Remembering the sight of him in the early morning light, she caught his eye and smiled. Apparently he could read her thoughts because a distinct flush crept up his neck as he returned her smile.
* * * * *
R.J. had to look away from Juliet's frankly appreciative glance his way. Clearly, she remembered their early morning romp as well as he did. To distract himself, he turned his attention more fully on the conversation around him.
"How is your work with the poor faring, Dr. Abernathy?" Susannah asked yet another question of the man. R.J. wondered why his sister found Phineas's work so fascinating. She asked after his charity practice every time the Abernathys visited.
"At times I wish there were a dozen of me." Phineas beamed with pleasure and began to expound on his favorite subject. She listened so intently, he could almost believe she was interested in what the doctor had to say as he laughed ruefully. "There is a great need for physicians to help the poor."
"I hardly see why the poor should be in more need of a physician's aid than their betters." Annabel had no patience for Phineas's charity work, and it showed in her contemptuous tone. "Though perhaps if they bathed more often, they would not."
Phineas treated the question as if it were seriously meant. "Disease seems to hit those living in poverty with more virulence. I do believe hygiene is somewhat to blame, as you say, Annabel. But clean water and warm hearths are often lacking as well. Sometimes I despair of ever turning the tide of death among the poor. Still, I feel I am making a difference in the lives of those who are not too afraid to see a doctor when they are ill." He nodded toward Susannah. "You will be happy to hear that I have acquired a new apprentice. He wishes to become a doctor and he is eager to learn what he must before he enters medical school."
Drusilla said sharply, "I hope this new apprentice will allow you to retire home at a more seemly time in the evening." She turned to Annabel and said dismissively. "I have met the young man only once, and he seemed a bit too nervous for the profession."
Phineas shook his head warningly. "That is what an apprentice is meant to find out, my dear. If he is not suited, he will discover so in due time. If he is merely unsettled by all he is learning, he may be a fine physician one day."
Susannah, blushing more than seemed to be called for at the mention of the unknown apprentice, leaned forward to say passionately, "I wish women could be doctors, then I would gladly become your apprentice."
Her statement caused a moment of utter silence. Even the maids paused in their serving. R.J. found himself speechless, unable to think what to say to stem the fury he could see building in his stepmother's expression.
Juliet spoke up for the first time all evening, though she had been listening intently and graciously accepting all of Phineas's compliments. "Why can't a woman be a doctor? I should think we would be very good at it, seeing as how we are often called upon to care for the ill."
At first R.J. thought she was merely redirecting Annabel's wrath from Susannah to herself, but then she laughed. "Of course, I don't know how a woman could manage a career when she has a household to see to." She turned to Drusilla Abernathy and said sweetly, "I expect that Dr. Abernathy has much to thank you for when it comes to your skills at keeping your household running smoothly."
Phineas leaped to brandish the olive branch that Juliet held to the offended Drusilla. "Indeed. The help of an apprentice pales in comparison to all that Drusilla does to smooth my path. I am deeply grateful for the fortune that brought you into my life, my dear."
Susannah seemed to remember herself, though there was an odd gleam in her eye when she said meekly, "I'm sorry, Dr. Abernathy. I suppose I was not thinking. Obviously a woman cannot be a doctor. I hope your apprentice proves himself satisfactory, despite his case of nerves. After all, he is under the best tutor he could possibly wish if he would become a great doctor."
Susannah's naive compliment brought a flush to Phineas' cheeks. R.J. suppressed a chuckle of amusement. The doctor was so handsome that he was subjected to the most outrageous compliments on his looks and charm; he took them without thought. But a compliment to his medical skills — that still brought the man to a blush.
He glanced at Juliet, wondering what she was making of this first dinner with his family. His wife did not return his glance, however. She was avidly following the conversation with an expression of worry. He hoped the topic of poverty had not distressed her. He considered Phineas's passion for medicine and helping the poor his Achilles' heel. He would discuss it forever, which Susannah well knew.
