Chapter 21

twenty-one

T HE REST OF the day slogged through more cheques to sign and letters to answer.

Edith had worked so hard that week Perry had decided to treat her and mistreat himself just to make her happy. Because what he wanted to propose to her was one of his nightmares.

So he asked her to go to…

“Dancing?” Excitement rang in her voice. “You want to go to a ball?”

“No, not a ball. When I was younger, I used to go to Saffron Hill and take part in one of the many dancing parties in the public houses at night. I would wear plain clothes and dance all night among pints of ale and laughter.”

It sounded absolutely crazy now.

Her face brightened. “It sounds wonderful. You aren’t worried about someone witnessing a seizure then.”

He shrugged. “No one will know who I am. I’ll be just another patron.”

“What are we waiting for?”

“Dusk. The dances won’t start until nightfall.”

“I’ll change and see you later.” She hurried out of the room, humming a happy tune and tearing a smile out of him.

He drummed his fingers on the desk, wondering if he’d be able to finish a whole dance before wishing to go home. Her smile was worth his sacrifice.

After he changed into a plain brown suit and a flat hat that horrified his valet, he hailed a cab to Edith’s house. Chased by the lamplighters, darkness crawled over the wet cobbles as he waited for her.

She emerged from the shadows, wearing a pretty dark-green dress that exalted her eyes, and his mood lifted in a moment.

She sat next to him in the cab, shifting constantly as if she couldn’t stay still. “I’m ready.”

He couldn’t hold back a smile at her happiness. “Saffron Hill,” he said to the driver.

“So you’re incognito now.”

“I disappeared from London years ago, and when I lived here, Albert was the earl. Everyone paid more attention to him.”

“Do you resent him for his choice?”

“At first, I did. But now I don’t, really. He’s truly in love with Gabriela. Albert chose love.”

“Yes, but you…” She fiddled with a fold of her skirt. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not fit for the job. Is that what you wanted to say?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that, but you went through a lot and needed to recover.”

“Albert gave me time. He didn’t leave me alone when I was still in the hospital. He waited for me to recover before marrying Gabriela. But I’m aware of my limits. Not to mention the constant worry of having a seizure in front of everyone.”

She put her hand over his, and the simple contact sent a shock through him, as usual. “The seizures are sporadic now. In a few years, they might be gone altogether.”

He laced his fingers through hers. “Oliver thinks the same. He says the seizures are caused by a trigger, and if I identify the trigger and control it, they will stop.”

She nodded. “I read that strong smells, like that of kerosene, can trigger seizures in some people. Sometimes it could be a flash of light, thunder, or even a type of food. It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Her eyes flared wide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I was talking from a purely scientific point of view.”

Hell, he loved it when she talked like a scientist. “Don’t apologise. Your brain works in that way, and it’s a beautiful brain.” He laughed. “That’s an odd thing to say.”

She laughed as well and rested her head on his shoulder. He loved these simple moments of intimacy, too. They were deeper than the kisses they’d exchanged so far.

Saffron Hill’s alleyways were lit with dozens of lanterns hanging from the many public houses. Loud music came from the open windows, and the air was thick with the smell of ale and wine. Holding Edith’s hand, Perry led her to the nearest public house. The patrons were dancing, playing instruments, and clapping their hands in the tap room in a chaotic and colourful party.

“It’s fantastic,” she shouted over the din.

“I told you.”

Edith didn’t waste time. She tugged at his hand and pulled him towards the middle of the hall. The patrons pressed him from every side. Loud voices buzzed in his ears, and a cold sensation crept over him despite the stifling temperature. He dragged his feet until he came to an abrupt stop.

“Wait.” He took a shaky breath. “Maybe you go ahead, and I’ll follow.”

“We can leave if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Her concern warmed his chest, but he needed more time to get used to the crowded room. “It was my idea. I’ll dance with you but not immediately.”

“It’s not fair for you. I don’t have to dance.”

He smiled. “I want to see you dance. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get a mug of ale, find a nice, quiet corner, and watch you for a while until I get used to the crowd. Really. Go. Have fun.”

“If you want to leave, let me know.” She kissed his cheek, and he found he could breathe more easily.

She didn’t wait for a partner but jumped into the middle of the dancing crowd. The other dancers welcomed her with loud cheers and raised mugs of frothy ale.

He watched her dance across the room because for some reason it was difficult not to, and he didn’t want to deprive himself of the pleasure. The more he focused on her alone, the less the crowd bothered him.

Edith twirled around, laughing and clapping her hands in rhythm with the upbeat music. Her skirts flapped around her legs, and her cheeks were flushed. He leant against the wall and drank her in, his blood humming in his veins.

She locked her gaze on his, swaying her hips. If she hadn’t already charmed him, she would now.

