The Doctor's Discretion

by EE Ottoman

  “Well, hopefully soon.” William glanced up at the wooden tenements. Several of the windows looked out over the small field, but they were probably too far away and too obscured by trees to be seen by anyone watching.

  “There’s a burial ground like this one for black folks not far from here.” William shifted his gaze, dropping it to the stones. “Like this one, it hasn’t been used in quite some time. I don’t know if it even still exists. Maybe they’ve plowed it over by now.”

  Augustus looked around them too, taking in the trees and scrub. “I’m surprised they’ve let this one be as long as they have. Washington Square used to be a potter’s field too, you know, and they plowed that one over and turned it into a park when wealthy families started moving into the area. One day they’ll dig up these graves too, or just turn them further into the ground and build a tenement or a warehouse overtop of it.”

  They both contemplated the graves around them.

  The sky had gone dark, slate gray, and now it began to rain—icy, almost frozen drops that stung Augustus’ face. He turned up the collar of his greatcoat, and William shifted a bit closer to him, shoulders hunched against the rain.

  As minutes ticked by, a cold knot of worry congealed in Augustus’ gut. Had Moss decided to strike out on his own? Or had something happened?

  William dug his watch out of his pocket and checked the time. “We’ve been here almost twenty minutes. I don’t know if he’s coming.”

  “Where do you think he is?” Augustus tilted his face up towards William, squinting through the heavy rain. “Do you think he would go off on his own? At this point?”

  “I don’t know,” William said. “I’m also not sure where we’d even go to look for him. Did you get the address to the boardinghouse where he spent the night?”

  “No.” Augustus’ jaw clenched.

  “Do you want to stay here a little longer?”

  “No.” Augustus turned towards the gate.

  Back on the street, he didn’t bother trying to find a cab, just retraced their steps back to Chatham. Behind him, William lengthened his already long strides in order to keep up.

  Augustus’ head was too full of possibilities: Lake and Moss had been attacked somewhere between the whorehouse and the boardinghouse. Lake had attacked Moss. Lake had betrayed Moss to the authorities. Moss had come across some opportunity to leave on his own and taken it. Moss was trying to strike out on his own so as not to continue to put William and Augustus in danger. Or maybe they had simply gotten their times wrong. There were too many things that could have happened, and Augustus did not have enough information.

  Chatham Street was even busier now than it had been earlier in the day, clogged full of both hand-pushed and horse-drawn carts, along with a continual stream of foot traffic. He’d just started to pick his way across the road when he caught sight of a familiar form, though it was dressed in an unfamiliar sober gray coat.

  Augustus stopped caring who might be watching or if William could keep up as he broke into a near run.

  “Lake!”

  The man span around as Augustus all but barreled down on top of him.

  “Thank God,” Lake said as Augustus came to a stop in front of him, his boots sliding a little in the mud. “I was worried I would be too late and you wouldn’t be there any longer or that it was the wrong burial ground.”

  “You almost did miss us. We were coming to look for you.” Augustus studied Lake, taking in his grave demeanor, the paleness of his cheeks for once devoid of paint, and the dark circles under his eyes. “What happened?”

  “A soldier came this morning and took Mr. Moss away,” Lake said. “I couldn’t stop him.”

  Augustus felt the blood drain from his face. Behind him, he heard William’s low, horrified intake of breath.

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry.” Lake looked genuinely as if he were.

  “There wasn’t anything you could have done.” Augustus shut his eyes for a moment and then forced them back open, forced himself to think. “Did the soldier give you his name? Was there just one?”

  “There was just the one, and he said his name was Corporal Thornton—that Mr. Moss was a wanted criminal, and that he would have to arrest anyone who interfered. I couldn’t... I just couldn’t risk it.”

  “We’re not blaming you.” Augustus tried to think of what they should do next, but nothing would come. He felt hollowed out and empty. He pressed across his eyes and increased the pressure until he saw bursts of light against the dark.

  Fingers brushed his shoulder, a barely-there touch that dropped away almost immediately.

  “Thank you for coming to tell us this,” William said to Lake, his voice calm and controlled. “I’m sorry if it caused you trouble.”

  “I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more.”

  Augustus opened his eyes in time to see Lake shake his head, his expression a mix of exhaustion and grief. Augustus thought he probably looked very much the same.

  “Come on,” William said turning to him. “If Corporal Thornton has Moss, there is nothing we can do here. Let’s find a cab and go back to my rooms.”

  The sense of hollowness inside of him had grown until his entire body felt carved out and emptied of everything that had once been soft and alive. It only left him enough energy to nod and follow William.

  William hailed them a cab and got Augustus bundled up inside it before sliding in to sit next to him on the bench. Augustus took William’s hand as the cab started to move, cold fingers wrapping around William’s, holding on tight. They didn’t talk during the drive, but William didn’t let go of his hand either.

  When they arrived back at William’s rooms, Augustus was prodded out of the cab and stood staring at the pavement under his boots as William paid the driver. Then William’s hand was on the small of his back, hustling him up the steps and through the hall into his parlor.

