could do nothing about the dark crescents beneath her eyes, but she could firm up the tired lines of her mouth.
As terrible a person as she thought Mr. Macon was, he had lost his brother. He would be in mourning. Perhaps the loss had even softened his heart. But it was her duty to be welcoming and understanding of him. It fell to her to take him to see his brother’s body upstairs.
She took a deep breath and opened the study door.
Gerard Macon stood inside, staring down at the fire in the hearth, his hands clasped behind him. He looked up when she entered, his movement slow, and stared at her without expression. Julia dropped a low curtsy, her eyes on the carpet, hoping she was showing enough respect to one who grieved.
“Mr. Macon. Please, accept my sympathy for your loss.”
“Your sympathy, Miss Devon?” His deep voice remained low, barely carrying to where she stood. “I am surprised. You are in my sister-in-law’s pocket, I know, and you can harbor no good feeling toward me.”
Her head came up and her lips parted allowing her gasp to escape. “Sir, you should not say such things. This house is in mourning. We are all of us sorrowing for the loss of your brother. I know you must be hurting—”
His short, bitter laugh cut her off. “Hurting? I have always been second best to my brother in everything. He is gone. That is an end of it. There is nothing to be said. I will pay my respects to him and I will honor his wish that I return him to be buried in the family graveyard. But there my duty to him ends.”
Julia snapped her mouth shut, aware it had fallen open again. “Very well. Please, follow me.” She didn’t wait to hear him utter another word and hastened from the room.
He caught up to her easily, his stride twice what hers must be when hindered by long skirts.
“Where is her ladyship?” he asked, tone barely respectful. “Taken by the vapors? Overcome by grief?”
Julia thought it best not to say anything about her cousin, but she peered at him over her shoulder with no small amount of disgust. “A house of mourning, sir.”
His dark eyes flicked their gaze away from her and to the top of the stairs, which she quickly climbed. The sooner she got him out of the house, the better.
The valet stood in the doorway to his former master’s room but stepped aside when Julia approached. As she entered, she saw Thurston standing at attention by the hearth, his sharp eyes forward, though she knew he would miss nothing that occurred before him. His show of solidarity with her, and with the family temporarily in his charge, warmed her heart and brought some confidence back to her countenance.
“Your late brother, sir.”
His body would be cleaned and dressed today, by a professionally hired undertaker and the valet. For now, he remained in his nightclothes, the blankets pulled up around him, appearing as if he only slept.
Julia did not fear death, nor did she fear the dead. Sitting in the room all night, while exhausting, had been peaceful. A good man had gone away from the world, but he had done all he could to make it a better place for those under his care. Sitting near his bed, in a plush chair, with her work and thoughts to keep her busy, Julia had almost felt grateful for the duty her cousin asked of her.
Mr. Macon approached the bed hesitantly, with some measure of reverence, and stood at its head for a long moment.
Julia exchanged a glance with Thurston. “Please see to it that Mr. Macon has what time he needs, then show him out,” she said quietly.
She left the room without looking back at the man who would cause more pain for her cousin, for she had no doubt that his plans remained unchanged.
She had only gone halfway down the hall towards the parlor, thinking she ought to return to see if Virginia had need of her, when she heard men’s voices drifting up from the entryway. With Mr. Macon, the butler, and the valet upstairs, she couldn’t imagine who could be disturbing the solemnity of the house.
She decided to see to the people responsible. Julia lifted her skirt and returned the way she’d come, descending the stairs with quick steps, in time to see the study door closed by a footman.
“John?” she asked, coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs. “Who is in there? We are not accepting visitors.”
“I know that, Miss Devon,” he said, his voice hushed in the echoing place. “But they came by the trade entrance and said they would wait. It’s that barrister, Mr. Olivier, and Doctor Hastings.”
At Nathaniel’s name, her heart leaped and carried her forward several hopeful steps until her mind sorted through the rest of what the footman had said. “Oh.” She stilled. “They must be here to see my cousin. Let me speak to them and you wait here in case we need to send for her.”
“Yes, miss.” He bowed and then opened the door for her.
This time when she walked into the room, two sets of eyes were upon her. Mr. Olivier had barely sat down, it appeared, and hurried back to his feet. Nathaniel was in the middle of the room with his arms folded across his chest.
She curtsied, they bowed, and then Mr. Olivier began talking. But her eyes remained caught by Nathaniel’s piercing blue gaze. His frown was not one of displeasure, but of serious study and concern. His eyes looked nowhere but into hers, questions swirling in their depths. His whole body leaned slightly towards her as if he wished to take a step in her direction. But his feet remained rooted to the spot where he stood.
“Miss Devon? Miss Devon?”
Julia turned to Mr. Olivier, realizing her inattention had been noticed but uncertain how long she’d been staring at Nathaniel.
“Pardon me, Mr. Olivier. I am afraid it’s been a difficult morning and I am not quite myself. W
hat were you saying?” Every joint in her body moved haltingly, like rusted hinges, and her muscles remained taut and tired. The day had only begun and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and sleep in some quiet corner.
Doubtless she’d been imagining Nathaniel’s compelling and expectant expression. She dared not glance at him again, or she might see his perplexity at being stared at in such a fervent manner.
“I asked if you thought it would be possible to meet with her ladyship. I know this is a difficult time, but I do not put it past her brother-in-law to let the matter lie until a proper amount of mourning time has passed.”
“He is actually here, right now. Mr. Macon is upstairs.” Julia knew she hadn’t really answered the question, but her mind remained heavy with fatigue. She cleared her throat and looked down, ordering her thoughts. “I think my cousin would meet with you. Please wait here, and I can put your request to her.”
“Thank you. We will wait as long as necessary.” Mr. Olivier bowed and Julia returned the courtesy.
She made it all the way to the door before she sneaked a glance at Nathaniel, glancing up barely long enough to meet his eyes, certain she would see nothing extraordinary.
The intensity of his stare, while not as great as it had been before, nearly arrested her. Concern filled his eyes, his jaw muscles remained tight, and his whole body bristled with pent-up emotion. Julia’s lips parted slightly and in her surprise she nearly spoke, but she recalled her duty and swiftly left the room, shutting the door behind her.
Her heart hammered against her chest and Julia tried to remember if she’d ever seen Nathaniel study her in such a manner before.
A footstep on the stair brought her attention upward. Mr. Macon descended, each footfall loud and intentional, but he only shot her one irritated glanced before making his way to the front door, which John swiftly opened and closed again upon him.
The Gentleman Physician: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 2) Page 18