In the warm light of the lamps, her skin glowed from within. He understood what Mr. Carter had seen in her when he’d painted the Star Maiden. She looked like a goddess of light and charm, and he was utterly smitten with her. She headed to him, dancing across the distance separating them. The closer she came, the louder his desire roared.

“Your turn now.” She tugged at his arm. “I’ve been dancing for an hour, and you’ve been sitting here, watching me. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” He was under her spell, and the fact didn’t bother him in the least.

He put his mug of ale on the table and led her towards the middle of the room. “It’s a contredanse, isn’t it?”

“This one is out of fashion. You won’t find it in any fancy ballroom, but it’s one of my favourites.”

He followed her steps and copied the other dancers. He was slow compared to the others, but his brain surprised him because the instructions on the routine he’d learnt with his dance master resurfaced. Once he remembered the sequence of steps that had to be repeated a few times, he let the dance flow.

He laughed with Edith, holding her in his arms.

“Too many people?” she asked.

“Yes, but if I focus on you, I don’t mind.”

“Get off me!” a man yelled from behind him.

Loud voices and insults erupted from the back of the room. People shoved each other. Someone bumped into Perry’s back, and he ended up smashing against Edith.

“Ouch.” She lost her balance.

He held her up and led her away from the jostling crowd.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“A brawl. They often happen after a few drinks. It’s better if we leave.”

The sound of wood smashing came along with that of punches and glass shattering.

More people joined the fray until mugs were thrown across the room and the tables were overturned.

“Stop fighting!” the publican yelled over the chaos.

Not that anyone paid him the slightest bit of attention. Perry and Edith had almost reached the door when a chilling shout rent the air.

“Blood,” someone cried out.

“We need a doctor! Help!”

Edith came to a stop. “What happened?”

“I bet someone got stabbed,” he said.

“Perhaps we should take a look.”

“Of course.” He didn’t hesitate.

As the fight died down among mutters and whispers, the patrons formed a circle around a grovelling woman on the floor.

“I didn’t mean to stab her.” A man raised his bloodied hands. “It was an accident.”

“Is there a doctor here?” the publican asked.

“There’s one over there,” the man said.

Perry and Edith turned towards the doctor in question. The man was slumped over a chair with an empty bottle on his lap and his glasses askew on his nose. He snored so loudly Perry could hear him from across the room.

“Someone sends for a sober doctor,” the publican said.

“It’s going to be too late. She’ll bleed out,” a man said.

Perry tugged at Edith’s hand. “Can you help?”

Her chest rose and fell quickly. “I haven’t practised anything in years, and when I practised, my father was always with me.”

“That woman is going to die. There’s no time to wait for the doctor.” He took the leather bag lying at the feet of the drunk doctor and handed it to Edith. “Please.”

She was breathing harder now than when she’d danced. “I’m not a doctor.”

“Take a look at her.”

“She’s the mother of two,” the publican said. “Nice woman, she is.”

“Please,” Perry said.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She took the bag and straightened. “She’s unconscious. Lift her gently and put her on a table. I need hot water, clean cloths, and lots of light.”

The change in her voice and posture fascinated Perry. One moment, she trembled and paled. The next, she hardened and took charge.

She waved the people away. “Give her space. Perry, will you help me? You’ll need to clean your hands with carbolic acid.”

That caught him off guard. “Yes.”

She cut the woman’s shirt, untied the worn corset, and lifted the chemise revealing a slash in her abdomen. Perry twitched his mouth at the coppery scent of blood. The publican brought what Edith had asked and made sure people kept their distance.

After washing the wound with carbolic acid, she wiped it with a cloth soaked in hot water.

“The cut is not deep, but she needs stitches.”

Despite the blood, Perry watched intrigued as she washed the cut and stitched it from the inside out while he handed her the shiny surgical tools she needed.

“Is she going to live?” the publican asked.

“I hope so.”

She worked quickly without raising her gaze from the woman. Silence lingered in the room. The only sound came from the snoring physician.

After she stitched the wound, Perry helped her wrap a tight bandage around the woman’s belly. A round of applause rose from the crowd once they finished. He sagged against the table, hands shaking.

“She’ll need a proper doctor anyway.” She wiped her hands.

“He should be on his way.” The publican spread his arms. “Ale on the house.”

Perry covered the woman with a blanket the publican produced from behind the counter while Edith sat on a chair, her hair dishevelled and her eyes wild.

He squeezed her hand, and she flashed a little smile.

They waited in the public house for the doctor to arrive in an eerie silence. After the outburst, no one chatted, the music had stopped altogether, and only the sound of the patrons sipping their drinks could be heard. It took the doctor a good half an hour to arrive. Without Edith’s help, the woman would be dead by now. The patrons formed a circle around the improvised operating table again.

“Out of my way. Let me see,” the doctor said.

Perry held his breath for both the woman and Edith. She had to see that medicine was her call after the incident.

The doctor examined the woman and inspected Edith’s work. “Who attended to the patient’s wound?”