  “I’m going to make you some tea, I think.” William eyed him critically for a moment and bent over the hearth to stoke the fire and put a pot of water over the flames.

  “Sit down,” he said to Augustus who is still standing, fully dressed including his top hat, in the center of the room, unsure of what to do or where to go. “You have to stop panicking. We need to think about this clearly.”

  “I’m not panicking.”

  William gave him a look that clearly said, Don’t be a fool.

  Augustus finally scraped together enough of his wits to take off his hat and greatcoat and hang both of them up on the stand by the door. He came back to the hearth and sank into one of the chairs.

  “Moss won’t give us up. I’m sure of that.” William had his back to Augustus, having retrieved a teapot and tin of tea leaves from inside the small sideboard where his china and coffee service were stored. He put the pot next to his tray of decanters on top of the sideboard and turned back for hot water.

  “I know, but he’ll be back at New York Hospital by now unless they choose to keep him in prison instead.” He was back to feeling numb and hollow. After all this, they’d failed, him and William. They hadn’t changed anything; they’d only made Moss’ life, not to mention their own positions, worse. God, he should never have let Moss out of his sight. He should have kept Moss here and be damned to the risks.

  But Thornton would have probably come for Moss anyway, would have most likely taken him and William too.

  Fear seeped into the hollow places inside of him, like being filled with the frozen weeds and stones of the graveyard. It wasn’t fear for himself but William that he found was hard to draw breath around.

  William urged Augustus to take a cup of tea and then sat himself in the other chair. “Now, what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what we can do.” Augustus shivered against the cold inside him. Even if Corporal Thornton didn’t know and never found out about William and his involvement, there would be no way he’d ever get the opportunity to free Moss again. Even if he were sent to
the hospital again, they would keep him guarded now for sure.

  He’d never really felt as if he suffered under the weight of his particular form of manhood any more than he suffered under his desire for other men. His body might not be configured in quite the way he would have liked, but it generally worked well enough. Now, it felt as if the whole world was crushing down on him. The hope that had kindled itself inside of him when he’d released Moss from New York Hospital had been stamped out.

  “I suppose we won’t be able to get away with the same plan twice. He’ll be watched from now on,” William said. “And we’d need a lot more help than just the two of us to get him out of prison, if they’re holding him there. Thornton knows who we both are, so if we approached him at all, it would be instantly suspicious.”

  Augustus took a long sip of tea, wishing it were something stronger. “I don’t think there is anything we can do.”

  There was a crease between William’s eyes as he bent forward, trying to think his way through the problem.

  Augustus set his cup aside let his head fall into his hand.

  He heard the creak as William rose from his chair, and then felt his touch settled on Augustus’ shoulder. “We’ll think of something. We aren’t just going to leave him there.” William’s tone was firm, without any doubt or hesitation at all, as he was wholly convinced that they would be able to come up with some plan.

  Augustus leaned into William’s touch, and William shifted closer so Augustus could rest his head against William’s side. After a moment, William’s fingers carded through his hair, and Augustus’ eyes closed. It couldn’t be later than noon, but he was ready to crawl back into bed and maybe not get back out again.

  He made an involuntary low noise of pain, and William’s touch left his hair. His arm went around Augustus’ shoulders instead.

  “Augustus? My dear, you have to breathe.”

  Augustus took several long deep breaths, and William’s arm tightened a little around him. “Good. Now drink the rest of your tea.”

  With one last gentle squeeze, William moved away, and Augustus sat up and obediently reached for his cup. He concentrated on the feel of the china and the taste of the tea as he sipped it.

  William knelt down next to Augustus’ chair, gripping each of his knees gently. “You should go back to your room when you’re ready. Wash properly and change your clothes. You’ll be able to think more clearly for it. If you want, I can come with you.”

  “You’re probably right. I was planning on going back to my room for a change of clothes anyway.” Augustus finished off the tea and put the cup aside so he could cover one of William’s hands with his own. “I’ll be fine. You stay here and work. I’ll come back this evening, and we will see if there’s anything that can be done.”

  He gave William’s hand a reassuring squeeze. William nodded and got to his feet, letting Augustus stand as well.

  “Please take care of yourself.” William watched Augustus collect his hat and coat.

  Augustus nodded. “I’ll see you this evening. Get some rest or do some work.” He hesitated and then crossed the room before he could think better of it and kissed William on the lips, chaste and gentle. William’s arms went around him, and he and kissed him back.

  They held each other, and Augustus inhaled the comforting scent of him, leaned against his solidness.

  Then he broke away and turned towards the door, and this time he didn’t turn back.

  ~*~

  Augustus had made it all the way into his front hall when his landlady approached him, coming down the hall from the kitchen.

  “Someone left a letter for you, Doctor Hill.”

  He paused in the act of digging his room key out of his pocket as she took a letter from her apron and handed it over to him.

  It had been sealed with an unmarked paste tab, not wax, and simply had his name in a careful hand across the front, with no return address.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Jennings.”

  She nodded at him and turned back towards the kitchens as Augustus unlocked his door.

