Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

Nigel

" A void her, avoid her, you fool." Nigel climbed down from his horse and looked at the Manor Cottage. As he retrieved his medicine bag from the saddle of the horse, he turned to see the butler in the doorway, gesturing around the house.

"You'll find Lady Georgiana in the garden, Doctor."

"Thank you." Nigel nodded in his head in gratitude and took the garden path around the house.

Really, he hadn't needed to come and check on Lady Georgiana today. He had been confident after his visit the day before that she was doing well enough without him. Yet for some reason, when he had risen this morning, it had seemed like a good idea indeed to come to this house.

As he neared the back of the building, his steps grew slower and he looked at the windows, checking to see if Miss Fitzroy was anywhere to be seen.

On the patio at the back of the house, between tall lupins and foxgloves was Lady Georgiana. She sat primly with a tea resting in one palm, though she wrinkled her nose as she lifted it to her lips, suggesting it was the ginger tea that Nigel had gifted to her the day before.

"Doctor Beille?" she said in surprise, placing her teacup down in its saucer on the small table before her. "This is a surprise. What can I do for you today?"

"I was riding past to visit another patient and thought I'd check on you as I was in the area." The lie made him fidget, scratching the back of his neck, for the truth was that he had no other patients in this part of London at all for the rest of the day. "How are you?"

"I am doing quite well indeed." Lady Georgiana looked very at ease, reclining back in her chest as she gestured to the seat beside him, encouraging her to sit. "You find me quite alone this morning."

"Alone?" Nigel's stomach knotted.

This is a good thing, is it not? It means Miss Fitzroy is not here.

"My cousin is out with my daughter-in-law this morning. She is introducing Kathryn to some of the other young ladies who assist her in writing her periodical."

"She is?" Nigel smiled a little at the thought, considering Miss Fitzroy's eagerness to learn from him the night before. "She is not one for being idle, is she?" He reached for his bag and lifted it into his lap, retrieving his notes on Lady Georgiana.

"No, I believe she prefers to be active. She likes to be of use, rather like you." Lady Georgiana smiled and nodded her head at him. "I could have sworn you were looking for my cousin just now as you appeared in my garden."

"What? No, I was just admiring your flowers." Nigel avoided looking at her as he reached for her wrist. "Now, tell me about your day whilst I check your pulse?"

Lady Georgiana went into detail about her morning, telling Nigel everything she had done so far that day. He tried not to show a response in his face when she mentioned Miss Fitzroy and what sort of time she would be home again.

"Right, Doctor. How am I? You have sat here and listened intently to me for some time now as you check my pulse and mix more of this awful tea together." She wrinkled her nose at the tea. "You must have some estimation of my health by now?"

"I'd say you are doing well indeed, Lady Georgiana. I shall leave you to it." He stood and gathered his medicine bag.

"Already? That is an abrupt departure indeed." She smiled up at him.

"Well, I have other patients I must get to now. I shall call again in a couple of days, my Lady."

"Thank you, Doctor. So attentive, as always." She tried to stand with her stick, but he bid her to stay seated and comfortable.

Nigel hurried away around the house, feeling strangely jittery and uncertain whether he wished to leave quickly or maybe hang around and stand the chance of seeing Miss Fitzroy again. Without knowing what to do, when he reached the front of the house, he stepped in through the open front door and found the empty hall table. He glanced up and down the hallway, being careful to check it was completely empty before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim book.

Placing the book on the edge of the table, he adjusted it a few times. Inside there was a small note that merely read, ‘For Miss Fitzroy, N.' He'd left nothing more in the note and pressed the book to the back of the table, praying it would not be easily noticed by the butler when he walked past.

Returning back outside, Nigel climbed into the saddle of his horse and rode away, out onto the road. He'd only been traveling a short distance when a carriage he recognized appeared before him, moving fast. The combination of their speeds in opposite directions meant he barely had a chance to see the carriage properly, but he caught a brief glimpse through the open window of the occupants.

One lady was turned away, looking out of the other window, but Miss Fitzroy was facing toward him. She saw him at the same moment his eyes found hers and she lurched forward in the seat, toward the window, but the carriage flew past all too fast.

Nigel glanced back over his shoulder, urging the horse to slow his pace.

Miss Fitzroy poked her head out of the window, looking back at him with a great smile on her cheeks. He nodded his head at her, a brief greeting, and that smile seemed to grow impossibly wider. When her friend took the back of her gown and pulled her into the carriage once more, she disappeared from view suddenly.

