Page 7 of The Gentleman Physician

“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 doe.

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.