The Doctor's Discretion

by EE Ottoman

  “Do you want help?”

  Hill made to rise but William waved him off.

  “I’ll be fine. I just need something to do that’s not these.” He gestured at the books spread across the table. In truth, he needed to move, to stretch his legs, be alone for at least a little bit.

  “All right.” Hill sank back into his chair. “But don’t spend too long up there; it’s frigid, like the rest of the house.”

  William nodded and turned away, taking one of the candles with him.

  It was a long cold trek back through the dining room, down the hall, and up the stairs. The house around him was eerily quiet, making his footsteps and even his breathing sound too loud in his ears.

  He opened the door to a room with cases of jars containing the wet specimens lining the walls.

  The air in the room was cold. It seeped through the wool of his coat and the linen of his shirt, and made a tight aching pain start under his eyes as his sinuses filled.

  After shifting some jars around on the table, he was able to lay his ledger open, down flat, and have enough space for his ink as well.

  He started grouping the jars on the table and then on the shelves around the room into categories of specimen type: tumors; organs, healthy and diseased; eyes, ears, and skin samples; tissue samples, and brain matter.

  Grouping the jars was easy, soothing work. He didn’t concentrate overmuch on what was inside the jars, just counted off how many fit into each category. Standing over his ledger, he dipped his pen in the ink and wrote a neat label along each line.

  Cysts benign — 1

  Cysts malignant — 2

  The repetitive nature of the work helped, but there was still a cold knot of unhappiness and recrimination lodged in William’s stomach, along with the lingering weight of memory.

  He noted down tumors and organs and then reached for a small jar with a skin sample in it.

  There was a knock, and Hill stuck his head around the door. “Need any help?”

  William just stared at him, and Hill frowned, stepping into the room. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” William shook his head to clear it. “I’m just in an odd mood today.”

  Hill’s expression went even graver. “I’m sorry. The last few days have been difficult.” He touched William’s arm lightly.

  William wanted to lean into him.

  He turned to look at Hill. Whatever Hill saw in his expression made his eyes widen. Hill took a step closer, close enough that it would take nothing for William to slide his hand around the curve of Hill’s hip, to feel the shape of his waist and the gentle dip and swell at the small of his back. To feel how well Hill’s body fit against his own.

  William took a step back, and after a moment so did Hill.

  “Come back downstairs where it’s warm.”

  There was a light knock on the door, and then Moss entered the room.

  “That’s where you two went.” He surveyed the room, eyes going wide. “And I thought the room full of bones was bad.”

  Crossing to the table, he lifted a small jar containing a single human eyeball and held it delicately.

  “Doctor Blackwood and I were just going back down to the library.” Hill glanced quickly at William.

  William cleared his throat. “I have a little bit left to finish up in here and then the room will be cataloged. That way it will be one less part of the collection to worry about. You two go on; I’ll meet you in the library when I’m done.”

  Hill did not look pleased by this, but he couldn’t insist William not do work that would need to be done sooner or later. Instead, he nodded to William and gestured to Moss to follow him back into the hall.

  “We should also be thinking about food soon,” William heard him say. “The Auction Hotel makes good pies, and they also sell them by the slice for the noon meal. I might run out later and buy us a few slices.”

  Their voices faded down the hall, and William turned back to his ledger. He hadn’t been lying; he was almost done, and they’d have one whole section of the collection cataloged.

  Downstairs in the front hall, the bell rang. William straightened up faster than he’d intended. There should not be anyone coming here.

  Perhaps it was Mr. Peterson—although William couldn’t think what he’d want—or the servant who lit the fires in the morning. Either way, if they found Moss here, there would probably be questions asked which he’d rather not answer. A surprise visit from Mr. Peterson or any other representative of Young and Collins would be unfortunate right now. He and Hill could claim Moss was an assistant of some kind, but a representative of the law firm might worry they would have to pay an extra worker. They might make inquiries among the medical community, or at the very least remember Moss’ face.

  He opened the door and stepped out into the hall. From downstairs, he could hear the murmur of voices, one of them far too deep to be either Hill or Moss. William quickened his pace, but when he reached the stairs, he started down more slowly. He wanted to see who was in the hall before he called attention to himself.

  Halfway down, he came to a complete stop. He could see the hall now and the front entrance where Hill stood, his back to William, speaking to another man.

  William didn’t recognize him. What he could see, though, far too clearly, was the newcomer’s uniform.

  So, they had come already.

  He took a long deep breath and descended the rest of the stairs.

  Hill didn’t turn or acknowledge him when William came to join them. But the stranger’s gaze swept from Hill over to William.

  He was impressively tall, towering over both Hill and William, and wide set, with powerful arms and chest. Under one arm he carried a tall hat with a military insignia in gold on the front and a plume coming off the top. William didn’t know what rank the man’s high-collared, dark-blue uniform coat signified but it was clear from the cut and the gold trim this was an officer of some sort.

  “This is Corporal Thornton, here to ask me some questions about a patient that disappeared from New York Hospital.” Hill still did not look at him, but his voice was calm, almost casual. “Corporal Thornton, this is my associate Doctor Blackwood.”

