Page 9 of One Bed for the Bluestocking
Yet his mother’s letter made it clear that James had managed to establish a lucrative practice in a remarkably short period of time.He had even saved up enough to purchase a house from Mrs.Bromfield, an elderly widow who had decided to sell the property and move in with her daughter.Nathaniel knew at once which house his mother meant.It was a pretty brick building with five bedrooms situated on the outskirts of Kingston, surrounded by a grove of fruit trees, including ackee, mango, and breadfruit.
Nat sat back in his chair.And to think that his brother—hislittlebrother—could afford such a property!
His eyes fell on the scratched surface of his plain wooden desk, then traveled across his room.His quarters could be generously described as Spartan.There was a narrow bed with a plain wooden frame, his desk and chair, and a single bookcase.There was a small fireplace in the corner, although Nat could only afford to light it in the coldest months of the year.Which he supposed included February, but he had told himself it wasn’t that cold tonight.Perhaps he should go ahead and build a fire; it was cold enough in the room that he could see his own breath.
But in spite of the chill of the room, his face felt hot.His stomach was roiling and not, he suspected, because of the mutton.
He could not deny that he felt jealous of his little brother.Which immediately made him feel terrible.He loved James!Of course,Nat wanted him to marry the love of his life.What kind of horrible person was he, that he could not feel unreservedly happy for his little brother?
Maybe jealousy wasn’t quite the right word.It was more that James’s material success in life drew a sharp contrast with Nathaniel’s daily reality.It would be more accurate to say that he felt insecure about the fact that he had not achieved a similar level of financial independence.
And yet, his oldest brother, Richard, was married, with his own house and four children.His second-oldest brother, Thomas, had a successful medical practice in Glasgow and had recently purchased a townhouse.
But those happy events had not pricked Nathaniel’s sense of self-worth in quite the same way.Richard and Thomas were both older than him.They were supposed to reach those milestones before he did.Their success had therefore not stung.But he could not deny that seeing James, who was three years younger than him, purchase a beautiful home while he was stuck eating boiled mutton in a dingy boardinghouse made him feel like the worst sort of failure.
And he knew that was wrong, that he wasn’t a failure.Only a fraction of the men who sought a fellowship ultimately received one.And out of those fellows, only a small number were ever appointed to be tutors.To have achieved that post by the age of seven and twenty was a significant accomplishment.
But just because a position was lofty did not make it lucrative.For an instant, he wished that, like his brothers, he had stuck with the medical coursework his father had sent him to Edinburgh to complete.
But of course, he couldn’t have done that.He had been miserable that first year, trying desperately to muster a little enthusiasm for bunions and bloodletting.When he attended his first natural history lectures, on the other hand, he knew at once that he had found his passion.
But the sad fact was that passion didn’t pay the rent.His mother’s concerns that he might never become gainfully employed were not unfounded.There were only three paid positions in natural history by Nat’s count and far more interested applicants.As the years went by without being selected for a professorship, most men abandoned their dreams of academia, usually by accepting a church living in some remote hamlet.
But sometimes, men who would not give up on their dreams wound up stuck as fellows for decades due to the scarcity of positions to which they might advance.Nat had heard about one poor sod over at Cambridge who was in his sixth decade and still a mere fellow, living in his humble college rooms and prohibited from marrying!Nat didn’t want that to be him.Even if it wasn’t considered an embarrassment to be a fellow at seven and twenty, he was coming to realize that he was already sick of boardinghouse life.And at some point, you ran the risk of becoming the man everyone whispered about behind his back.What was the age at which one was expected to accept the fact that your dreams were simply not in the cards?Thirty-two?Thirty-five?Surely a man must move on by the age of forty.
He sighed.He had a few more years, in any case.It wouldn’t do any good to fret over things that were outside of his control.
Determined to be better than his knee-jerk reaction, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper and began composing a warm congratulatory letter for James.
Chapter6
On Friday, Kate arrived at Nathaniel’s office at a quarter to ten.She felt almost naked, as she was dressed in a pair of Felix’s old breeches with nothing more than a tailcoat for concealment.But for the last week, she had stayed up late each night sewing padding into strategic spots inside the jacket until she was satisfied that she could pass as a young man.Today, she would find out if her assessment was correct.
She had brought the finished watercolors with her, thinking she could show him prior to the meeting with the other students, but now that she was here, she hesitated to knock, worried that she might be interrupting him at some other task.
“Kit?Is that you?”
Kate turned to find the subject of her ruminations striding down the corridor.Oh, dear.In the soft morning light, he looked even more handsome than she had remembered.
She recalled that he had asked her a question.“G-good morning, Mr.Sterling.Sir.I, uh…” She held up her portfolio case.“I brought the watercolors.I thought there might be time to show you before the meeting, but if you’re busy?—”
“You have them there?”He paused in the act of unlocking the door to grin down at her, and Kate’s heart stuttered in her chest.“I can’t wait to see them.”
She followed Nathaniel into his office.If he found anything odd about how she looked in Felix’s jacket, he gave no sign of it.He went around the room, drawing up the window shades.She laid the portfolio on his desk and unwound the string from around the button that held it shut.
He rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he approached.“Let’s see what you’ve done.”
Kate pulled out the first painting.She had chosen a pose of Marigold crouched, in the moment before she sprang forward to chase the ball.She heard Nathaniel draw in a slow breath, but he said nothing.
After a moment, she withdrew the next watercolor, a close-up study of Marigold’s face, accurate down to the last whisker.Nathaniel chuckled at the third painting, which showed Marigold rubbing up against an invisible object, a look of pure feline contentment on her face.The final illustration showed her stretched out in repose, the tip of her tail curled and ready to flick as the big cat dreamed.
After studying it in silence for an interval that felt excruciating but was probably no more than twenty seconds, Nathaniel sat back.“These are spectacular, Kit.The job is yours, if you’ll take it.”
No one had ever accused Kate of being overly effusive.But she felt a smile bubbling up inside her, impossible to contain.She was talented.She really, truly, was.She had won this position based on skill.
She was good enough, both as an artist and a scientist.
“Thank you,” she said, voice quavering.She froze.Pull yourself together, Kate.She was supposed to be a young man, and young men did not snivel.
