The Doctor's Discretion

by EE Ottoman

  They continued on past the town and down the road, past vineyard fields, the low rows of vines bare of leaves, the fields divided from the road by low stone walls. Grape vines gave way to a grove of apple trees and beyond that was the house.

  It was not the biggest house they’d seen—two stories in brick with twin chimneys on each end of the pointed roof and six-paned republic-style windows.

  The carriage stopped in front of the stone wall that bordered the property, and they all piled out. Mr. Brown opened the low iron gate.

  They headed up the stone path, and Mr. Brown unlocked the white front door. “This may be just the size you’re looking for, Mr. Wells.” He led the way into the empty main hall. Straight ahead of them was a staircase that led up to a small landing with a window, and then up again to the second floor. On either side of the small hall were open doorways to which Mr. Brown gestured. “On the left is the parlor, and to the right is the dining room.” They inspected the empty parlor with its large fireplace and numerous windows. Moss lingered at the windows by the back of the room that looked out onto the lawn and scattered trees behind the house.

  “There’s a garden outside.” Moss touched the pane of glass with the tips of his gloved fingers.

  Mr. Brown beamed at him. “Indeed. The previous owners cultivated both a kitchen garden and a flower garden at the back of the house along with a small fruit orchard, which you can just see, past the stone wall that borders the flower garden.”

  “What kind of fruit trees?” William asked.

  “Apple, of course, pears, and I believe some plum trees as well. If you enjoy gardening, Mr. Wells, you’re in luck. The previous owners were quite ambitious with their gardening.”

  Moss’ lips parted slightly, his gaze enraptured and lingering on the trees in the distance.

  Augustus exchanged a hopeful glance with William. “Well, let’s see the rest of the house,” he said.

  The dining room had fewer windows, just the one at the front of the house. It was also significantly smaller than the parlor. Augustus thought it would probably work well, since he couldn’t imagine Moss would be throwing large dinner parties anytime soon.

  Through the back of the dining room was the kitchen, a low add-on with a cold stone floor but a large hearth and clean, whitewashed walls.

  “There are three bedrooms upstairs,” Mr. Brown told them as he led the way back into the house and up to the second floor. “Perfect for any young family.” He threw Moss an expectant look over his shoulder but only got a blank stare in return.

  Brown wilted slightly, but by the time they’d gotten to the top of the stairs, he’d regained enough of his enthusiasm to describe for them in detail the exact dimensions of each bedroom.

  When they’d stood in all three rooms and heard Mr. Brown talk about them, and William had made appreciative noises while Moss looked impassive, Mr. Brown turned to Moss.

  “Now, Mr. Wells, would you like see the gardens?”

  Moss’ face lit. “Yes, please.”

  Brown smiled and led the way downstairs.

  As far as Augustus was concerned, the gardens weren’t much to look at. The ground was frozen hard, and the plants dry, with brown husks at best.

  The only thing that spoke to a garden existing where Mr. Brown swore the kitchen garden was were the long swells of turned-over beds. At least the space that would, in summer, house the flower garden had a stone wall around it to mark it off as different from the rest of the yard.

  The orchard beyond the flower garden was impressively large, with straight rows of pruned-back trees that went on as far as he could see.

  “I don’t know what I’d do with all of the fruit,” Moss said, a hint of wonder in his voice as he looked out across it.

  “Learn how to make preserves,” Augustus told him.

  “This is a lovely house and yard,” William said when they’d inspected everything short of the privy shed. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say we are very hopeful about this one.”

  Mr. Brown positively beamed. They were standing in the front yard again, Mr. Brown having locked up the house behind them.

  Augustus took William and Moss each by the arm. “May we confer for a moment, Mr. Brown?”

  “Of course. Should I wait in the carriage for you gentlemen?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Augustus waited for Mr. Brown to let himself out of the gate and go back to the waiting carriage before turning to Moss. “What do you think?”

  “It’s a lovely house.” Moss looked back at it. “And the gardens are more than I hoped for.”

