Shapechanger's Birth

by Laer Carroll

  But suddenly Katherine said, eyes wide, "Is that why those underwater telegraph cables broke? The ones in the Atlantic? And the one under the Red Sea? They intruded on selkie territory?"

  Hah! Katherine believed her. But this was a complication neither Mary, Jane, nor Edith had thought of when they made up the selkie story.

  "No," Mary said. "We live in much warmer and shallower waters. They broke because —"

  "They broke because the cable builders were idiots! Or — at least that's what Bobbie says."

  Mary blinked. She found it hard to think of Sir Robert Kane as a Bobbie.

  "Very well, I'm convinced. But why tell me? Surely it's dangerous for anyone to know you're a selkie."

  Edith said, "Any attempted dissect-or of a selkie will quickly find himself the dissect-ee."

  Katherine looked thoughtfully at Miriam's claws.

  "Again, why tell me?"

  Edith said, "We want your help. Yes, yours, don't look puzzled. I know damned well a woman like you hasn't forgotten all she knew about botany. And has likely been keeping up on it despite your children and family and social duties.

  "I made a lot of promises to God while I was hurting," Edith said quietly. "That I would help others in pain, who were sick. So now that I'm in a position to, I've begun giving money to the College —"

  "Yes, to support medical research. Bobbie — Sir Robert — told me."

  "Yes. And I also am planning with your husband to start a technical institute at the College. There are more kinds of pain than from sickness. There's the pain of hunger, the despair of not knowing how you're going to make a living for yourself and those who depend on you ..."

  Edith had no need to pretend when she was saying this. She knew from bitter, bitter experience exactly what she was talking about.

  "This institute will generate jobs, directly and indirectly, for a lot of people —"

  "And incidentally make Edith a lot of money," said Mary dryly.

  "Yes, damn it! And the more money I have the more money I can give away. Though, 'give' is not quite the right word. I believe in investing , not charity." She said this with a good bit of force. Edith was as much an author of the institute idea as Mary was.

  Mary squeezed her shoulder. "I was only teasing, dear Edith."

  Edith gave her a brief smile then looked back at Katherine.

  "We have to start back to our hotel," Edith said, "to get ready for tonight. I'm sure you do too. We'll talk more tomorrow. But in brief, Miriam knows what causes the potato famines —"

  Mary had invented her selkie persona because of obscure urges that lead her gradually to its creation, like a sculptor carving a block of stone with more and more detail until fully revealing a shape hidden in the stone. Once fully formed, however, she'd realized that one of Ireland's legends come to life could convince humans who'd be skeptical of knowledge given by another human.

  Mary spoke up. "But I am not sure how the knowledge can be used by humans. I'm hoping that you and other botanists and biologists can find a way."

  Katherine was looking very interested. Hooked! Mary thought.

  But there was still one thing more detail to handle.

  Mary said, "You can tell your husband everything that happened here today. I will not get between the two of you.

  "However, I do not feel Sir Robert needs to know about me being a selkie, and I'm not going to do a show-and-tell for him.

  "If you want to tell him that Edith's poor aide Mary thinks she's a selkie named Miriam, fine. I don't care if he thinks I'm a little unbalanced. Edith, if asked, will admit I'm a little touched, but harmless.

  "Tomorrow I'm going to give you some detailed written information about the fungus which attacks potatoes. You can present this as pure speculation to anyone you wish. In fact, I want you to. You and anyone you work with will have to double-check it for yourselves, of course. Such is the nature of science. All I will have done is give you a head start."

  That evening the Kane's carriage pulled up before a three-story mansion. There was a canvas canopy sheltering the walkway to the entrance of the building from a mild but windy shower.

  The driver's aide dropped from the front seat and positioned a dismounting block. He lifted an umbrella to shield Lady Katherine from errant drops of rain slanting in from the side as he handed her down from the carriage. A pair of servants with umbrellas ran from the mansion's door to help shield the other two women.

