Chapter 18 #2
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.
They reached the entrance to La Redoute, and a footman opened the door to allow them to enter.
Sounds of conversation and a burst of gentlemen’s laughter greeted them from the tobacco room, and the clink of balls in the billiard room announced that a game was in progress.
In the covered courtyard at the back, musicians played for the guests sitting at the tables there.
Their conversation was naturally forced to a halt while they greeted their acquaintances in the main hall and stopped at the entrance to the cardroom. James peered in at the crowd congregated around the faro table just as MacFirbis crowed in victory. The dealer pushed the bankroll toward him.
“Send my servant to me,” he said laughingly. “I will not be able to carry all of this.”
“You have all the luck,” Gruber cried out, clasping him on the shoulder. “I knew you would win if you carried on a little longer.”
James had no desire to see more of it, and after a glance at Morry, they left for the dining room, where coffee was being served.
“MacFirbis seems to take increasingly to the gaming tables of late,” Morry observed.
“And Gruber always at his side,” James added. “Have you heard anything further of his reputation?”
Morry shook his head. “But then, I am not always the most connected.”
“And I not at all.”
After they were seated and the servant had brought them brandy, coffee, and a selection of cakes, James placed his hat on the chair next to him.
He looked at his friend steadily before coming to the issue that was at the root of it all.
“I beg to disagree with you that you cannot aspire to Miss Bainesworth’s hand.
I suspect she would not agree with you either. ”
The faint flush that spread up Morry’s neck was the only sign that his remark had hit home. “You are biased by friendship.”
James eyed the cakes and chose one. “Perhaps. But even examining the matter from an objective point of view, you are a gentleman. You can support a wife from your military earnings, even without your uncle’s inheritance.
Miss Bainesworth does not strike me as a woman who aspires to marry for rank or a greater fortune than what you can give her.
It seems to me that she wishes only to be comfortable and to be with someone who will but consider her wishes.
There is no one better than you for such a role. ”
“But I am lame,” Morry said bitterly. “I don’t think I will ever regain the full use of my leg. I am not sure I will ever dance again. I still walk like a cripple, no matter how often I traipse up and down the streets of Spa. Can you contradict me?”
James could not. He had suspected the injury would be difficult, if not impossible, to heal completely once he had learned the details of it. However, he did believe Morry could regain a portion of his lost mobility with time and exercise.
“As to your dancing again, I cannot say with any surety. But you do not need to dance in order to woo a woman. The use of your arms will suffice.”
Morry gave a painful smile but no response.
“Just speak to her about your concerns and start from there,” James advised. “Afterward, you can see where the conversation leads.”
“Perhaps I will do so,” Morry said, his reluctance obvious.
“If she confides in you, I would take that as proof that you have advanced a fair way to winning her heart. Besides,” James reminded him, “she cannot court you, so you are better off speaking your heart and being rejected than saying nothing and spending the rest of your life regretting your silence—and very likely causing her to do the same.”
Morry nodded, then pointedly turned the conversation to other things.
That evening, James followed the streams of people into the Promenade de Sept-Heures with the intention of listening to the orchestra that was to play there for the first time that season.
He heard the oboes and violins warming up, and before he had reached the center, they began their first lively piece.
Some of the younger members of society took that as a cue to gather in an informal circle and begin dancing.
Isabel spotted him and came directly to his side.
If she felt any hesitation about her reception, she masked it under her smile.
“James, are you alone? Shall we not dance together? Is this not the most delightful thing, and in such agreeable weather? I have so been longing for the season to truly begin.”
James forced himself to speak civilly. “I am not of a mind to dance now. You must excuse me. You are sure to have many others soliciting your hand.”
Isabel studied him with a frown. “I hope you are not going to continue being so disagreeable. All over a stupid letter.”
James returned no response. He was too angry and heartsore to say anything benign and would not betray himself by speaking his mind.
“How can I help it if someone writes me a letter? It does not mean that I share the man’s sentiment. And yet you are punishing me for it.”
He shot her a look. At least she had admitted the letter was hers. He wondered if she realized she had done so. A thought occurred to him.