Page 45 of The Gentleman Physician

“Very well. I’ll tell you what I believe happens in Heaven. Will that do?”

“Yes,” Phillip said. Edward nodded and held his hand out to her, allowing her to see his handsome little face again. Julia took it up in her hand and began her story, uncertain as to how doctrinally sound it might be. But it was happy and the boys listened quietly.

Before long, both Phillip and Edward were asleep, their breathing deep and soft.

What would it be like, to see one’s eyes in those of a child? To have a boy who looked like his father charging across lawns and sliding down banisters? Or a little girl, perhaps, with fair hair and blue eyes?

Neither Charles nor Virginia had blue eyes. Julia was not thinking of what a daughter of theirs would look like. She was thinking of Nathaniel’s engaging smile, his fair hair, and his incredible eyes, as features passed on to a child.

“You ought to go see to her ladyship,” the nurse said. “I will bring my bed in here, I think, and sleep near the young masters.”

“Let me help you.” Julia rose from Edward’s bed and followed Nurse Smyth into her adjoining bedroom. The two of them lifted her feather tick and pulled it into the nursery.

A quiet rap on the door brought their eyes up to see Emily standing there.

“I apologize, Miss Devon,” she whispered. “But with all the goings on, I wondered what I might do? You won’t be needing help preparing for bed?”

Julia had the feeling she would not be able to sleep even if granted the opportunity. “Not tonight, Emily. But could you perhaps see about some tea?”

The young maid nodded and bobbed a curtsy before vanishing from the door.

The night had only just begun and Julia already longed for morning.

∞ ∞ ∞

Baron Heatherton’s death was not the first Nathaniel had witnessed, nor would it be the last. He remembered every patient he’d observed who had crossed the threshold from this world to the next.

Not long after Nathaniel arrived, the baron asked his wife, “Where is Gerard? Isn’t Gerry here?”

To her everlasting credit, Lady Heatherton answered without worry or malice. “I am sorry, Charles. He is not in the house. Shall I send for him?”

Nathaniel knew she would’ve too, but her husband shook his head.

“I have you. You are all I need.” He held her hand on top of the bed covers.

Sometimes, this close to the veil that separated life and death, patients knew when their time had come. Nathaniel had seen one man grow angry and rage at his loved ones. He’d seen another cry, child-like, saying he was not ready to leave. But Charles Macon did neither of these things. He simply gazed at his wife who kneeled beside the bed, as though not another soul mattered, his breaths weaker and weaker, his eyes bright.

“I love you, Charles.”

They were the last words the man heard as two tears escaped him and he let out one last, soft breath. His chest stilled and the room with it.

The baroness gasped and held his hand tighter, in both of hers. She didn’t so much as glance away from his face. “Doctor?” she whispered hoarsely. “Doctor?”

Nathaniel moved to stand at the head of the bed and reached to check the baron’s pulse, but he already knew what his pronouncement would be. He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece and saw the valet standing near, waiting.

“He is gone, my lady. His suffering has ended.”

Nathaniel could not meet her eyes immediately. Not in the face of her raw pain. He heard her sob, and then her cries were muffled when she lowered her face into the bedding. The valet moved tensely, face pale and eyes glazed over, to stop the clock. It was a quarter till eleven. The darkest hours of night were yet to come.

“Inform Thurston,” Nathaniel said calmly, and the footman swiftly went to find the butler.

Nathaniel gathered his bag and went to the door, stepping outside to give her ladyship privacy. He stood in the hall, dropping his medical bag on a table, then gave in to his own weariness and leaned back against the wall. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

Somewhere in the house, he heard quiet footsteps as servants went about their business. Muffled voices spoke in whispers. The household would go into mourning. There would be no social calls. A wreath would hang on the door, signifying to all the world that a loved one had been lost. The women in the household only had each other, and they were both very young.

It didn’t help matters that Mr. Heatherton would threaten their peace with his demands for guardianship of the children. The man had no heart and Nathaniel had no respect for him. He wished he could do something to help, but other than the statement he gave Timothy, he was powerless.

He couldn’t save the baron or aid the baroness in her battle to come. A physician was next to worthless in a case like this.