by Lynn Morris
“I need new measurements,” Brad said imperturbably.
“No you don’t. I’m just the same as I was last time I was measured!” Shiloh said indignantly.
“You aren’t,” Brad argued. “Just look at this,” he said, ducking around Shiloh to point accusingly at his shoulders. “You see that armhole seam?”
Shiloh craned to look over his shoulder. “No, I can’t see it, Brad,” he said with exaggerated slowness. “It’s behind me.”
“Excuse me, Shiloh, I was talking to Mr. Jauncy,” Harrigan said with frigid politeness. “See it, Mr. Jauncy?”
Jauncy moved very close to Shiloh, stood on tiptoe, and squinted at the seam where the sleeve was sewn onto the jacket. He stepped back, looked at Brad Harrigan with open distress, and said in a dire tone, “I can see approximately one-sixteenth of an inch of the stitch. The seam is indeed loosening, sir.”
“Huh? What does that mean?” Shiloh said, still trying to see his back.
“It means that your chest measurements, or perhaps your upper arms, are larger than they were two years ago when I last measured you, sir,” Brad said with awful sternness.
“Two years? It’s been that long?” Shiloh said guiltily. “Well, yeah, I’ve been doing some physical training. I may have gained an inch or so in my chest, but I don’t have time for measurements right now, Brad. No, PJ, stop your squawkin’. I’ve got a luncheon engagement with my father-in-law at the Century Club, and I’m not going to be late. The reason we’re here, Brad,” he said, firmly dismissing Jauncy’s protestations, “is that I want you to do some things for PJ. Lemme see…two suits, four shirts, two waistcoats. A pair of nice cuff links, half-a-dozen ties, a dozen handkerchiefs.”
“Of course, sir, I’ll be happy to,” Brad said.
Shiloh turned to Jauncy. His mouth was open as if he were a fish gasping for air. He clamped it shut, then swallowed hard. “Er—sir—may I have a word?”
“Sure, PJ.” Shiloh stepped aside with him, and the tailor discreetly went to the rack of men’s coats and began brushing them.
“Sir, I truly appreciate the magnanimity of your…your offer, but it would take me an unconscionable amount of time to repay—”
Shiloh held up his hand and shook his head. “No. This is not a loan, PJ. It’s your Christmas gift from me and the doc. That’s why I came uptown today, you know. After lunch I’m going over to Lord and Taylor’s and get some things for Sketes and Fiona. The doc told me what to get for all of you. She said you needed this and would appreciate it more than a gold watch or some kinda cologne or something like that.”
Jauncy grabbed Shiloh’s hand and shook it hard. “Sir, I-I don’t know what to say—”
“PJ, you’ve already earned this and more. You’ve been a real help to me and the doc—and Sketes and Fiona too. Okay? Don’t worry about it. Merry Christmas. A little early.” Shiloh headed toward the door.
Jauncy called out, “Thank you, sir.”
“Welcome,” Shiloh called over his shoulder.
“And you just drop back by here after lunch, Shiloh,” Brad said, “because I’ve got to take new measurements! Right?”
Shiloh mumbled something inarticulate as he escaped out the door.
Brad and Jauncy exchanged knowing looks. “Don’t worry, sir,” Jauncy said sternly. “I shall certainly ensure his return.”
“Good,” Brad rasped. “He needs a firm hand with his tailoring, Mr. Jauncy. He’s lucky to have you to see to it. Now, let’s get right to work.”
Part IV
The Day of Trouble
The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble;
the name of the God of Jacob defend thee.
Psalm 20:1
Seventeen
True Love Prevailed
Cheney raised the shutter of the hackney coach. Shannon, sitting somewhat ludicrously upright beside her, poked her head out the opened window. Lying decorously on the floor of the cab, Sean looked reproachfully up at Shiloh, who was seated on the other side of the coach.
“Aw, c’mon,” Shiloh grumbled, and Sean scrambled up on the seat, his big wolf’s grin shining. Shiloh raised the shutter on his side, and Sean stuck his head out. “All four of us are probably gonna catch grippe and pneumonia,” Shiloh complained to Cheney.
“But they like the fresh air,” Cheney argued. “See? They’re smiling.”
“Doc, these dogs do not smile.”
“They most certainly do. Shannon? Pretty girl, smile. See there? Jauncy says it’s the wolfhound’s famous grin. They all do it.”
