Chapter Sixteen
James
James slumps in his seat, his shoulder brushing Lord Mason’s. Even Lord Mason is yawning, his penchant for decorum no match
for Lord What’s-his-face and his mind-numbing, unending speech about governmental oversight today.
Unfortunately, without something to actually focus on in session, James can’t help but return to memories of Prince’s stag
night, to his hand on Mason’s chest, to their declaration of friends . Nor can he forget the way his chest felt strangely hollow when neither Mason nor Lord Mason attended the wedding. And then
the further blow of discovering his aunt had given birth without anyone bothering to notify him.
He doesn’t know when it started to matter to him what the whole family thought of him, strange unrelated relations that they
are. More than that, when did it start to make him antsy to go a few days without seeing Mason? It was his decision to keep
him at arm’s length, after all. Friends, and nothing more.
But his traitorous brain keeps replaying their kisses, keeps remembering how lovely their easy camaraderie was. He can’t focus
on anything. He’s hardly eating. His sleep is shit. Mason has ruined him, and he’s not even allowed him to do it properly.
Lord Mason elbows him, sitting up straight in his seat. James follows suit by reflex.
Lord What’s-his-face has finally sat down. And Lord Havenfort now stands tall in front of the bottom row, staring out at the assembly, hands twisting at his sides.
“The right to self-accreditation may have merit when it comes to many trades. Farmers, carpenters, bakers, housekeepers—all
these professions may be taught outside of formal schooling without fatal consequences.
“But I ask you, gentlemen, do you want the man overseeing the birth of your very heirs to have been taught by his father,
who was taught by his father, and not a one of them ever having received formal training? Who’s to say he won’t butcher your
wife, leave your child dead, and walk away telling you that’s the best medicine can do?”
Bodies shift around the room. James finds himself with his hands on his knees, listening, as Lord Mason leans so far forward,
he’s nearly into the pew below them.
“Proponents of this act do not wish to limit the freedoms of Englishmen,” Lord Havenfort says. Lord What’s-his-name sighs
gustily. “Instead, we want to ensure that all people of our great nation have the right to safe medical procedures. The freedom
to know that when they are in a doctor’s care, they are safe.
“My first wife died in childbed.” This falls like a mallet over the assembly. “I was assured after the birth of my daughter
that my wife was well. I held my daughter in the nursery, content, until I heard the screaming.”
James swallows hard, Lord Havenfort’s face blurring in and out of focus. He struggles to remind himself that his aunt is just
fine. This was over twenty-two years ago, when Lady Gwen was born.
“I was later told, by a coroner, that something ruptured on the wall of my late wife’s womb, bleeding her dry in a matter
of minutes. I didn’t even make it to the room for her final breath.
“And her noble physician? Told me there was nothing he could have done. That my wife’s lost life was simply a matter of course.
“My daughter grew up without a mother, because the physician I hired to care for my wife didn’t know enough to save her. The
physician who came heavily recommended. The best I could find.”
Lord Havenfort looks around the room, meeting as many eyes as possible as the men sit silent and aghast.
“Twenty-two years later, I have just been blessed with a son, and my beloved wife is truly fine, stable, and happy.”
Lord Mason suddenly sits up straight, clapping vigorously. The room slowly joins in. James claps his hands, his fingers numb
from where he was gripping the bench.
Lord Havenfort below them offers a small smile. “Their survival is in no small part thanks to a qualified physician, Dr. Brayton,
who was accredited at the University of Edinburgh Medical College. I was able to properly vet Dr. Brayton using the meticulous
research from our committee.
“But should we fail to pass this act, what becomes of all those without the wealth to hire qualified physicians? Do we not,
as Englishmen, as Christians, have a duty to support the poor, to provide them with opportunity? Do we not have a duty to
provide access to proper healthcare so that our children survive? So that countless thousands do not die of curable diseases,
decimating our workforces?”
Murmurs of assent begin to fill the hall, the lords shifting from awed regard to impassioned agreement. James finds himself
exclaiming along with them.
“Were there another way to ensure such a registry, without the guiding hand of Parliament, perhaps I would not feel compelled to speak to you thus. But as it has fallen on our shoulders to protect our citizens, our children, our wives—I call on you to make the right decision. Join us in voting to enact this registry along with the Commons, so that all Englishmen may have proper care, and be safe in the knowledge that their physicians will keep them well.
“I must return to my healthy son and wife now. Thank you.”
The room jumps to its feet. The lords clap vigorously. Even those across the aisle, who hate Lord Havenfort with every fiber
of their being, can’t quite refuse him this accolade.
“I’ve never heard such a speech in my life,” James says, leaning over to Lord Mason, who’s clapping so hard his hands are
turning red.