  Katherine, then Edith, and lastly Mary hurried to and through the large double doors. Inside they stopped to straighten their garments. The two other women wore full skirts, Katherine's of sky-blue over a crinoline made of a dozen petticoats, Edith's glossy black silk over the hoops that were coming into fashion. The black looked plain from a distance but close up showed a glistening black floral embroidery. Edith also wore a dark veil.

  Mary was in her normal persona as Dame Edith's aide: Honorary Doctor Mary McCarthy. She wore a narrow skirt in the French style rather than the blooming monstrosities au courant today. It was a rich forest green made of velvet with a weave that gave it a subtle glitter, as if it were made of myriads of very tiny gemstones. The many-pleated skirt arced pleasingly from her narrow waist. She wore a loose long-sleeved short jacket of the same material over a blouse of Spring green. The blouse had a square-cut top that revealed a hint of her bosom, a daring return to the more revealing styles popular decades ago.

  Her red-gold hair shone richly in large curls, falling away high in back in a loose ponytail tied by shiny green ribbons which cascaded in company with her hair. Not for her the tight hair in a bun covered by pillbox hats or scarves common among the other guests.

  Nestled in her cleavage where it would catch every eye hung a large and obviously expensive emerald suspended on gleaming silver links. Earrings dangled from her ears in twinkling emerald spills.

  Unlike the pale alabaster much admired in polite society, her skin color was a light gold dusted with freckles only the tiniest shade darker than her skin. And of course she wore her usual Mary McCarthy face — large blue eyes, impertinent little nose, and luscious lips framed by a face of a contour perfect and fascinating.

  The ballroom they entered was high, already crowded, and illuminated by three chandeliers, a large one in the center of the ceiling and two smaller ones near each end of the elegantly paneled room. At the far end a low dais held an orchestra. On each side of the dais two staircases rose up to a balcony that ran around all four sides of the ballroom.

  Mary slowed. The musicians were playing a Mozart aria from Le nozze di Figaro . A slow piece, it seemed strange to hear it without singing. Indeed, without hearing Barbara singing it.

  A pang stabbed her breast: homesickness. Without thought she began singing very softly, "Voi che sapete che cosa amor ..."

  Edith jogged her elbow. Mary quit singing. Mrs. Kane stopped and looked at her in astonishment. Mary and Edith also stopped walking.

  "You sing beautifully!"

  This was true. Of course, all women of fortunate circumstance were expected to sing and play a pianoforte, or possibly a harp, but few of them ever became as good as professional performers. However, Mary had heard Barbara and other professional singers perform often enough that her shapeshifting ability had almost unconsciously adapted her vocal machinery to sing as well as they did.

  Edith expression was sardonic. "Oh, yes. It's only one of Mary's many accomplishments."

  Mary smiled back at Edith, teeth bared, then assumed a pose of embarrassment as she turned toward Mrs. Kane. "Oh, well ... Please, let's forget about it."

  Mary resumed walking. "Perhaps we should pay our respects to our host and hostess."

  Mrs. Kane inclined her head off to the side. "The Gascony's are our hosts for the evening. Let me introduce you." Edith and Mary followed her to a portly couple who looked remarkably alike despite their differences in clothing and sex, he in a shiny black formal suit and she in a huge purple and gold dress whose skirt was almost as wid
e as she was tall.

  Introductions said, the three women strolled further into the crowd toward the refreshment alcove. Perhaps a third of the way there a tall woman intercepted them. She had grey hair piled high, a hawk-like nose, and an elaborate dress all in shades of gold. With her were two younger women who resembled her enough to be daughters, one in light blue and the other in dark blue.

  "Lady Kane! How delightful to see you again! I trust you have been well." Her tone directly contradicted her words.

  Katherine inclined her upper body a moderate amount and received a regal nod in return. "Thankfully so, Madam. And you? And your delightful daughters?"

  "Oh, they're healthy as horses, of course." The two filly's did not seem pleased to be compared to animals. "I'm suffering from my eternal weakness of the lungs. And the flu going around laid me at death's door for a time. Not that my husband the Baronet was appreciative of this at all."