Whether or not the dogs were grinning, it was certainly hard not to smile watching them. They were a funny-looking pair. Being puppies, they still had a soft, short coat. Later it would lengthen and turn wiry, with a rather cottony undercoat. Their coats were cream colored with a faint pinkish cast that would grow into a duskier rose tint as they grew. Their heads seemed much too large for their skinny bodies and were a dark charcoal gray, particularly the muzzle and the tips of the ears, which made both their long muzzles and flapping ears seem even larger.
But it was their expressions that were so fascinating and endearing. Their large lustrous sad eyes melted even the hardest hearts—as Sketes’s had been, horrified as she was with the gangrels tracking into her spotless house. But after being subjected to such sincere melancholy charm, she had fallen in love as surely as Cheney and Fiona had.
But then again the clown features came out at odd times. Their long ears often flopped right across their round heads, and with their solemn expressions, the sight made even Jauncy laugh. Once both of Shannon’s ears had somehow flopped across her head at the same time, and Jauncy, Sketes, and Fiona had been obliged to stop their tasks, they had laughed so hard.
Now Shiloh looked affectionately at the dogs, knowing that they most certainly did have a grin, and scoffed, “Jauncy says so, does he? So now he’s the expert on Irish wolfhounds.”
“Actually it’s his brother Geoffrey who’s the expert. He’s the head gamekeeper on the Rawlings’s estate in Yorkshire,” Cheney said with a schoolmarm’s air. “Geoffrey says that Irish wolfhounds make good house dogs. They’re easily trained. Also he says that they make good watchdogs—they’re very intelligent and devoted to their families—but they are definitely not good guard dogs, because they’re too sweet-natured. But they are an ancient noble breed.”
Shiloh watched Shannon, her head out the window, gasping at the icy air, her funny ears flapping noisily. And Sean’s tongue had gotten stuck out one side. Probably it was so cold he couldn’t feel it. Shiloh burst out laughing. “Ancient and noble! Doc, I hate to tell you this, but these dogs look like pure fools! Especially Shannon. How’d Fiona ever get those bows on her ears? Household cement?”
Cheney sniffed. “Fiona could make bows stay on a bald man’s head if she chose.”
“And her new stockings,” Shiloh guffawed. “Pink? To match the bows? Even Sean’s brown ones have those little green hoodoos at the top.”
“Those are called tassels, sir,” Cheney said acidly. “They’re just so you can tighten the drawstring to fit. Sketes knitted them especially for Sean and Shannon, and I think they’re lovely. You know they need to keep their paws covered for a few days until the chilblains heal.”
“But, Doc, knitted stockings with tassels? I coulda wrapped their paws—at least Sean’s. He’s embarrassed.”
“He’s not. He loves them. And so do you.”
“Okay, Doc. You’re the boss. But I swear I never would’ve believed you’d be so foolish over two mutts. I didn’t think you were the type.”
“That just shows you don’t know everything,” Cheney said smugly. “And besides, I’m not the one who hired a hansom cab to bring them home and fed them roast beef and gave them a bath with my best French-milled rose-scented soap.”
“They smelled fishy,” Shiloh said mildly.
Cheney put her arms around Shannon’s neck and buried her face in her fur. “They don’t now,” she said in
a muffled voice. “They smell good. Warm and a little bit doggie, but clean-scented like a brisk wind in fall.”
Shiloh watched her affectionately. “You know, Doc, you look extra beautiful today. You look bright and sparkling and happy. Are you happy?”
She was a little surprised at the bluntly simple question, but then she smiled. Shiloh was a plain-speaking man, a rare quality she found extremely endearing. “I am happy,” she answered softly. “Very happy.”
“Me too,” he said. “Very happy.”
The tender mood was broken when Sean pulled in his head and shook it briskly. His ears flapped with a noise like a windmill, and both Cheney and Shiloh burst out laughing. He regarded them with sad eyes. Shiloh touched his nose with one finger. “It’s frozen solid,” he grunted. “Silly old dog, freezing your nose. Next thing you know, Sketes is gonna be knitting you a nose cap.”