  He didn’t bother taking off his greatcoat or stoking the fire in the hearth, just went straight across to his desk and searched through the papers until he found his letter opener. He was trembling slightly as he sliced off the tab and unfolded the letter.

  Dr. Hill,

  Please bring Blackwood and meet me at the potter’s field south of the New York House of Refuge at 3pm.

  Cpl. Thornton

  The date was printed in Thornton’s strong hand at the bottom. Augustus stared down at the letter as his mind refused to wrap around what exactly he was seeing. Why would Corporal Thornton be asking to meet with them? He had Moss already. Was this a trap of some kind, meant to incriminate Augustus and William somehow? But how? The letter didn’t mention Moss. Augustus didn’t see how Thornton meeting with him and William again would incriminate either of them.

  Augustus read over the letter again, all one line of it, and then placed it on the desk.

  Opportunity. Thornton had Moss, and meeting with Thornton could be Augustus’ best chance of getting close to Moss again. The only question was how. He doubted Moss would be with Thornton, but Thornton would know where Moss was and perhaps still have access to or hold custody over him.

  Augustus needed to come up with some way of getting through Thornton to Moss, and he had only a few hours to spare.

  Leaving the letter on his writing desk, August crossed to his wardrobe.

  There was an unadorned wooden box at the bottom. Augustus lifted it out and set it on his bed before undoing the latch. Inside was a sea service officer’s pistol and a large knife in a leather sheath. He took the knife out, set it aside, and lifted the pistol out of the box.

  It wasn’t a particularly beautiful thing, with its dark scarred black walnut stock and dull steel barrel. It bore the mark of the US Navy on the stockcap, but that was its only marking. It had none of the ornate carvings or engravings Augustus had seen on some officers’ weapons.

  The pistol was heavy in his grasp, and Augustus felt a strange sense of vertigo before realizing the last time he’d handled the gun he’d had two hands to do it with. He was going to need to clean it. Over a year of sitting at the bottom of his wardrobe probably hadn’t done it any favors, but he’d hoped he would never have to use it again.

  Even now, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it, but he didn’t feel like going to a meeting with Corporal Thornton unarmed.

  He put the pistol back into the box and carried the entire thing over to the table where he could sit and work.

  For a moment, he stared down at the gun without really seeing it and then began the process of taking it apart so he could properly clean it. Each movement should have been second nature, like examining a patient, movements his hands—hand—did without his mind giving the conscious command. Now, he fumbled with it, too long out of practice. He kept raising his left arm, moving to brace or steady the gun, only to remember he didn’t have the use of that hand anymore. He had to settle for awkwardly steadying it with his wrist alone and learning how to do all the finer motions with only his right.

  If it came down to it, he hoped that he’d still be able to shoot straight. Once, he’d been a good shot, but he wasn’t so sure now.

  Cleaning the gun distracted him in part from the letter and what he was going to have to do. If he went alone, William would be furious, he knew; he might not forgive him. But he wasn’t risking William again by bringing him into whatever Thornton was planning. Particularly not if it came down to an act of violence. The last thing Augustus wanted was for William to be caught up in the line of fire.

  William would have an opinion on the letter—thoughts on how to deal with Thornton. Augustus wished he could hear them, that they could discuss this. But there was just no way he could bring the letter to William and then have William agree to stay behind. That would never happen. Best to do this on his own.

  William could hate
him if he wanted, as long as he was physically safe and out of prison. Augustus turned his attention back to the gun on the table.

  When the gun was clean, reassembled, and loaded, he left it on the table, and put a kettle of water to boil on the hearth. He wasn’t meeting with Thornton unwashed and wearing the same clothes he’d worn for two days and picked off William’s floor.

  He was washed and dressed, feeling more presentable if not more hopeful, when there was a firm rap on the door.

  Augustus heart jumped as he crossed to unlock the door, half expecting Corporal Thornton and a full escort of soldiers on the other side. Instead, William stood in the hall, wearing his coat, top hat, and a pair of fine leather gloves.

  He smiled a little apologetically. “Your landlady let me in. I know you said we would meet this evening and I should get some work done, but I couldn’t concentrate, so I thought I’d come over early.”

  Augustus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There was nothing for it but to step back and let William into the parlor.

  Whatever hope he’d had that William wouldn’t notice anything wrong died when William’s gaze fell immediately to the open gun box and the pistol still on the table. His entire body went rigid, and when his gaze rose back up to meet Augustus’, there was terror mixed with something close to rage in his eyes.

  It was too late to stop this from happening. Augustus walked to his writing desk and picked up the letter, brought it back, and handed it to William.

  William’s mouth tightened as he read it, and when he looked back up at Augustus, all the fear had burned away leaving only anger. “So, you were planning on going and not telling me?” His voice was quiet and level, but still, the force behind it hit Augustus like a slap.

  “Yes.” He felt his shoulders rise in defense. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Trust me a little more than you obviously do,” William snapped “Were you really going to put yourself in danger and not even inform me what was happening? What if you were arrested or killed?” His gaze went to the gun on the table. “What would I do then, waiting for you and not knowing where you were or what had happened?”