Edith stood up. “I did. It was a penetrating abdominal trauma, two inches from the spleen. The patient went into shock approximately two minutes after the event. I believe the shock was due to the fright and the pain rather than to a severe laceration of an artery or hypovolemia. I performed a ligation of a branch of the splenic vein, using the smaller haemostat clamp, although the laceration wasn’t as deep or serious as I feared, but I thought it wouldn’t harm,” she said all in one breath.

“Blimey.” Perry scratched his chin. “I wish I understood what you said.” But it was bloody arousing.

She blushed, looking adorable. “I just said the patient lost a lot of blood, but she didn’t faint because of that.”

The doctor nodded, a wide smile stretching his moustache. “I’m impressed, miss. The patient needs absolute rest, and I’ll have to inspect the wound every day, but, miss, you did a good job.” He offered his hand to her, and she hesitated before shaking it.

“Did I?” she said in a low tone.

“Absolutely. Your quick assessment of the patient’s condition saved her life. You should think about becoming a professional.” He checked the woman’s pulse. “Perhaps you don’t know, but there are a few medical schools that accept women. It’s your moment, miss. Take advantage of it.”

Perry beamed, but Edith’s mouth didn’t contract; it remained strained as if she were smelling something foul.

When they left the public house, Edith shivered despite the fact she was wearing a thick cloak and that no chilly gusts blew.

“You saved her,” Perry said, shrugging off his coat to drape it around her shoulders.

“I was so scared. Look.” She showed him her shaky hands. “I haven’t touched a book on surgery in years, and the last time I practised was before Princess Alice when my father showed me the different suturing techniques on animal carcasses he got from the butcher. Mother hated our practice. She thought it was horrific. Only a few times, Father let me practise on unclaimed cadavers in the morgue.”

“I don’t need all these details. Thank you.” He put a hand on his chest.

“Tonight, it was the first time I stitched a human, a living one, that is.” She wheezed.

“Even the doctor said you did a good job.” He swept a curl from her face, feeling her cold skin.

“I’m not sure how I feel right now, but I know I was lucky.”

“That’s not true. You were used to studying and reading years ago. All the knowledge you gathered didn’t go away. It’s there in your brain, waiting for you to decide to pick it up again.”

She leant against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her.

“You should start studying again, become a doctor, and help more people survive a stabbing.”

She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I can’t return to study.”

“Why not?”

“That time has gone. Now I’m…” She seemed to choke on air with a shuddering breath.

“What?”

“I’m scared.”

He pointed in the direction of the public house. “Thanks to you, two children didn’t become orphans tonight. You can’t be scared of that. You’re a brilliant, brave woman, and the fact you don’t see it makes me angry. Why do you think I asked you to work for me? Not for the damn painting or the letters I can’t read. I did it because I believe you can be a great doctor. Hell, you’ve just proven it.”

“My father was very disappointed when I stopped studying.” Each word came out slowly as if she forced herself to speak. “How can I start studying without disappointing him again? If I fail, I’ll completely lose his respect, or what’s left of it.”

“I don’t understand. You can’t disappoint him by studying again. That’s what he wants for you.”

She nearly hid her face in his chest. “I might not be good at studying anymore. What if I start again, and it turns out my brain can’t keep up? He’ll be so disappointed. I’ll be disappointed.”

“No, he won’t be.” He stopped walking to take her face in his hands. “He would never be disappointed by your trying. He’ll be right next to you, cheering you up and helping you.” He caressed the top of her head. “But the most important thing is what you want to do. Do you want to become a doctor?”

She pressed her cheek to his palm. “You know how difficult it is for a woman to be accepted into society as a surgeon. Female doctors are bullied and made fun of. Not to mention the years of studying and the cost of the fees.”

“I didn’t ask you to analyse society. Do you want to become a doctor?”

For a long, horrible minute, she didn’t say anything but stared at him with a lost expression that broke his heart. Then she gave the slightest, tiniest nod.

He leant closer. “I’d like to hear you saying it, please.”

“Yes,” she whispered lower than a little mouse.

“Louder, please?”

“Yes.” She raised her voice by only half an octave.

“Louder?”

“Yes.” There was no change in her tone.

“For Pete’s sake, shout!”

She let out a high-pitched scream that pierced his ears. He burst out laughing.

She laughed too, sagging against him. “Yes, yes. I want to be a doctor. I love medicine. I love working in a hospital. I want to study again.”

He picked her up and twirled her around. “Yes!”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whooped at the sky.

“Be quiet, you bloody drunk!” a man yelled from a window before pouring a bucket of icy water on them.

The sudden, unwelcome cold and wetness silenced Perry.

“There are people who want to sleep here. Go home.” The man slammed the shutters closed.

Edith’s mouth hung open as drops trickled down her soaked hair. “Goodness.”

He brushed her wet locks from her cheeks. “Are you all right?”

She laughed but clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. “Never been better.”