Phineas was arguing with Susannah's contention that the poor should consider him a god. "My dear Miss Hopkins, you give me too much credit. I do, after all charge a goodly sum for my work."
"Not enough," Drusilla put in icily.
Phineas's eyes flashed with anger. "I charge what my patients can afford." This was an old argument between them. R.J. had long ago accepted that it would never be resolved. But his father did not like discord at the table.
Susannah, oblivious to the tension between husband and wife, said "It is a shame that you can't just give them the help they need."
R.J. interrupted her, hoping to calm the antagonism between husband and wife. "A man doesn't value what he doesn't pay for, Susannah. Dr. Abernathy is right to charge whatever the patient and his family can afford." He turned his head to catch Juliet's gaze and smiled, thinking of the man she had put to honest work making her buttons. "Everyone deserves to keep whatever dignity they can."
Juliet chimed in to help him ease the situation. "A man does not like a handout nearly as much as something he has earned, Susannah." R.J. felt a jolt of possessive pleasure. For the first time, he felt that the two of them were a pair, allied against any forces that might threaten their harmony.
"He should charge for supplies and his time, at the very least," Drusilla Abernathy said sharply, unwilling to let her point be lost.
R.J. sighed, wondering if he could avert the coming storm. His father would be displeased but he did not think there was any way short of dragging one of them from the table. On any other matter, Phineas would have deferred to his wife, allowed her the last word, and considered the matter no more. But not when she attacked his practice of medicine. "That is why I charge my wealthier clients more for my time, Drusilla. They can better afford to pay the rather steep sum I charge."
R.J. watched his father grow more and more distant as Drusilla continued the argument. "The more your fee, the more you are respected." He wondered why Annabel had not stepped in to calm her friend.
"Yes." Phineas at last seemed to realize that he was not being a good guest. He added mildly, though it obviously cost him effort, "For my wealthy clients I have conceded that truth to you years ago, my dear."
"You should do the same for all your clients."
Juliet came to his defense in an ill-timed attempt to calm things. "But who is to say that a patient returned to good health by Dr. Abernathy for a low fee will not then become able to support his family better, to make more money for himself, and to afford to pay more of a fee the next time his family has need of your husband's services?"
To his relief, Annabel, after a short shocked silence, remembered her hostess duties and said sharply, "Perhaps this subject is better left to the men. They understand the business so much better than we women. after all." Her smile was brittle, and her glance at both Juliet and Susannah scalding with disapproval.
Juliet said nothing, although he knew that she wished to argue by the stubborn way she pressed her lips together and flared her nostrils slightly.
Susannah, however, did not remain silent. "Why can we not discuss such things? Father and R.J. admire hard work. They have said so numerous times. They expect us to understand that sentiment. Why should we not speak of Dr. Abernathy's worthwhile toil?"
Jonathan Hopkins at last stepped in to say quellingly. "No one is saying that Dr. Abernathy does not do admirable work — "
For the first time in R.J.'s memory, Susannah interrupted her father to continue arguing her point. "In fact, I wish to know why I could not be a doctor. Is that not a useful profession?"
"What, with all the wisdom of your eighteen years, would you know about usefulness?" Annabel's question was obviously meant as a sharp scold. Her intention no doubt had been to reduce Susannah into chastened silence.
Susannah, however, fueled by some frustration he could not comprehend, uttered the unthinkable. "I know I would make a good doctor."
There was a stunned silence that even R.J. welcomed. What sensible thing was there to say about his sister becoming a physician?
Drusilla Abernathy broke the silence with a nervous laugh. "What an absurd idea, my dear. Why Phineas is a young and hearty man, and he comes home too exhausted to eat his dinner some evenings."
"Why?" R.J. watched his sister in astonishment as she challenged her mother. Hectic color burned in her pale cheeks as she gazed at each of them in turn, saving her most furious gaze for her mother. "Why should Dr. Abernathy, and R.J. and Father work hard and we not carry our burden as well?"
"But we do." Annabel's fury made her voice extra quiet and extra reasonable. R.J. knew the repercussions of that quiet voice much too well to envy his sister. He suppressed a shiver as Annabel continued, "We provide them with a comfortable home and pleasant company, so that their hard work is rewarded."
