‘Rapid heartbeats? How fascinating. To hear life at such an early stage of development. Is the instrument easy to use?’
‘I’m sure young Tom here won’t mind you listening to his chest. Why don’t you give it a go and see for yourself?’
There was no hesitation this time. No wariness. Lady Isabella placed the end on the boy’s sternum, ever so slightly left without having to be told the human heart did not sit dead central, and rested her ear against the other end. Within seconds she was smiling again. ‘My goodness! Why, I can hear it as clear as a bell.’ Then she giggled, a delicious, warm sound which did odd things to his own heartbeat and made him feel uncharacteristically vain. Joe found himself unhooking his spectacles from his ears and stuffing them into his pocket and quashed the urge to neaten his unruly hair. ‘I can also hear your tummy gurgling, young man. There are so many noises going on inside your body it is like an orchestra is playing a symphony with your organs.’
A symphony of organs. What an apt description. ‘Listen again while Tom takes a deep breath. Can you hear any wheezing in his lungs?’
She bent her head again and listened intently for almost half a minute before standing up. ‘You are right. There is no congestion in his lungs. The only sounds of laboured breathing I hear clearly come from the swelling in his throat.’ Anticipating his next move, she handed him the tongue depressor on the nightstand so he could get a better look inside the boy’s mouth at the source of the trouble, then went to fetch the candle to shine light on the right spot. Just as she had said, the offending tonsils were quite nasty, but he had seen far worse. ‘Will you have to remove his tonsils, Doctor?’
Little Tom’s eyes widened and Joe winked at him and shook his head. ‘Only if they keep causing problems. In my experience, this is a stage many children go through and grow out of. I am of the belief, if one is born with an organ, then it serves a greater purpose remaining in the body unless it proves to be absolutely necessary to remove it. For the time being, Tom’s tonsils can stay put.’
The boy yawned and she was all concern again. ‘It’s time for your medicine and then it’s back to sleep for you, I think.’
‘Indeed. A good night’s sleep works wonders, young Master Tom. That and more of Lady Isabella’s tonsil-taming tea.’
She stood and began to limp towards the door to fetch it and Joe remembered she had been injured. ‘I can see to that. You should be at home, resting your ankle. Is your carriage waiting for you or would you like me to send for it?’ He didn’t dare offer to drive her home after the last time.
‘No, thank you, Dr Warriner. I shall stay till morning. I have already sent word to my family not to expect me home until then. The carriage is returning for me at six when Mrs Giles arrives.’ A servant chose that exact moment to return with his pot of coffee, which she glared at with blatant disapproval. ‘Coffee at midnight? Is that wise? If anyone needs rest, it is probably you, not I. You have a great many other patients to attend to tomorrow, including Tom, whilst I can sleep all day if I wish to. I believe your bed will do you more good than coffee will tonight. I can hold the fort here—as you have already plainly seen—and if the danger is passed, you might as well get some well-earned rest. A good night’s sleep works wonders, after all.’
As there was no arguing with his own good advice, he did exactly as she suggested.
The assembly room in Retford was small by London standards, but no less the crush. In the hour since their arrival, Bella had found a group of married ladies she felt comfortable conversing with and had deftly avoided being asked to dance by anyone by looking straight through any man who was fool enough to come close. Like sentries, her parents hovered close by, standing guard, which reassured her immensely. Clarissa, as usual, was stood some distance away surrounded by a positive battalion of men all fawning over her every word, enjoying being the adored centre of attention. As yet the handsome doctor was not one of them, but as he was still to make an appearance, his absence in Clarissa’s entourage did not make her feel any better about it.
She hadn’t seen him since the night he had come to call on Tom and Bella wasn’t entirely certain how she felt about that either. His visits to the infirmary had not coincided with hers, despite the fact she had taken to volunteering every day since the little boy had fallen ill. She had felt somehow responsible for the child, seeing that his treatment regimen had begun with her and the doctor had not altered it. The sense of achievement she had at being instrumental in his recovery was phenomenal. Tom was clearly on the mend now and Bella couldn’t help patting herself on the back for being the cause. Having the brilliant Dr Warriner say ‘well done’, and without being the least bit condescending about it, had been the icing on the cake. And they had conversed about medicine! It had been so enlightening to be able to discuss the things she had only read about. Since being allowed to use his stethoscope, she now had a hundred questions about both lung and heart conditions, which the real her, deep inside, was determined to make her ask. Perhaps she would find her courage and her voice enough to ask one tonight? If he ever turned up, of course, and if he could tear himself away from her sister.
His brothers were all here. All so like him in appearance, yet none quite as handsome despite their near-identical features and physiques. It was probably the scholarly demeanour which made the good doctor stand out as the single most attractive Warriner of the bunch.
And the spectacles.
Not that he wore them often, but when he did they made her mouth strangely dry. They magnified the cobalt irises of his eyes just a little bit, rendering them bluer still and more striking, and when he peered through them they served to magnify the power of his intelligence, too. Which was probably what Bella was drawn to. It couldn’t be anything else. It was only his scientific mind which drew her. His considered and reasoned logic. Even though she couldn’t stop staring at his lovely blue eyes. And perhaps the way his broad shoulders filled out his dark and sensible coat...
She was in the midst of pondering her odd thoughts concerning the good doctor when he strode in, looking quite splendid. In deference to the occasion, his normally plain black waistcoat had been replaced by one of blue silk, which did wonders for his eyes and made her gaze at the wide expanse of his chest for a second because the real her wanted to look and she couldn’t muster up the strength to argue.
He paused in the doorway, scanned the crowd, and Bella watched his eyes settle on her sister before he set his jaw. He watched Clarissa flirting with her harem of vying men for a few seconds, then he seemed to exhale—in defeat, disappointment, perhaps even irritation? Bella couldn’t tell but experienced the sting of it none the less, before he turned away and walked towards his family.
* * *
For over an hour she watched him surreptitiously. He had an easy way about him which she envied, clearly comfortable in his scholarly skin and enjoying the company of his boisterous family. When Bella accompanied her mother to the retiring room, she returned to see him dancing with one of his brothers’ wives. Bella had briefly been introduced to Mrs Cassie Warriner and had liked her immediately. She had not been introduced to her husband but had noticed his pronounced limp the first time she had seen him, so it stood to reason that particular Warriner did not dance, so his brother was standing in for him. Justifying why the doctor was dancing with a pretty woman—a pretty and obviously pregnant woman—made the fact he was dancing with one more palatable, not that Bella wanted to dance with him, of course. Dancing would mean touching and the very thought of that sent her into a panic. She never wanted to be touched again.
At the end of the dance she lost sight of him and was scanning the crowd for his dark head when he came up alongside. ‘I see your ankle is better.’
Instinctively, she jumped and took a step back even though he was not that close. ‘Yes, it is...although it’s not up to dancing.’ Why had she felt compelled to say that when he hadn’t asked her to?
Idiot. He dances