James bowed. In everything else, it had slipped his mind that Waux-Hall was to open that evening with a grand ball. “Ah yes, of course. I will come and seek you in your rooms tomorrow, then. Good day, monsieur.”
He went up the stone steps and at the top of the hill spotted his rented mare nibbling on the wildflowers. Insects buzzed in the heat, announcing that summer was upon them. When he had ridden by the creek on his way up, its rushing current was swollen with the recent rains. Usually, his spirits lifted in the warmer months when everything was alive; but today, in spite of his luck with Monsieur Necker, it was difficult to find joy. If only Amy did not have to leave, or he could offer for her sooner than he had initially determined. He pictured himself surprising her by showing up in Paris with the news that his income was steady and he could marry her without delay.
A small crowd waited for him at the Tonnelet—a heartening development, and a first. When he inquired of one gentleman how he had learned of the baths, he was told it had been from Morry. The two behind him cited Mr. Vroomen as their source. Mr. Rosemund was last in line and said that rather than wait for a bath to be available, he did not mind bathing in the outdoor pool, for he deemed the weather warm enough. After listening briefly to the newer gentlemen’s complaints, James indicated for the servants to show them to the area where they might change into their shifts.
Another surprise awaited James inside, for he heard female voices through the door that separated the partitions in the bathing structure. With the gentlemen properly in the hands of waiting servants, James moved to the connecting door to see which intrepid female was to be the first to try his baths. A vision of Amy waiting for him on the other side flashed through his mind and caused him to make a wry face. She would not be afraid to try them after they were married, he suspected, but she would be too modest to attempt it as a maiden. And she was more than likely caught up with packing their remaining items.
When he opened the door, his gaze fell on the Princess Orlova, flanked by one of her friends and her maid. Surprise stole his voice for a moment, and he halted on the threshold. It appeared Monsieur Necker would not be his most notable patient. At the last minute, James remembered the name the princess was traveling under.
“Madame Michalkoff, it is an honor to have you try the baths. Is this your first experience bathing?”
“Yes. Miss Bridwell speak of healing effect. I myself would like try them. I have come to Spa recover from fatigue.”
It was a small beat before James could reply. Amy had told the princess of his baths and lauded their virtues? She had certainly known that in encouraging the princess to try them, she would be giving him the greatest help to launch his project and thereby his profession. Had she done this after he had unwisely kissed her? Perhaps even yesterday while she was visiting the princess at the time he had attempted to see her. The kindness of the gesture came to him like a precious gift.
James halted this pleasurable train of thought and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. “The bath will certainly help restore you, ma’am.”
He went on to explain why the water’s properties were so potent, gesturing for one of his paid servants to help her into her bathing costume behind the protective screen. He was glad thathe had gone the extra step in creating a separate bathing unit for women. Only the more adventurous ones might try it at first, but the investment would eventually give a return. Perhaps his path to prosperity would not take as long as he had feared.
It was only when he left the Tonnelet—after having received two more clients wishing to try the baths—that it occurred to him that Mr. Bridwell had not come. He had to assume it was because he was too busy preparing for their departure, but it quickened his steps in his haste to see Amy.
When he reached his rooms, he quickly changed his clothes and ate a light repast, determined to have a private moment with her before she left, as lengthy as she could afford to give him. The closer her departure loomed, the more he dreaded it. Perhaps he could propose to her now after all....
He remembered the necklace he had bought all those years ago that he thought would be perfect for her, although it was the veriest trinket. He could picture tying it around her neck, his fingers grazing her soft skin, her lips curled up in pleasure.
No. He must not do that. He must not lock her into any sort of promise until he had secured his fortune and could support a wife. It would be a dastardly thing to do.
James was on the point of going to visit Amy when he received a message from Mr. Vroomen requesting that he come. There was a new patient he wished to hand over to James who required urgent consultation.
He needed to go—needed this patient and the additional revenue that would come with them. Although James fretted at the delay, he comforted himself with the knowledge that Mr. Bridwell had stated they’d depart midafternoon, and it was only half past twelve. Besides, based on his brief glimpse of the parlor the day before, it was evident the family still had much to pack. They were not likely to leave in the next hour, and he would not stay above that.
“Fletcher, please have a seat,” Mr. Vroomen said when he was shown in. “I will give you the name and direction of Mrs. Morewellmomentarily. Although I stated that it was urgent, the visit can be made over the course of the afternoon. She likely has dropsy, so you will need to bring diuretics.”
“I will do so.” James sat as invited, hiding his impatience out of respect for his mentor.
Mrs. Vroomen stood to serve them, hobbling over to the sideboard, where some tea and fortified wines had been set out, but Mr. Vroomen stopped her.
“No, Martha. I wish you will go to your room and rest. I will set out the tea.”
She met his stern look with a guilty smile that made her look younger than her years. “Oh, but I am quite all right now.”
“Mrs. Vroomen,” James said, smiling despite his preoccupation, “I would not have you twist your ankle again waiting on me.”
“Oh, very well,” she replied. James could hear the humor in her voice as Mr. Vroomen assisted her to the other room.
On his return, he brought two cups and saucers to the table. The sight of these preparations for tea made James gulp at the precious loss of time, but he could not bring himself to rush Mr. Vroomen.
“Miss Bainesworth is to be married,” his mentor said, sitting down.
“So you know it, then. Morry is a very good friend of mine. I am glad for them both.”
Mr. Vroomen returned no answer as he checked the strength of the tea, but as he looked at James, there was a smile in his eyes. He poured the tea and set the teapot down with a questioning look. “Do you take milk?”
James shook his head. “No, sugar only, if you please.” He took the sugar bowl from Mr. Vroomen and stirred some into his cup, batting down his rising impatience once again. The tea was fragrant and sweet, and he drank it quickly. “I had more curists come today to try the baths. I believe some of them are owing to you, and I wished to thank you for it.”
Mr. Vroomen looked pleased. “Yes, I have been encouraging those of my patients who might benefit from the baths to attempt it. I am glad to assist. After all, I persuaded you to come to Spa, and I know it has not been as easy as either of us thought to build your list of patients, especially with other new physicians arriving at the same time.”
“It has not been,” James agreed. Perhaps it was the connection they had shared through their mentoring relationship, or the talk of Morry and Miss Bainesworth’s betrothal, but James knew an unusual desire to confide in his mentor.