  “It’s not too far from town, but far enough you’d have privacy,” William said.

  “Yes.” Moss paused for a long moment, seeming to struggle with something before he finally blurted out, “But this is a gentleman’s house. Mr. Brown was right; this is the kind of house a young lawyer or doctor like you would buy for himself and his family. I...I can’t.”

  “Do you want it? Would you be happy living here?” Augustus asked. “Stop thinking about whether you should own a house like this. We have the money to buy the house. The only thing you need to think about is if you want to.”

  Moss turned back towards the house, staring up at it. “I liked the parlor. I don’t need three bedrooms, but it’s not a ridiculous number to have. And the gardens are beautiful.”

  For a long moment, Moss stood unmoving, and then he nodded once and turned. “Yes. I want this one.”

  “All right, let’s tell Mr. Brown.” William held the gate for Moss and Augustus.

  ~*~

  A noise from downstairs in the front hall woke Augustus from deep sleep. For a second he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering if he’d dreamed it. Very pale, gray light of early morning was seeping through the curtains into the room. In the fireplace grate, coals cracked and settled.

  The noise came again. Footsteps in the hall, the murmur of voices.

  Augustus had rolled out of bed and tugged on his trousers before his mind fully caught up. He stuffed his feet into his boots and half tucked his shirttails into the waist of his trouser as he stepped out into the hall.

  He descended the stairs keeping his steps as light as he could.

  There was light coming from the parlor. Evidently the fire had been stoked and candles lit. He could make out voices by the time he got to the bottom of the stairs.

  One voice was too deep and low for Augustus to make out but the other was very clearly Moss’ voice, especially now that it was raised in anger.

  “You promised me; you gave me your word this would never happen. When I came into your employment, you specifically said I’d be protected from these sorts of allegations.”

  There was the low rumble of the other voice.

  “No.” Moss was almost shouting now. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it was like.”

  Then, Thornton’s voice. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been away when it happened, we could have intervened immediately.”

  Augustus couldn’t remain standing listening in the hall. He debated going back up to bed, but instead he opened the parlor door.

  Thornton stood in front of the hearth, still in uniform, not looking pleased. His attention was on a man in well tailored, if conservative, clothes who sat in the armchair facing the fire. A big man, not tall, but powerfully built. His hair was steel gray and beginning to recede from his heavyset face.

  Moss stood between the two, his back stiff, arms crossed over his chest.

  Thornton’s gaze snapped to Augustus the moment he entered the room. He frowned. “Doctor Hill.”

  “Corporal Thornton and—General Barlow is it?”

  The man in the armchair arched a brow. “Was it Thornton or Moss who told you about me?”

  “Neither. The cook mentioned you.”

  General Barlow snorted. “Of course. Ah well. If it were a great secret, I’d hardly be here. So.” His gaze swept up and down Augustus’ body. “You are the Doctor Hi
ll that has put all of us through so much trouble.”

  Moss shook his head, his whole body still stiff with tension. “He’s not so much caused trouble as done your job for you—him and Doctor Blackwood. I know you would have preferred if I’d remained in New York Hospital until Thornton came for me rather than involve outsiders, but I am grateful they acted as they did.”

  Augustus saw Thornton wince.

  For a long moment, Moss and Barlow faced off across the small space of the parlor, and then Barlow inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Moss is right. We are in your debt, Doctor Hill, along with Doctor Blackwood.”

  “You’re welcome,” Augustus said as Moss relaxed very slightly. “What about the situation back in New York? Have the newspapers gotten hold of Moss’ case?”

  “No, and nor will they. That, I’ve already made sure of.” Thornton’s countenance had slid back into stony blankness.

  “I am interested to know why the men we pay in the watch did not come to your aid.” Barlow sat heavily again and looked up at Moss, who spread his hands.

  “Some may have not known, or not wanted to risk themselves by acting, or believed I was getting what I deserved. But it’s indeed suspicious that no one tried to help.”