  This was intoned with a voice of great tragedy. Mary gave the woman a comprehensive glance and saw none of the symptoms of hair or flesh or stance to support the woman's claims of ill health. A deep but quiet inhalation brought into her lungs enough of the woman's scent for her to read the woman's biochemical data. Madam Whoever-She-Was was herself as healthy as a horse.

  "Oh, men! So self-involved, you know. But let me introduce you to my companions." Lady Kane stepped to the side and introduced Edith and Mary. Edith and the woman gave each other the head nod of equals, a Dame of the British Empire being the equal of a baronet's wife. Then she introduced Mary as Doctor Mary McCarthy.

  She did not mention that the degree was only honorary, an attempt by the Cork College medical faculty to sweeten Mary's disposition and coax her to give out more of Dame Edith's money. The faculty would eventually regret their award, for Mary had plans to make her medical doctorate real and official.

  After the two young women were introduced, the daughter in the dark dress, the older of the two, said "Doctor Mary McCarthy? Are you really a doctor?" Her mother gave the girl a quelling look which Miss Hermione ignored.

  Edith said, "Oh, yes indeed. Very talented, my Mary."

  The younger daughter, Daphne, recoiled in horror. "Oh, don't say you cut people up! "

  Mary laughed, a warm sound of good humor and affection. "Only if they really, really need it."

  "Don't be a goose, Daphne. I think it's splendid." The older daughter cast Mary an admiring glance.

  "Well, I think it's a disgrace! A woman being a doctor is quite against nature!" With that Madam Wife-of-the-Baronet decamped without giving courtesy to anyone.

  Before the two girls could follow Mary laid her hands on their arms. As she gave their immune systems a boost she whispered to them. "Don't worry about your mother's health. I assure you she's as healthy as a horse."

  Daphne gasped in horror and almost ran after her mother. Hermione snickered and curtseyed before she followed after.

  Katherine had a hand pressed to her mouth and was trying so hard to stifle laughter that her body quivered. When she could talk she gasped, "Now you've done it! In ten minutes, dear Mary, you will be notorious."

  "I certainly hope so. Shall we discover what the refreshments are?"

  However, it was more than a half hour before they could refresh themselves. The antics of the wife of Baronet Whoever-He-Was had not gone unnoticed. They were stopped twice by two other groups of ladies. The members of one group was discreetly curious. The other was the entourage of a fat woman who was a particular friend of Lady Kane. She was openly pleased at the Baronet's wife's discomfiture.

  They were not long at the refreshments table before yet another group of women approached them. Katherine and Edith left with them for a "sitdown" after assuring themselves that Mary wanted to stay for more refreshments.

  Soon she was joined by a burly Major in a red coat, ostensibly there to receive a fill-up of his glass. Glancing casually at Mary he saw an amused smile on her face as she gazed steadily back .

  "What, Major, no direct charge at the objective?"

  He laughed. "That can lead to defeat or painful victory, fair lady. Allow me to present myself." He had a craggy face but it improved when he smiled.

  He straightened, brought his heels together, and introduced himself as Major Eugene Keaton. Her own self-introduction surprised him.

  "Doctor? As in medical doctor?"

  "Just so, Major. And a surgeon. My specialty, actually."

  He looked at her closely. "You must be funnin' me. You're surely too young to have studied for a degree. And where would you have studied?"

  "I'm older than I look. But you're right. The faculty of Queen's College Cork merely give me an honorary degree." In a few sentences she laid out her story: that she was aide to Dame Edith and that the medical faculty had simply been trying to get on her good side.

  He still looked dubious when she was done, and none too happy that he had set his sights on a woman so immodest and crazy that she would actually accept such a honor, so dubious in a female.

  Before he could contrive to withdraw from the battlefield they were interrupted by another redcoat, taller and more slender.

  "Keaton! Monopolizing a beauty, I see! Fair lady. Not believing his lies, are you? Surely you'll suspend judgment till you've heard mine."

  The Major moved closer to Mary, obviously changing his mind to retire from the lists when a rival entered them.

  "Mistress McCarthy ...."

  She corrected him, but with a smile. "Doctor McCarthy."