“She and Fiona had big plans to go to A.T. Stewart’s and buy some wool to knit mufflers for them,” Cheney said, her eyes alight. “I believe Sean is to have blue and Shannon red. And you think I’m foolish over them.” She rubbed Shannon’s neck, then gently pulled her inside. “Here, girl, you must be half frozen too. I think that’s enough sightseeing for one day.” Cheney leaned across the dog to lower the shutter. Shannon settled down in the seat with her head on Cheney’s lap. Sean, who was just a bit too big to fit on the seat comfortably, got back down on the floor, grumbling like an old man.
“Now tell me again what you’re doing this afternoon,” Cheney ordered.
“I’m going to stay at Roe’s and visit awhile,” Shiloh answered obediently. “Then I’ve got to go to my tailor’s, the bank, and the orphanage. Hope this cabby’s got all day to chauffeur us around.”
“Mm,” Cheney murmured. Then with elaborate casualness she said, “Why don’t you just leave the dogs at Roe’s? I’m sure James and John will look after them for a couple of hours. Then I’ll come get them, and we’ll go for a walk. I could take them to the office, or maybe they could even stay down in the lab.”
Hiding his amusement, Shiloh asked, “Are you sure, Doc? I don’t mind taking them with me.”
“No, no, I don’t mind either,” Cheney said quickly. “It’ll be better for them, anyway, than riding in a hackney coach all over Manhattan.”
“Probably so,” Shiloh agreed solemnly. “Since they’re such delicate, sensitive, noble creatures and all. By the way, Doc, Shannon slobbered on your skirt there.”
Cheney patted Shannon’s head, and she rolled her eyes to look up at Cheney. “Don’t listen to him, Shannon, he’s such a man. Slobber, indeed. Don’t you worry. I’ll make him leave you with me so you won’t have to ride all over town and get all tired and be so cold. It’ll be nice and warm at Roe’s, and you can take a nap, and—”
“Women.” Shiloh looked down at Sean. “You’ll ride with me, won’t you, boy?”
And so he did. When Shiloh got ready to leave Roe’s, Sean jumped into the coach with him and settled down onto the floor as casually as if it were his own cab. Shannon, lying close by the potbellied stove, lifted her head to watch, yawned, then lay back down and closed her eyes. Standing by the stove with a hot cup of coffee, talking to Mr. Jack and Old Mr. Roe, Cheney looked up at Shiloh and winked.
And so true love prevailed.
****
Cheney was still dawdling along, visiting with Mr. Jack and Mr. Roe, when she saw Dr. Pettijohn striding quickly by and turning up Seventh Avenue. Startled, she looked at the watch hanging from a gold chain on her waistcoat. It was only 1:45. Cheney thought darkly that Dr. Pettijohn shouldn’t be leaving so soon on a Friday—she had already seen four people go into the Emergency and Dispensary entrance. But then she realized that he had still been wearing his coverall, so he must simply be going somewhere for luncheon or to a meeting. Or he might simply be taking a walk. Cheney often did that during a particularly wearing shift. Relaxing, she turned her attention back to Mr. Roe.
“—with the large breed dogs, you’ll find,” he was saying. “Isn’t that so, Mr. Jack?”
“I couldn’t tell you about dogs, large breed or no,” he admitted. “Now if they was snooty high-bred, high-steppin’ horses, like that Romulus and Remus, I could tell you much more than you’d need to know. But not dogs. Miss Irene never did hold to dogs much.”
Cheney finished the last sip of her coffee. “I suppose I’d better report in. There’s a lady with four children going into the dispensary. Mr. Roe, shall I take Shannon with me?”
The old man looked down at the dog near his feet and chuckled. “Looks like you’d have to carry her, Dr. Duvall. See, she’s just like a big baby, all tuckered out and sound asleep. If you’re of a mind, you’re welcome to leave her here. We’ll look after her until you decide where to house her while you’re a-doctoring.”
Relieved, Cheney said, “Oh, thank you, Mr. Roe, I would like some time to see about a place for her down in the laboratory and make some arrangements. Still, do you have anything to feed her? I could go ask Mrs. Tuttle if she has something in the kitchen.”