  By the fireplace, Thornton made a noise of disgust. “That’s the problem with paid informants, someone can always pay them more.”

  “Were you close to anything before you were arrested?” Barlow asked.

  Moss shook his head.

  “I was looking into a few things, rumors mostly, but there’s always rumors. A city election being rigged, an official taking bribes, that illegal slave trade business, some Wall Street banker in bed with someone he shouldn’t have been. Nothing serious, I thought. If I’d suspected I was in any kind of danger, I would have written. As it was...” He broke off and ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t suspect anything right up until the moment soldiers came banging on my door.”

  “I’m interested in whether it was Judge Howland’s own idea to have you confined in an asylum before a trial had even taken place,” Thornton said. “It’s all very convenient.”

  “If someone is behind this, they have moved against an agent of the United States government,” Barlow said. “I take that very seriously, as do my superiors. Thornton will find whoever did this and deal with them accordingly.”

  “Yes sir.” Thornton nodded smartly enough for it to seem like a salute.

  “Think about taking Lake on,” Moss said unexpectedly.

  Thornton turned to look down at him.

  “The—” His gaze flicked over to Barlow, and he swallowed whatever he was originally going to say. “The working man you were with?”

  “Yes.” Moss rubbed his chin. “He protected me and gave me a place to stay when I needed it. Even though he didn’t know me. I owe him. And I think he would make a good informant. If I were to continue working in New York, I would take him onto my payroll, and since you will be replacing me, you might want to think about adding him to yours.”

  Augustus remembered the contempt in Thornton’s voice when he’d talked about paid informers, but all Thornton said was, “I’ll consider it.”

  Barlow hauled himself to his feet again and took several steps to where Moss still stood. “Take some time, Henri, since you won’t be able to go back to New York anyway. Rest, enjoy the country.” He clapped Moss on the shoulder and turned back to Thornton and Augustus. “Now let us see if Mrs. Taylor will be willing to make us a pot of coffee.”

  CHAPTER 12

  ~

  THE CAB CAME TO A stop in front his apartments. William alighted from it and paid the driver.

  They’d spent the last few weeks in the countryside, finalizing the purchase of the house and ordering furniture, clothes, food, linens, and the other day-to-day necessities Moss would need. Most of what they’d ordered would take weeks or even months to be made, but it would be delivered when it was ready, and Moss had seemed fine with making do in the meantime.

  A lot of work went into starting a household completely from scratch. Moss didn’t have a family to lend or give him things; he didn’t have a community that might gift him with a bed or the necessary kitchen items. He just had Thornton, Barlow, and them. At least with Barlow involved, there was no shortage of money, and he’d lent Moss some furnishings for the house as well.

  Still, William planned on going back out to visit Moss in a few days with a trunk of as many of the smaller items as he could find in the city and some baskets of food stores.

  There was also the parcel tucked under his arm, wrapped in protective layers of brown paper. A few books on gardening, everything he could find at the bookshop he’d stopped at on his way home. It wasn’t much, not a library’s worth, but it would be a start.

  He unlocked the front door and made his way to his rooms.

  They had to get back to Doctor Russell’s collection soon. They’d already put it off for too long while settling Moss down in the country. Augustus had asked for a few days more, though, so he could wrap up his business with New York Hospital. William still had work to do on his article concerning blood transfusion.

  He lit the fire and put a kettle of water on before settling himself at his desk. He dipped his pen in the inkwell and began composing the draft of a letter he’d send to Doctor Blundell regarding some of the aspects of his experiments that hadn’t been included in his published accounts.

  When the kettle boiled, he paused to make himself a pot of tea and then went back to his letter.

  He was reading over his draft plus the first round of corrections, an empty cup by his left elbow, when Augustus entered the room.

  “How did you get in here?” William turned in his chair to look at him as Augustus hung up his hat and coat.