A low laugh escaped under Nigel's breath as he faced forward once more.

Her smile should not affect me so.

"She should not come. She shouldn't." Nigel adjusted the cuffs of his shirt one more time as he looked in the mirror. He knew well enough it was a foolish thing to do, dressing well in case Miss Fitzroy did make another unexplained appearance, but at least this way he would not be caught in such disarray again.

His cravat he adjusted until it sat flat at his neck, and fidgeted with the edges of his waistcoat too, pulling down the bottom of his waistcoat around his waist. Once happy with the clothes, he smoothed his hair too. It was flatter tonight, not so wild as it had been the night before.

"She will not come. It would be foolish of her to do so." Nigel turned sharply away from the mirror, wondering when exactly he had started to talk aloud to himself so much.

It is a foolish thing. A boy's approach to a woman, to talk aloud, as if I am going mad. They'll put me in the Bedlam if anyone hears me!

He closed the door on his bedchamber and walked to his main rooms, setting about cleaning up the space. As the evening sunlight faded from the windows, and darkness grew increasingly, he tidied away his things. The stacks of books became neat, and he managed to empty one of the tables, finding places for all of his medical apparatus.

He thrust open a window to let in some fresh air and lit candles too as the darkness grew thicker, so at least he would be able to see her when she arrived.

If she arrives. She will not come regardless, why am I doing this?

He remembered well enough telling her to go so he could think of her offer, and part of him prayed that she would not be so foolish to come again.

"She may be seen. What scandal then?" he whispered to himself as he sat down in his armchair.

She has spirit.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop thinking of her. He sat back in his chair and lifted a book into his lap, turning to the pages that showed the latest Italian illustrations of the inner workings of the body. Even the most grotesque and gruesome subjects of the body's machinations could not halt his mind from turning back to thoughts of Miss Fitzroy though. She soon came into his mind again, as if she had walked into the room.

She was very different to any other young woman he had met. As well as such spirit, she had revealed a steady determination by seeking out his home in the middle of the night and risking coming here without a chaperone. She was an independent soul, and despite her cousin's eagerness to teach her fine manners and posh ways, Nigel rather liked Miss Fitzroy for who she was without those excessively polite manners.

He found himself smiling at the thought of her standing in his apartment. He scratched his jaw, trying to get that smile to stop.

The hours went on and on, and the candles burnt down as he read. It was so warm in the room that he shrugged off his tailcoat and laid it neatly over the arm of the chair. Repeatedly, he glanced at the door, but no footsteps made the stairs creak and there was no knock at the door.

He soon gave up with the book and folded it on his lap, realizing something about what she had asked of him. He wished to give her those lessons, so she could improve her knowledge of healing. Despite his wish, he also knew it was a bad idea to give into her request. After all, it would mean spending time in her company. That time would be commented on by her cousin, Lady Georgiana, and it would be dangerous for him too.

I'd be breaking my vow.

He dropped the book on the table beside him and leaned back, coming to accept something. Despite all his preparations that he had done so blindly, the adjusting of his clothes, the clearing of the room, Miss Fitzroy was not going to come. She would do as he asked and stay away from here, for it was for the best.

Why am I disappointed by such a thing?

Slowly, Nigel stood from the seat. He undid his cravat, no longer needing for it to be so rigidly in place and uncomfortable around his throat. He tossed it over the back of the chair as he moved to the window and peered down at the road.

It was busy out there tonight, with so many people milling back and forth from the tavern that even if a woman did wander between them all, heavily covered in a cloak so that her face was hidden, she would not be seen.

Nigel stepped back from the window and looked at the clock on his mantelpiece over the fire. It was late, far too late for visitors.

He moved toward the candles that had flanked him in the armchair and blew one out. It cast the room into long shadows. He lifted the second candle and was about to blow that one out too, deciding he could make his way to the darkness of the other room without being able to see and undress for the night just fine without the light. Moving the candle close to his lips, he took a deep breath in, readying to blow it out, when he heard that customary creak on the stairs beyond his door.

That's not possible.

The creak was followed by another and there was the unmistakable sound of someone moving up the stairs and onto the landing outside of his apartment door. This evening there was no small thud or wince of pain, suggesting that they had not tripped on the top step.

Suddenly, there was a knock at his door.