  Corporal Thornton nodded to William who nodded back.

  “I’m sorry, much of the house is closed up. The original owner, Doctor Russell, is deceased, and Doctor Blackwood and myself are surveying his extensive medical collection. But there should be a fire laid in the parlor if you want to continue our conversation there.” Hill gestured towards the doorway to the parlor.

  Corporal Thornton hesitated for a moment and then inclined his head, this time to Hill. “Very well.”

  “I’m sure Doctor Blackwood has work to get back to, unless you want to speak with him as well.” Hill turned finally to glance up at William but looked away before William could fully read his expression.

  “That shouldn’t be necessary,” Corporal Thornton said. “Good day, Doctor Blackwood.”

  “Good day, Corporal.”

  He and Hill stepped through to the parlor, leaving William standing in the hall.

  He wanted to go seek out Moss immediately, make sure he wasn’t anywhere Corporal Thornton could stumble across him, or find him during a search. At the same time, drawing any attention to the presence of another person in the house was probably not advisable. Perhaps the less he knew about Moss’ whereabouts, the better, in case the Corporal changed his mind about questioning him.

  Best to just go upstairs and finish his cataloging. So he turned and went back to his work.

  CHAPTER 6

  ~

  “I’M SORRY I CAN’T OFFER you coffee. We’ve just finished the pot the servants made this morning.” Augustus settled on the settee as he had the first time he’d come to this house.

  “It’s all right. I had my morning cup before I came here.” After taking a moment to look around the room, Corporal Thornton folded himself into one of the chairs across from Augustus.
/>   When he’d answered the door, Augustus had taken Corporal Thornton for a young man, just starting out in the army. His rank would indicate that. An ambitious man would have managed to get himself promoted to corporal early in his career with the hope of a swift promotion to sergeant in his future.

  But perhaps Corporal Thornton was not an ambitious man because now, seated close as they were, Augustus decided Thornton was his own age, perhaps even older. Thornton’s dark hair wasn’t touched by gray, but his face, with features that could have been regal or aristocratic on someone else, didn’t read as that of a young man. They just looked hard and uncompromising on him. It was not a face made for smiling.

  The way he held himself and spoke told Augustus said that Thornton was used to giving orders, and that he’d been giving them for a very long time.

  Maybe Thornton wasn’t ambitious the way men were normally ambitious. Augustus knew there was more than one type of power to be held in the army and society in general. A clever man could maneuver himself into a rank above his station, but a very clever man didn’t need official rank in order to gain power.

  It was not a happy thought, and it made the hair at the back of Augustus’ neck stand on end— made him regard Thornton much more carefully.

  Corporal Thornton sat forward a little in his chair. “I’m not here to interrogate you, Doctor Hill. Just tell me what happened at the hospital yesterday, in your own words.”

  “Yesterday morning, I arrived at the hospital a little after eight, as is my habit. I went to the library for a cup of coffee, and then I did my morning rounds, checking my patients. A patient had died the day before and, since his condition had been rare, I wanted to conduct an autopsy on the body, for research purposes. So I reviewed my notes on his case. I then encountered Doctor Hobbes, a colleague of mine, and we arranged to speak about a possible experimental operation I wished to conduct on another patient’s tumor. After that, I looked in on a few of my patients whose conditions have not been improving as well as I would like. One patient in particular, Mr. Johnson, suffers from lesions on his legs and feet, which continue to become infected. I spoke with the nurses about the proper care and treatment of his bandages and the cleaning of his legs.”

  Augustus stopped to take a breath. Corporal Thornton hadn’t made a move to write anything down, just watched him. Augustus didn’t like the look in his eyes. They were too knowing, and Augustus could practically see the thoughts and calculations behind them. Thornton was sitting there quietly putting the pieces together. Waiting for Augustus to slip up and show him where the lie was.

  He knows something. He’s waiting for me to confirm it or implicate myself.

  Augustus stayed still and upright in his seat through sheer force of will. He would not hunch his shoulders or lean away from Corporal Thornton, although he wanted to.

  “You probably don’t want me to go into details about all my patients and their exact treatments.”

  “You can tell me whatever you like, Doctor Hill, but no, I don’t need details about your patients.”

  Augustus swallowed. He needed to pull himself together. He’d broken up drunken fights between sailors, witnessed a man being crushed by a falling mast, been shot at, and lost his hand. He’d kept his head in battle; he would not lose it over this, and he certainly would not let himself be afraid of this man.

  “I was actually speaking with Doctor Hobbes when I learned what happened.” Augustus kept his hand flat on the settee next to him so he wouldn’t be tempted to rub at his left wrist. “There was shouting in the hall. We both went to the door to see what was going on. Doctor Cooke, Doctor Anderson, and Doctor Miller were in the hall. Doctor Cooke was yelling about his patient having gone missing and ordering a search. He was quite distressed, but since he didn’t try to involve Doctor Hobbes or myself, we didn’t feel it was our place to intervene. Instead, we finished our conversation regarding my patients, and I did my afternoon rounds and then left for the night.”

  “And did you hear anything more about Doctor Cooke’s patient?” Corporal Thornton asked.