  He accepted the correction and went on to make her known to the newcomer, Major Alex Tobin. The new suitor was equally skeptical of her profession but before the verbal scrimmage could be joined they were interrupted by the addition of a naval officer in a blue uniform. Just as the third set of introductions were made yet another naval officer joined them.

  "Oh, good. Now I've got two of each color. Thank you gentlemen, for providing me with matched sets." Laughter greeted that, and the fourth gentleman made his introduction.

  Conversation became general after that, Mary's claim to doctorhood being dropped in favor of thirty or so minutes of more or less subtle bragging by the four men.

  Mary kept silent, an apparently appreciative audience. Actually, she was struggling just a bit against an increased sensitivity of her nipples and groin. It had been too long since she'd had a lover. She wanted nothing more than to sling the most attractive of the men across her shoulder and gallop off to a secluded place to throw him down and straddle him.

  The image made her giggle. Fortunately it was near the end of a self-deprecating story by Major Tobin. And her laughter gave her enough respite from her sexual sensitivity to turn it off.

  When she saw Edith and Katherine circulating not too far away Mary caught and held Edith's eye. Guessing Mary's intent, Edith approached.

  "Gentlemen, here's my employer. I must bid you good evening. I hope I encounter you again. I know so few heroes such as you."

  Faced with the inevitable the men exchanged courtesies with Mary with good humored protests — although those of one of the naval men was more like grumbling. Mary curtseyed to them a second time and made her way to Edith.

  The flush from Mary's sexual arousal had not completely disappeared. It was not lost on Edith. She murmured, "So many handsome men."

  Mary majestically ignored her.

  In the next hour or so Mary met many women, a few of them accompanied by men. Her unique dress was commented on by several of the women. Mary gave the House of Bridget of Cork credit for it, saying that Bridget specialized in French styles. The men were more likely to focus on her "claim" to be a doctor, even though it was merely honorary.

  By the third time her qualifications were doubted, she was annoyed. That even an honorary degree being awarded her was such a scandal!

  She let herself get visibly angry. She grabbed the wrist of the stout man with a florid face who had been dismissive of her. She instantly read his body's self-knowledge, including its m
emory of past illnesses.

  "Sir, imagine how terrible it would be if I were a real doctor. Why, I might do this .... "

  She put on a show, tapping the inside of his wrist sharply a couple of times with the fingers of her free hand, then ostentatiously using that hand to count his pulse while he tried to pull his hand away from an unbreakable grip. She turned his wrist over and ostentatiously examined his fingernails, then released his hand and grabbed his ears. Turning his head from side-to-side, she leaned forward to observe his skin, eyes, ears, and hair from close up. He tried to get away from her but desisted at the pain this caused his ears. He was protesting loudly, to the discreet amusement of onlookers, when she let him go.

  "Sir, you have the gout. You really must cut out red meat, red wine, and shellfish. You need to lose some weight." She jabbed his soft belly with stiff fingers as she said this, not gently.

  "Your heart won't take much more if you don't lose weight and exercise. You must also stay away from women of loose virtue. Your body has barely recovered from the last time you had liaison with an infected woman. Also, your lungs ..."

  But by then he'd had enough and jerked his wife along with him as he fled the scene. Laughter, some less than discreet, followed him.

  "Dam-me, Doctor McCarthy, that was a fine show!" This from a tall, elderly man with a long snowy white beard and mustache. He had a wispy white-haired lady on his arm wearing an elegant grey silk dress.

  "Show? Sir, that was no show." She stepped toward him. "Shall I demonstrate with you?"

  Laughing, he waved a hand in the negative. "No, no, I'll take your word for it. I'll own that an honorary degree is quite, ah, honorable."

  This last demonstration brought a number of women flocking to her, despite the fact that Mary and Edith had made it clear that her doctorate was honorary. Though perhaps it was that inauthenticity which released their inhibitions. They could pretend that consulting with her was no more than a merry party game.

  She repeated her performance with each in a nearby alcove to give her patients privacy, asking clinical questions to give the appearance of conventional medical practice. Most of the women were reasonably healthy, though she had to intervene in a couple of cases with more than a boost to their body's innate healing power.