"Exactly, my dear. And we men understand that to do so is woman's honest toil." Jonathan Hopkins spoke calmly, his voice an instrument to quiet the stormy seas of the conversation.
R.J. glanced at his father, wondering if he had any awareness of what fate his wife's soft voice portended for Susannah. But other than the faint twitch at the corner of his father's mouth, he saw no emotion at all.
He sighed. As usual, it would be up to him to protect his sister as best he could. Susannah would pay for her outburst in private. He would see if he could step in later, when matters had calmed. He did not like to think of his gentle sister at Annabel's mercy. Nor did he wish to give Annabel any further reason to be angry with Susannah. Perhaps he could suggest that her unusual behavior was a result of a great disappointment in losing her chance at a titled husband.
Though the idea was ludicrous, Annabel would most likely consider it reasonable. And then her anger would be aimed at R.J. and his scandalous marriage to Juliet. He sighed again. He must ensure that Annabel did not take out her redirected anger upon Juliet.
Juliet, with a frown at Susannah, said, "Not to mention children. They are quite a deal of work for women as well."
Unfortunately, her words roused Drusilla, who turned three shades of plum before she asked, "And how would you know that? Have you any children yourself?"
Juliet turned to him for support, but all R.J., horrified, could do was wish that he had warned her of this trap ahead of time. Drusilla was unhappily childless.
Without his support, Juliet stumbled on to say, "I had charge of my three younger sisters." Her eyes begged him to help her rescue the conversation.
* * * * *
Juliet was not quite certain what she had said wrong. But she knew that she had. Dreadfully wrong. Dr. Abernathy's gaze darkened with sorrow, and his wife put down her fork without finishing the last of her meal. She had been concentrating so hard on what secret Susannah and the good doctor were hiding that she had missed a vital clue to what offense she may have unwittingly given.
Belatedly, Juliet realized the obvious. The Abernathys were childless. Apparently it was not a situation that suited either of them, though imagining Drusilla Abernathy as a doting mother was impossible.
Juliet could certainly understand the quiet heartache of childlessness. Miranda and the duke bore their own such despair with grace, but she had seen the sorrow in her sister's eyes as Valentine and Emily added two children to the family in three years of their marriage and Miranda remained barren.
She could not refer directly to such a thing, however. So she said, hoping that R.J. agreed with her, "R.J. and I are hoping to be blessed with children, of course." Didn't they? She hadn't really had any time to give it thought. Children. Did he think she would be a good mother?
Afraid to stop talking and hear the awful silence that would greet her, Juliet babbled on. "I know the future is not always certain." Stop, she commanded her tongue. Afraid she would never stop, she took one quick breath and finished, "So I am content to wait for my blessings."
There was no response for a moment. She prepared to launch herself into inane confidences about her younger sisters' antics. Fortunately, R.J. said, "It is past time I did my duty and raise a son to join the family business."
"I trust you two will make excellent parents." Dr. Abernathy spoke with a bright smile that did not completely erase the shadows of his personal grief.
"We will do our duty," R.J. said somewhat stiffly. There was a smile on his lips, though, she saw with relief.
"Duty, eh?" Brow raised, the doctor teased her directly, "I believe a younger man is better able to cope with the exuberance of children." Then he laughed, obviously making an effort to shake off his own sadness. "I well remember my own father playing the horse for my brother and me."
He turned to R.J. and said with mock severity, "And you must make time for your children when they arrive. A man who neglects his family for business deprives himself and his family of great joy."
R.J. glanced into Juliet's eyes with a spark of warmth that brought an answering heat to life within her. "I am eager for that day."
"Two children is most sensible." After the tense conversation of moments ago, Jonathan Hopkins was now almost smiling, "One son and one daughter, as I have."
"I want a dozen," Susannah said forcefully. As her gaze was directly upon Dr. Abernathy, Juliet expected both her parents, and perhaps even R.J., to recognize the depth and passion of her infatuation.