Chapter 20 #2
“Precisely.” James knew his chance was now or never, and he glanced at Amy, heartened by the familiar glimpse of humor he saw in her eyes.
“I do think that in your condition, you will need to have the waters warmed in order for bathing to be of benefit. That is something my baths can do. You will not have to suffer the frigid waters of the running creek, and you will have more privacy than the H?tel Waldeck offers.”
Mr. Bridwell rubbed his chin and, after a moment’s reflection, said, “Perhaps I might try a warm bath. At least once before we leave.”
James leaned forward, unable to conceal his eagerness.
“Mr. Bridwell, I would in no way dissuade you from leaving Spa next week or taking any steps you think important to your health. However, I would like to propose that you try a cure of taking a warm bath at the Tonnelet each of the six days that remain to you. If you see no improvement, you will of course continue on to Paris or Aix, or wherever else you have in mind, as you had planned.”
He could see that Mr. Bridwell was considering his idea, so he pressed on. “From my experience, which is not negligible, these regular baths in the chalybeate waters could be what you need. You may even find that a stay in Spa is worth your while for a few weeks more.”
“How long must I sit in the water?” Mr. Bridwell asked.
“I recommend a half hour,” James said, leaning back. He had done it. Mr. Bridwell was convinced. “You will need a shift for the bathing and an easy outfit to change into when you are finished. There are private areas to change, and a servant will be there to assist you.”
Mr. Bridwell frowned, his remaining objections falling in front of James’s eyes. “Mr. Hughes did not recommend it.”
James almost smiled. “Mr. Hughes and I do not always see eye to eye on medical issues, but I am not alone in my belief that the baths will greatly improve rheumatic complaint. Mr. Vroomen is a longtime physician of Spa, and he has fully supported me from the beginning. I will give you a copy of my paper on the subject, if you would like.” Mr. Bridwell might be persuaded by something of a scholarly nature.
“Yes, send that to me.” After another minute’s consideration, he slapped the armrest of his chair. “Well, I suppose I might try something new, since nothing else has worked.”
“Good.” James smiled in earnest now, especially when he saw Amy’s look of relief.
Mr. Bridwell’s enthusiasm quickly fell, and he peered at James with suspicion. “I do not need to go at five in the morning, do I?”
James shook his head. “No, but I do suggest that you have your therapeutic bath before taking breakfast at ten. You are more likely to derive a benefit that way, and it will leave the rest of your day free for other pursuits.”
This recommendation was just the thing to please Mr. Bridwell, and his usual buoyant mood seemed to return.
He spent the rest of their time together sharing his perspective on Bonnet’s La Palingénésie philosophique, which he had just finished reading.
Fortunately, James had already discussed the book with Morry and could give his opinion on which metaphors accurately described the evolution of life and which fell short.
He was therefore able to acquit himself well in the eyes of Mr. Bridwell, and even earned the praise of appearing to be an intelligent fellow.
At the end of the visit, Amy walked him to the door, where they paused and stared at each other in silence.
“I hope it might work,” she said softly.
“I hope so too,” he replied in an equally subdued voice.
They were working together toward the same goal, and it brought James a wind of poignant nostalgia.
The manner between them was as it once had been.
But Time was swiftly marching them out of each other’s lives once again, and this time it would be permanent.
James returned to his inn with the sensation of having lived two days in one. As he entered his rooms, he glanced at his pocket watch and saw that it was only six o’clock. A pile of correspondence had been left for him on the side table in the entryway, and he went to sift through the letters.
None of them looked to be good news. The letter from his father did not likely carry cheerful tidings, for his father never wrote with no set purpose or to ask James for his news.
When he did write, it was usually to tell him of something unpleasant in nature.
The rest were all bills, which caused James’s throat to tighten.
He had been dreading these, as he was not sure he would be able to pay them all.
And they had all arrived at once. It would help to have Mr. Vroomen’s patients to treat for the time he and his wife would be away.
He sat on the solitary armchair in his room and slit open the bills first. One required twenty florins for his seasonal subscription to the comedy, which he had been foolish enough to pledge, thinking it a good way to meet the people he hoped to serve as physician.
His new pair of gloves that he had pretended to leave at Annette and Lubin’s were a florin and ten patars.
The horse rentals were each another florin, and he had been renting one almost daily.
Even though he had reduced his meals at La Redoute, he was still spending more than he had.
James set the bills on the table, a sick feeling in his stomach.
The modest sum gained from returning the sapphire pin would probably meet his obligations for this month, but it would not help him with the future ones.
His only hope was that the baths would become more of an instant success than he dared to expect.
When he had opened all of the other bills, he finally broke the seal on his father’s letter. It was dated the eighteenth of May.
James, it began.
I thought it best as your father that I be the one to break the news that your great-aunt Mary has given up her earthly home at last. It came as a surprise to all of us, and I am sure it must to you, as well. We all thought she would hang on to life for much longer.
As you may know, your brother has taken pains to visit her in her last days, which pleased her and caused her to look upon his situation more favorably.
I did warn you that she was no more approving of your pursuing a career as a physician than I was.
To cut matters short, she has changed her will and has made Adam the heir—
James broke off reading with an oath.
—despite the fact that he is already next in line for the Fletcher fortune, and you know what she thought of me.
This may come as a shock to you, for we none of us thought that you would be disinherited.
She has always remained quite firm on the matter.
However, given the fact that you have made your life on the Continent and have chosen to pursue a profession rather than to marry well and carry on the life of a gentleman—
James’s fingers tightened on the letter. A gentleman remained such even if he took on a respectable profession. But his father had always been single-minded in his focus of raising the Fletcher name in prestige. Nothing would do but for James to become a landowner and preferably marry an heiress.
I suppose it makes more sense for Adam to be the recipient of the sum, the letter continued. He will be able to do great things for the Fletcher name. Your mother sends her greetings. Yours, etc. Fletcher.
James threw the letter down and allowed himself one fulminating moment before attempting to control his rage.
Adam had deliberately set out to win their great-aunt’s favor so he might benefit from the money.
It was not to make an old woman’s last days pleasurable.
Yet, James hoped that she had been made happy by the attention, even if it had been deceitfully offered.
It was that which angered him—that he could be related to a family of such greed. He could not understand it.
He glanced at the pile of bills on the table.
How was he to pay those now? It was not as though he had been expecting the inheritance this week or even this year, but knowing it would come one day had always relieved a certain pressure, reminding him that no matter what happened, he would come about.
Now, he had truly been stripped bare. He had nothing to his name.