She stopped at home only to gather her bonnet. There she found her father standing in the living room, staring gloomily at all the objects that had yet to be put in trunks.
“My dear, I do not know how we are to be ready to leave tomorrow, for there is much to pack. Our departure was perhaps hasty, but we must not miss the congruence of the winds.”
One more night in Spa will not set the winds in a fuss, she thought, her face revealing none of these less-than-gracious thoughts. She corralled her exasperation and tucked it neatly into a vault inside of her heart to be dealt with later. “I will pack all night if I need to, but perhaps you might speak to Mrs. Mercy and set the servants to packing the items in this room? Many of them are your books, so they will not do so without your instructions. Our own trunks are packed, and I must go out.”
“I quite thought you would see to it,” he said, looking lost in the midst of stacks of books and personal effects.
A tendril of frustration leaked out. “I have something of great importance to attend to. I want to assist James in publicizing his thermal baths before I leave so he can earn a proper living from them.” She turned back to the door, giving the ribbons of her bonnet a tug.
“But why?” Mr. Bridwell insisted.
She whirled on him. “Because I want to marry him, and he cannot afford to marry me without anything to live on.” After seeing the astonished expression on her father’s face, she relaxedher shoulders and forced herself to speak more calmly. “James and I have decided to continue our correspondence after we leave Spa. I thought you should know.” She was unsurprised when he made no reply. His expertise on the natural philosophies had not illuminated him on matters of the heart.
Her hand was on the doorknob when she heard him say, “I shall speak to Mrs. Mercy.”
Chapter 24
The day announced itself warm, even for June, even for the crack of dawn, and nature was beginning to hum with life. James, on the contrary, was cast down, for he had not succeeded in seeing Amy the day before. Despite that this was the day of the Bridwells’ departure, he had no choice but to follow his morning ritual. Doing so was essential to publicizing his baths. He first went to drink the Groesbeek water just steps away from the Sauvenière source. After that, he would ride over to see his patients at the thermal baths.
At the Sauvenière, two Irishmen with whom he had a nodding acquaintance went to greet a third, ignoring James as they brought the news.
“MacFirbis has been ruined!”
Consumed as his mind was by the dwindling hours before Amy would leave Spa, it took a minute for the meaning of the overheard statement to make sense. James pivoted toward Ryan O’Keefe, the man who had spoken and who also frequented the gaming tables, then looked away. He did not wish to appear as though he were eavesdropping, but O’Keefe seemed to have little concern for who heard him. On the contrary, he appeared eager to be the bearer of shocking news.
“He lost everything to Gruber. His entire fortune—gone in one night.”
The companion whistled through his teeth, seemingly more thrilled by the gossip than disturbed by the misfortune of its victim. “Keeping to his rooms, is he?”
“Not so. Gone. His servant went to bring him coffee this morning, and his portmanteau had vanished, along with him.”
“What? And Gruber?”
MacFirbis ruined and gone?How would Isabel fare with such news? If MacFirbis had indeed left without her, she would have the miserable luck of being associated with two failed betrothals in the space of one week. That would not help the reputation she had claimed to be so concerned about. James could still find it in him to feel sorry for her, though. This second broken engagement was not her fault.
“Gruber is gone too. He left before the first light. Had to. Everyone suspected he was a Captain Sharp, and the fact that he fled town proves it—or nearly does. He won’t be able to show his face anywhere on the Continent now.”
The friend whistled again, and James fixed his gaze on the hedge behind the Groesbeek source as he drained the rest of his water. He was truly sorry for MacFirbis. He had been taken in by a master of the trade and with disastrous results. Even if the man hadn’t exactly worked to make himself agreeable to James, he did not deserve to lose everything. James hoped that part wasn’t entirely true and that he had some means of keeping his estate, even if it meant living frugally for the rest of his life.
He handed his cup to a servant, now ready to ride over to the Tonnelet. It would be his last time assisting Amy’s father for his therapeutic bath.
Yesterday, Mr. Bridwell confided that the family was to leave for Liège midafternoon as a first stop on their journey to Paris. Despite James’s unchecked behavior in kissing Amy without making a binding promise, he had attempted another visit. He wouldnot let her suffer any doubt about his constancy after they separated. When he arrived, however, her sister told him that Amy was visiting the princess. Hannah had seemed sympathetic to his plight but said that as it was Amy’s last visit there, she could not be certain when she would return.
To James’s relief, a messenger arrived that afternoon with a letter from Amy that made him smile and brought much-needed reassurance. In it, she listed the directions of their planned stops in Paris and Rome with a note that she did not yet have one for Aix-en-Provence but would write as soon as she knew of it and their planned dates there. She added that the family would be at the Promenade that night, where she hoped to see him. He had looked everywhere for her but finally had to accept the fact that the Bridwells had not come, and the hour had passed for him to call upon them in their rooms.
With a heavy feeling that was as much from Amy’s imminent departure as it was from his gnawing worry about earning a living, James turned to leave. He was at the stairs leading up to where his horse stood when someone called to him from inside the pavilion. He turned, and Monsieur Necker, the Parisian, stepped out of it and strode forward. “Mr. Fletcher, I beg you will wait a moment.”
Monsieur Necker was a more distinguished member of Spa’s society. Although he had no ties to nobility, his reputation for leadership preceded him. As a banker and a political economist, his influence was great both in the court and with the bourgeois.
James bowed. “Monsieur Necker, I am at your service.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve learned that you have opened thermal baths at Le Tonnelet, and I am interested in trying them for myself.” He smiled, softening the austerity found in his usual mien. “I have never attempted the bathing, but I am hearing good reports of its effectiveness.”
James was alive with curiosity. Who had brought the news of his baths to Monsieur Necker’s ears? This could be the makingof the Tonnelet. If Monsieur Necker found his baths beneficial, his patronage was sure to attract others.
“It will depend on your ailment, Monsieur,” he answered as soon as he found his voice. “At the very least, it should provide you with an energizing experience. You will feel as new. Shall we meet this afternoon to discuss which prescription most suits you?” He could schedule the appointment after Amy left. Perhaps it would soften the blow of her departure.
“I am quite taken today with the preparations for Waux-Hall, but tomorrow should suit me fine.”
