James answered stiffly, “She folded the letter and placed it somewhere where I could not retrieve it.”
This piece of information had the opposite effect he had hoped for. Mr. Prexley studied him in a speculative way, much like his daughter often did, then appeared to relax. He shrugged.
“It seems we have little to discuss, then. There is no proof of any wrongdoing on my daughter’s part, at least not that I have seen with my own eyes, and therefore I do not absolve you of your responsibility.” Mr. Prexley spoke lightly, but his words were no less ominous. “And if you think to cry off, you may be sure I will sue you for libel for smearing my daughter’s name. You will not have a single patient left to you in all of Spa.”
James brought an astonished gaze to him. This was one outcome he had not imagined—that Mr. Prexley would not let him go.
But was not his current predicament due entirely to his own foolishness? He had been so eager to win Isabel’s hand, he had shown Mr. Prexley a copy of the testament that named him as his great-aunt’s heir. The Prexleys had accepted his suit based on that one fact alone, and Mr. Prexley was now bent on keeping him solely because of the inheritance he was to receive.
The future sealed him into a crypt where there was no light. If Mr. Prexley had his way, James would be forced into a loveless marriage. How would he come about? He could leave Spa had he not invested so much in his baths, but he had put his entire fortune there. Besides, the city of Spa had become home to him.
“You do realize that I am in possession of a mere expectation, Mr. Prexley? I have a copy of my great-aunt’s will, but at any time, she might change it.” He hid his desperation with a calm tone and attempted a different tactic. “Have you not considered that you might do better in the way of sons-in-law?”
“I have.” Mr. Prexley reached for his snuffbox and flicked it open before taking a pinch. “However, I chose you for your handsome settlement that seems more than likely to come into your possession. Besides, I am of the mind that Isabel should marry soon, and I have no wish to draw out the process in having her established.”
James did not return an answer, and Mr. Prexley glanced at him. “If you were thinking of MacFirbis—yes, he has an independence that would be attractive indeed had your offer not come along. But his is nothing compared to the kind of life she might have married to you and would certainly have none of the other provisos you agreed to in the contract.”
James could only berate himself again for having been so foolish as to play his hand openly with the Prexleys. All because he was so keen to have Mr. Prexley’s patientsnowand worry about his expectation later.
Mr. Prexley crossed one leg over the other and reached for his wine. He sipped it and set the glass down with careful deliberation. “Therefore, as I have said, I do not absolve you of your promise.”
It required only a stunned moment of comprehension before James stood. “I shall not trouble you further, sir. I will take leave of you now.” He bowed and moved toward the door, realizing too late his lapse in etiquette, for he would be opening the door to another gentleman’s house. A tinkling bell sounded from behind him where Mr. Prexley sat, and the library door opened.
“Show Mr. Fletcher out. Our visit is at an end.”
James gathered his hat and cane and stepped outside of the Prexleys’ house. He walked a short distance before his stepsslowed, and he was overtaken with a sense of bleakness he had not known since the day he watched Amy’s betrothal unfold before his eyes. Circumstances had brought her into his life once again, but he was thwarted in his ability to pursue her. It seemed the cruelest twist of fate that they should reunite only to have all possibility of marrying at long last crumble before their eyes.
After spending more time than usual in his rooms, attempting to see a way out of his predicament, James decided to go out. He had every reason to be unhappy, but it did him no good to sulk indoors. The best thing would be to saddle up and see how his baths at the Tonnelet were progressing. He would be ready to open the doors to the public soon if everything went according to plan. There was only the matter of adjusting the temperature in the hottest bath to make sure it would not scald his patients.
If there was any glimmer of hope to be had in all that was miserable, it was the fact that with time these curative baths might become the making of him. He did not expect immediate success, which was why he needed to find patients, though the two were inextricably linked. But besides a potentially steady income, there was also satisfaction in knowing that his project would offer healthful benefits to those in search of healing.Not everything is entirely hopeless, he reminded himself.
He was about to turn in the direction of the stables when he was caught by Morry headed in his direction. His gait did seem improved from applying Mr. Vroomen’s instructions to take exercise, although it was clear he was still afflicted by his wound.
“I was coming to see you,” his friend called out when he spied James. “Give me the pleasure of your company for a bit, would you?”
James could see that there was something on Morry’s mind and abandoned his plans. He would not ignore a friend if he could be of use. “Certainly. Where are you going?”
“I thought we might stop in at La Redoute. Perhaps have a cup of coffee.”
James turned to walk alongside him, removing his hat to bow as Monsieur and Madame Necker crossed their path and continued on.
“I wished to speak to you about Miss Bainesworth.” Having got that out, Morry fell silent for a long moment, and James didn’t try to break it. He guessed the direction of his friend’s thoughts.
“I noticed when I sat with her at Annette and Lubin’s that she did not seem to eat very much. In fact, I am almost certain I saw her put nothing more than a strawberry in her mouth.”Ah.That was not what James had expected. Morry turned to meet his gaze. “Have you noticed that she is painfully thin? Her collarbones look as though they might break. It makes me unhappy to see it.”
It was not the matter of Morry’s heart that James had anticipated, but rather a subject he could not ethically comment on, not even objectively. He was silent for too long, so Morry prodded him.
“Do you not see what I see? I don’t believe it’s owing to her having a naturally slender frame. I fear she is not eating enough. Perhaps you might guide me from a medical point of view, or speak to her yourself?” He asked the latter in a hopeful tone but without any real conviction.
James shook his head with a smile while he racked his mind for the most judicious way to respond. “I have observed her thin frame, although I have not been with her when she was at the table, so I cannot comment on her dining habits.” That much was true enough. “She does not look to me as though she has consumption, if that is what is worrying you.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Morry admitted. “Thank heavens for it. It is rather that I fear she does not eat enough to sustain her.”
“If you have as much fondness for her as I think you do, I believe you will be in the best position to speak to her on the matter. Why do you not do it?”
Morry mused on this, his cane accompanying every step. “It would be presumptuous of me,” he said at last, his words coming reluctantly. “I am not her equal, and I cannot aspire to winning her hand. To speak about such personal matters can only be seen as encroaching coming from me. I thought that you, as a doctor...”
“It would be encroaching for me to offer medical advice for a condition she has not sought to consult me on.” James comforted himself with the thought that she had actually consulted Mr. Vroomen. He had just accompanied him on the visit.