  “Your landlady likes me.” Augustus came to perch on the edge of the armchair closest to William’s writing desk. “More importantly, I have something I need to discuss with you.”

  William turned again so he could face Augustus directly. Augustus’ whole body radiated energy, although whether from excitement or nerves William couldn’t tell. Maybe a little of both.

  “You know I resigned from New York Hospital.”

  William nodded, and Augustus gripped at his own knee, fingers closing and loosening in the cloth of his trouser leg.

  “Did something happen?”

  Augustus shook his head. “Oh, no, it went fine. There are a few people who I think will genuinely miss working with me.”

  He smiled a little, and William smiled back.

  “The thing is, I sent a letter several weeks ago when I knew I wasn’t going to be able to go back to New York Hospitaljust, and I’ve received a reply.” He reached into his coat and drew out a slightly rumpled letter, one that had obviously been folded and unfolded many times before. Augustus unfolded it again now and spread it out on his knee, looking down at the words rather than at William.

  A cold knot formed in William’s stomach, his fingers closing hard around the arm of his chair as he waited.

  “It’s from Bellevue Hospital. Their medical director is leaving to start his own practice in Boston. They’ve offered me the position.”

  A little of the anxiety that had twisted at William’s insides lessened. Augustus wasn’t leaving. “That’s amazing. Are you considering taking the position?”

  Augustus laughed, although it sounded a little strained. “I am, God help me. You do know ‘medical director’ is a fancy way of saying I will be the only full-time salaried doctor running the place. I can employ another part-time physician and two interns. And that will be my entire staff for a hospital bigger than New York Hospital and specializing in emergency care and epidemic diseases.” His expression sobered, and he looked down at the letter again. “But I think I would be good there. Do the work.”

  “I think you will be good there as well,” William said, and Augustus looked back up at him.

  “There’s something else I need to discuss wi
th you before I say yes. The state Bellevue is in now is a disgrace. I went out yesterday to tour it, and it’s...” He shook his head. “...beyond bad. The nursing staff—if you can call them that—are completely untrained. There is no regulation, no standards of care or hygiene or order of any kind. Patients who should be housed in an asylum are allowed to wander free, mingling with vagrants the night watch brings in for God knows what reason, who, in turn, mingle with those who are actually physically ill. The entire place is appallingly filthy, and neither the servants nor the nursing staff seem to know when or even if the patients get fed.”

  Augustus paused to draw breath after this tirade. William sat quietly. He knew all this, of course. He’d seen the chaos and filth firsthand during the yellow fever epidemic and knew all the horrors Bellevue had to offer. But if anyone could bring a little bit of regimented order to that place it would be Augustus.

  “There will need to be many changes made, systems put in place and reformed, if Bellevue is to function as a modern hospital. And that will be on top of seeing to the cases that come through the door. Patients too injured, too poor, or truly too ill for New York Hospital to take them. I need someone I can trust, a physician whose sole responsibilities would be the day-to-day running of the hospital.” He looked up at William again. “I want to offer that position to you.”

  William drew in a breath and shook his head. “You know I’m not cut out to work in a hospital. Especially not Bellevue.” Just the idea of going back there made him feel a little sick.

  “You wouldn’t need to treat any of the patients. The interns and I could handle that. You’d be my chief of operations.” Augustus gave him a small tentative smile. “I know it would be difficult, and that you have your reasons for not wanting to go back to Bellevue, but you would be so good at it, William. The research you’ve been doing is remarkable. You think so creatively when it comes to medical issues but have the patients to do the study and the research to back it up. You care about the future of medicine and want to see it change and progress. But I can’t imagine you being taken in by passing medical fashion with no actual use. You collaborate well with others and can also lead when given the chance. You’re brilliant and meticulous and have knowledge of medicine and medical procedures, not just in this country but on the Continent, as well. All the skills you bring to handling medical collections would translate perfectly to this. Imagine bringing that knowledge to the day-to-day running of a hospital, to the training of a nursing staff. There is no one better suited to this work than you.”