Mr. Roe sucked his teeth for a moment, then said thoughtfully, “Andrew’s dogs, now they like oats mashed with a bit of hot milk and treacle. Not for every day, you understand—they’d get too fat and slow—but for special treats when it’s particular cold. That may do the little girl.” He prodded Shannon gently with his foot. She didn’t stir.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Roe. Now I won’t have to worry about her at all,” Cheney said gratefully. “I’ll be back later this evening to check on her and maybe take a walk, if possible. Thank you again! Good-bye, Mr. Jack!” She waved and hurried out the paddock door to the stone walk where a feeble elderly gentleman, assisted by a woman, was making his way into the hospital. Cheney hurried, coming up to help them, holding the door open and introducing herself as they made their way inside. She helped get them settled in the dispensary, then went to the nurses’ station to speak to Mrs. Flagg. The dispensary had been very busy, but Dr. White and two nurses had it well in hand.
“Mostly influenza,” Nurse Flagg told Cheney. “Dr. White does very well in the dispensary, no matter how busy it gets.”
Cheney nodded. “Very good, Mrs. Flagg. What time will Dr. Pettijohn return?”
In a neutral tone she answered, “He won’t be back today, Dr. Duvall. He said that he had a very pressing personal matter to attend to.”
Cheney frowned but realized that this was really not much different from the other doctors trading off-duty hours; after all, she had asked Cleve to cover for her on several occasions when she and Shiloh went out. Quickly she said with a smile, “It must have been a pressing matter indeed, because I saw him leave, still wearing his coverall. Oh, well, I’ve forgotten a time or two myself. Speaking of which, I need to get mine on and get to work. I’m going to do rounds on the women’s ward, Mrs. Flagg, in case anyone needs me.”
Cheney first went to the private suite to visit Annabeth Forbes. When she had checked in she had been pale, her pretty face drawn looking and thin. Today she looked better. She was a very pretty woman of twenty-five, with a blooming complexion, thick glossy hair of a rich chestnut brown, and lovely big dark eyes with long thick lashes. She was a tiny woman, and this baby seemed to be a rather hefty size, which caused Cheney some concern. But otherwise Annabeth seemed to be doing well.
“I saw Annalea today,” Cheney told her as she checked her over. “She’s doing very well, Annabeth. And now she is evidencing differential symptoms of rubella, so I’m glad I went ahead and isolated you from her. I know it’s hard on you both, but I assure you it’s absolutely necessary.”
“For how long?” she asked worriedly.
“The general rule is at least four days, no more than seven,” Cheney answered. “But considering the risks to your pregnancy, I would recommend at least ten days. I’ll visit Annalea every other day to make certain that the disease is running its regular course, and I’ll keep you informed.”
Annabeth smil
ed and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “To tell you the truth, I’m enjoying the rest and pampering more than I would have thought possible. At home I have every luxury and a large staff, but running a household and attending to a husband and child can be tiring sometimes.”
Cheney patted her hand. “It certainly can, and I can tell that you’ve benefited from the rest. Or maybe from the peace and quiet. Annalea is a darling, but she certainly is an energetic child. Besides being angry with me for taking you away, she was also angry that I wouldn’t let her go to the park with Nurse. And then my husband, who has medical training and certainly does know better, came upstairs to the nursery, scooped her up, whirled her around, and told her he was going to take her outside to see our new dogs. And there is Annalea, all over spots! Of course I had to be the villain and say no—to both of the children, Annalea and Shiloh. She’ll probably never forgive me.”
“But she will,” Annabeth said softly. “Both Mason and I tell her the story of how you and Shiloh saved her. We’ve turned it into an adventure story, something like a fairy tale, with all the terror edited out, of course. But we want her to remember it all of her life. And by the way, Dr. Duvall, thank you again. Thank you for saving Annalea’s life and now for saving this baby’s life. You’ve been a blessing to our family ever since the first time we met you. Mason and I will not forget.”
“You’re very welcome, Annabeth,” Cheney said simply. “I’ll see you again after dinner.”
Cheney next went to Mevrouw de Sille’s room. She was asleep, and Cheney didn’t want to awaken her, so she merely stepped close to her bed to listen to her breathing. It was labored, and she still had heavy congestion, but she seemed to be sleeping soundly. As Cheney left the room she reflected, I know I can smell whiskey. I didn’t know Mevrouw was a drinker, but she must be. There’s no mistaking that liquor smell.
Next she visited Cassandra Carteret. She wasn’t feeling bad, other than the discomfort of the shingles, but she was always a little fretful on Kitty Kalm’s days off, so Cheney stayed and talked to her awhile. Cassandra was a longtime patron and member of the New York Historical Society, so Cheney asked her about the inscription on the pediment above the front door.