  Augustus shook his head. “I’m surprised she hasn’t been found, frankly.” He felt a small stab of guilt at referring to Moss as female but, at the moment, it was a necessary evil. “Surely a patient bound for the asylum wouldn’t have been able to get far.”

  “Not by herself.” Corporal Thornton cocked his head, and Augustus felt ice creep up his spine. “Did you meet the patient at all, Doctor Hill?”

  “I did once, the day before.” Augustus didn’t try to hide the fact. There was no reason to, and surely Thornton or one of his men had already spoken with Nurse Nelson. “A nurse told me about the patient when I first arrived at the hospital—the staff were gossiping—and I decided to go and see for myself. We exchanged a few words, and then I left and went about my morning rounds. That was the only interaction we had. I’m a very junior doctor, Corporal, and Doctor Cooke is one of our most senior staff members. He does not generally involve me in his research.”

  “I see.” Corporal Thornton sat back and then stood. “I think that will be all, Doctor Hill, thank you.”

  Augustus looked up at him with a deep, sinking feeling that he’d gotten something terribly wrong.

  “Do you have any idea what happened to Doctor Cooke’s patient?” he asked, even though he knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth it was very much the wrong thing to say.

  Corporal Thornton smiled slightly, and Augustus found he’d been right. It did not suit Thornton at all. “Doctor Cooke believes that his patient was taken by another doctor who wished to claim the discovery of the first hermaphrodite on US soil for himself. But I think there might have been other motivations at play.” He turned away from Augustus towards the door. “Good day, Doctor Hill. Don’t bother to rise. I’ll show myself out.”

  Augustus was not about to allow him to wander the house by himself, so he stood and followed the Corporal out into the hall and to the front door.

  Corporal Thornton fitted his hat back on his head, gave Augustus a slight nod, and then descended the step to the street. Augustus made sure he was several houses away before he closed the door.

  He turned, back against the front door, took several deep breaths, and started up the stairs at a fast trot.

  Blackwood whirled when Augustus opened the door, the anxiety in his face changing to relief when he saw who it was.

  “He’s gone.” Augustus closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “But he knows or suspects something.”

  “Where’s Moss?”

  “I gave him a candle and told him to go downstairs when the bell rang.” Augustus ran his fingers through his hair and pushed away from the door. “Fuck! He suspects I’m somehow involved.”

  Blackwood crossed his arms over his chest. “Neither of us can afford to lose our heads over this now. We need to think about what we are going to do, and fast.”

  “I don’t know, but I think at this point, moving Moss immediately would be unwise.”

  Blackwood turned from Augustus and paced to the back of the room before facing him again. “Do you think it’s safe for him to stay at my rooms?”

  “I don’t know.” Augustus wished he didn’t have to keep saying that. “Probably not.”

  “Do you think we should try and put him on a boat this evening?”

  “I’m not sure if we’ll be able to find a boat with space for him this evening.” Augustus pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Blackwood was looking at him as if he expected Augustus to have the answers that would get them all out of this situation. As if he trusted him to come up with some brilliant plan. It made Augustus’ throat tighten and his head ache.

  He wanted so very much to be someone Blackwood could rely on, someone who would keep him safe. But he’d ruined any chance of that when he involved him in this plan to begin with. He shut his eyes for a moment and wished he could go back, before all of this to the night they’d been together. He wished he�
�d drawn it out, made it last longer, mean more somehow. But after that, then what? Leave Moss in the hospital? Manage to find some way of telling Blackwood about himself that didn’t make Blackwood look at him like he was a stranger, like he’d lied and betrayed them both by doing it?

  He opened his eyes to find Blackwood gazing into space looking pensive. “We might be able to go to the household of my youngest sister. I’m sure she won’t turn Mr. Moss away.”

  Augustus drew in a sharp breath before he could stop himself. “No. Absolutely not. It is bad enough I’ve involved you, I am not involving your sister in this.”

  Blackwood’s expression had become slightly frozen. “I can assure you she would never go to a magistrate with this information, nor would she turn away a person in need, no matter what the circumstances. My family are reliable, loyal, Christian people.”

  “Of course they are if they’re like you, and that is exactly why I am not involving them in my kidnapping scheme.” Augustus was aware his voice had gone very loud and very high with agitation, and he was now waving his hands in the air.

  The ice cracked, and Blackwood’s demeanor crumpled enough to make Augustus draw back.

  “Then I don’t know what we’ll do.” Blackwood leaned against the table where his work was spread out, his back to Augustus.

  “Neither do I.” Augustus jerked the door open and headed down the stairs to retrieve Moss from the basement level.

  It was cold underground. Augustus could not shield the candle he’d retrieved from the parlor on his way. It flickered as he descended the stairs.

  He’d been uneasy the first time they’d ventured down here. It was odd to walk these halls and be in rooms empty of servants or bustle. Fires should be lit, voices coming from every direction, but there was nothing. Just the drip of water somewhere he couldn’t see and the smell of damp stone.

  Once Doctor Russell’s estate was settled, the house would be sold and some new family would move in, bringing a bevy of servants to fill these halls again. That thought cheered him slightly.