Lord Mason only nods, his jaw clenched tight, eyes a little shiny. James realizes then that Lord Mason’s wife has not yet
made it safely through the trial of childbirth. He knows Lord Havenfort will ensure she has only the best physicians possible,
but it cannot be easy for Lord Mason to know what is coming for her, and to be so far away.
James has no want of a wife, but he certainly wants Lord Mason’s to be well, and for their child to survive. James follows
Lord Mason from their pew, hoping he’ll be able to intercept Lord Havenfort briefly to congratulate him on the birth. He really
should pay a visit to his aunt as well and give her his felicitations.
Perhaps if he extends that long overdue apology to his aunt and cousin, someday he could become someone they think to call
when big things are happening.
As he heads down the stairs at the end of his aisle, he spots Raverson across the room. Their eyes lock and James’ stomach
clenches. The extended family has weathered one crisis, but there’s still another brewing. Raverson sneers at James and James
trips, clutching Lord Mason’s arm to stay upright.
“Steady on,” Lord Mason says, helping James down the last few stairs into the aisle.
James gives him a grimace of a smile, and looks back to where Raverson was. But Raverson is gone. James cranes his neck, but
he’s fled the chamber, leaving James with no choice but to shuffle out behind Lord Mason. He knows they’ve staved Raverson
off, for now, but can’t quite banish the unsettled, panicked feeling in his chest.
He wishes Mason were here to reassure him, or distract him, or— James shakes himself. This is neither the time nor the place
to think about that clandestine moment.
But even ignoring... thoughts of Ascot, or Raverson, James is surprised to find he just wants to talk to Mason. He wants
to tell him about watching Cunningham, Wristead, and Rupping try to keep their eyes open and stay standing throughout Prince’s
wedding. He wants to give Mason the play-by-play. Friends , they said. He’s rarely wanted to speak to a friend so badly, now that he thinks on it.
He and Lord Mason make their way through the antechamber, Lord Mason holding on to the cuff of James’ sleeve. It feels shockingly
safe. Like maybe he and Lord Mason might be something like friends too.
And if he found a way to make himself a greater part of the larger family, he could be friends with his cousin and her stepsister
as well. No longer just trying to make a good impression to prove himself worthy, he’s rather surprised to find he genuinely
wants to be part of all of this. Of the research that might protect the two girls, should they ever decide to settle down
rather than making mischief through another few seasons. Of the dinners and card games Lord Mason and even Mason have alluded
to.
He... wants a family. Not one born of himself, he doesn’t think. Though occasionally when he thinks of having a son of his own, one he could love and support, rather than belittle, he thinks perhaps he could survive a traditional marriage. But then all the butterflies he feels for Mason, all the longing and want and—
“Uncle!”
James bumps into Lord Mason as they cascade onto the street in the wave of lords leaving the chamber. He can see Lord Havenfort
just to their left, his blond head high above the rest. He stops moving and Lord Mason leads James by his suit cuff to join
Lord Havenfort at the side of the wrought-iron fence.
“That was amazing,” Lord Mason tells Lord Havenfort.
Lord Havenfort gives him an honest, if exhausted, smile. Up close, Lord Havenfort’s eyes are rimmed with purple, and it looks
like perhaps either Lady Gwen or MissBertram put some kind of rouge on him to make him look less... sleep deprived.
“Truly,” James adds quickly. “And congratulations on the baby, sir. Please pass my regards on to your wife.”
“I will,” Lord Havenfort says, reaching out to pat his shoulder. “Thank you both for your hard work. We may just pass this
thing yet.”
“If there’s a single lord in opposition after that speech, I’ll eat one of Meredith’s hats,” Lord Mason says.
Lord Havenfort laughs. “Don’t be too hasty with your assurances, Albert. But thank you. Now, I must get home. Be safe, both
of you.”
With that, he turns and nearly jogs down the street, back to his beautiful family. James looks up at Lord Mason to find him
watching his uncle wistfully.
“How is your wife, Mason? I haven’t asked in too long,” James says.
Lord Mason blinks and looks down at him. “She’s doing bet ter, actually,” he says with a small smile. “Not quite well enough to travel yet, but hopefully soon. I’m planning to bring Beth and Gwen up to the country for a week’s visit on the weekend. As much for Meredith as to get them out of Uncle Dashiell and Aunt Cordelia’s hair. Would you like to join us?”
He doesn’t even think about it. “I would, thank you. I’ll meet you at the Havenfort residence?”
“That would be splendid,” Lord Mason says. He and Mason have the same bright smile. “I’ll send you the details. Meredith will
be very glad to meet you—I’ve told her all about you.”
James watches Lord Mason walk off, a spring in his step. James stares after him, a slow blooming panic coming over his chest.
He just— But that means he’ll be in the country for a week with Mason, for the first time they will have seen each other since...
friends .
He can’t tell if the irregular patter of his heart is excitement or terror.