Chapter 27
It felt strange, being back in his office after six weeks spent in ships’ cabins and sleeping rough in a shieling.
Nathaniel opened the windows, hoping to air out the musty smell that had accumulated in his absence, but it only helped so much.
He suspected his notion of what constituted “fresh air” had been permanently altered by his time on Lewis.
He had just settled in at his desk to begin organizing his notes when someone rapped on his doorframe. Nat looked up and found Andrew Thompson standing in the doorway.
“Andrew.” Nat rose. “Good morning.”
Andrew inclined his head. “Good morning. How was your trip?”
“Excellent. Productive.” Nat gestured to his open notebook. “We found the eagles. We were able to observe a nesting pair at close range.”
Andrew’s eyebrows rose appreciatively. “Did any chicks hatch while you were there?”
“Three. We were present when two of them emerged from their shells.”
Andrew grinned broadly. “That’s brilliant. I can’t wait to read your full report.”
“Thanks. I should have a paper ready in a month or two. Thank you for covering my lectures while I was gone. I hope Colin, Arthur, and Roderick didn’t give you too much trouble.”
Andrew waved a hand. “It was no trouble.” He cracked a grin. “At least, Colin and Arthur weren’t.”
Nat groaned. “Roderick can be a handful. I owe you a drink. Several, I’m sure.”
“You don’t owe me anything, but I’d like to go for a drink.”
“Name the day.”
Andrew inclined his head. An awkward silence ensued. Nat couldn’t help but notice a stiffness to Andrew’s posture. After waiting another beat, Nathaniel asked, “Is there anything that’s… troubling you?”
A pained expression swept across Andrew’s face. “I’ll just come out and say it. It’s about the Natural History Chair.”
A roaring filled Nathaniel’s ears. He knew what Andrew was about to say—that he had been appointed to the post in Nathaniel’s absence. Which meant there was no job, no promotion, no way he could support Kate…
Kate. His heart was suddenly racing. What was he going to do now?
He’d compromised her! He’d done worse than compromising her, he’d been making love to her for the last three weeks without taking the slightest precautionary measures.
She could be carrying his child, and here he was with no job, no prospects, no plan!
This was precisely why his parents had wanted him to study medicine. Here he was, twenty-seven years old, without any hope of steady employment.
He was a failure. A complete and utter failure, and—
“Nathaniel? Nathaniel, are you all right?”
Nat shook himself. Andrew was still standing in his doorway. Even though the world was crashing down around him, he was determined to be gracious. “Congratulations,” he said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. “You’ll be a great asset to the university.”
Andrew laughed. “I didn’t get it! Neither of us is going to get it.”
Nat frowned. “They’ve brought in an outside candidate, then?”
Andrew dropped his voice low. “There is no position. Professor Kerr isn’t resigning after all.
Apparently, he does this every few years—makes sounds about stepping down and retiring to his little cottage in Dingwall.
He’s not insincere. He really would like to do it.
But from what I hear, his wife has expensive tastes, and she doesn’t fancy the thought of scraping by on a meager pension, or of a quiet country life in Dingwall.
And she always badgers him into staying on. ”
Nathaniel slumped back in his chair. “So, there is no job.”
“There is no job,” Andrew agreed. “I thought I ought to let you know. I wouldn’t want you to find out when twenty people were looking on. I’m sure you’ve had your hopes up.” He laughed darkly. “I had my hopes up, too.” His eyes were sympathetic. “I know exactly how you feel.”
That likely wasn’t true. Nat doubted that Andrew was facing the prospect of telling the woman he loved, the woman who had risked everything by giving herself to him, that he had absolutely no prospects of being able to support her.
But he appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless.
“Thank you. It was good of you to take the time to tell me.”
Andrew nodded, already halfway out the door. “I’ll see you around, then.”
Nat raised a hand. “See you around.”
He waited until the sound of Andrew’s footsteps had faded, then stood. In three quick strides, he had his door closed, then locked.
He sank back into his chair, burying his head in his hands.
What on earth was he going to do? Back on Lewis, in those heady days of discovering that “Kit” was Kate and they could be together, it had felt so much like fate that he hadn’t considered an outcome other than everything working out.
He would get the professorship, they would marry, and then they would live happily ever after.
Alas, life was rarely that accommodating. He felt like such an idiot for not considering the possibility that he might not get the job. But here he was, and now he needed to figure out what to do.
If Kate was pregnant, he would marry her. Obviously. He would have to give up his fellowship, as it required the holder to remain unmarried. This would mean leaving the university—a bleak thought, but abandoning Kate was not an option.
Of course, they could survive thanks to her dowry, but that wouldn’t do in the long term.
He needed to secure some sort of employment.
Of course, his first choice would have been a job in the natural sciences.
But if he couldn’t have that, he found that he would prefer another form of productive work.
Anything was better than being a drain on society.
But what could he do? What was he qualified for?
Not much. He wasn’t a layabout, but he might as well have been, and at the moment, he felt worthless.
The thought that his parents would be… not disappointed in him, precisely, but would regard him as the family failure, no better than some London dandy who had married for money, was an additional source of shame.
But what if Kate were not pregnant? Could he ask her to wait?
To carry on posing as a student? He didn’t want to, but it was common for couples to wait years to be able to afford to wed.
Of course, this was different because they had anticipated their vows.
And, unlike most couples, every day he asked Kate to wait for him was a day she had to spend passing herself off as a young man.
Surely at some point, someone would see through her disguise.
Could he really ask her to continue her ruse, possibly for years?
Then there was the fact that his prospects as an academic were ill-defined. Were he a physician or a barrister, his training would have a set period of time. He might be able to tell her he needed two years to finish his schooling and another two to establish himself in his profession.
But in his case, jobs were so few and far between that he had no idea when one might become available, and even if one did, there was no guarantee that he would receive it.
Professor Kerr was probably in his sixth decade.
It was possible that his professorship would become vacant in the coming years, but it was also possible that he would work for another two decades.
The thought of spending twenty years without Kate as his wife felt unbearable.
Groaning, he lay his head on his desk, wondering what on earth he was going to do.