CHAPTER
3
MICHAEL WASN’T ENTIRELY SURE how he came to consciousness. Through the haze he sensed a rustling, as if someone were moving nearby. But even that whisper of sound made his head throb. Keeping his eyes closed, he inhaled. In that moment, he knew where he was. He had stayed the night at his sister and brother-in-law’s house before, and their sheets had an unmistakable scent of lavender and lye.
His nose itched, finally forcing him to move. He reached up with his right hand to scratch the itch, but somehow knocked himself in the face instead. Letting out a grunt of pain, he opened his eyes to discover that his hand was swathed in bandages, his third and fourth fingers held straight by a splint. He stared at them, his brain unable to decipher what his eyes were taking in.
“Oh ho, you’re awake,” said a cheerful voice.
Not entirely sure if he could move, and not much willing to attempt it, Michael tipped his head ever so slightly toward the voice, just enough to see his brother-in-law standing to the right of the bed.
With a thumb and forefinger from each hand tucked into his waistcoat pockets, David beamed genially at Michael. He always had the air of a kindly uncle, even though he was only ten years older. “How are you feeling?”
Michael grimaced. Everything hurt. “Like I’ve been trampled by a horse.”
“Horsepower is more accurate,” David replied with a smile.
Now it came back to him. He’d been in the train. Standing up to give Corinna a cigarette. At the memory of his sister, he moved sharply, despite the pain it caused, trying to sit up. “Corinna! Is she all right?”
David placed a gentle hand on his chest, coaxing him back down. “Don’t fret yourself. She and Miss Maynard came out unscathed, although you are very much the worse for wear.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” Michael relaxed back into the pillows, relieved to know his sister was safe.
David went to the door and opened it, murmuring a few words to a servant who had apparently been standing vigil in the hallway.
“What . . . happened, exactly?” Michael asked, once David had returned to the bedside. His few memories of the event were split into unintelligible fragments.
“You don’t remember anything?” David pulled a narrow wooden chair close to the bed and sat down. The chair squeaked as he leaned forward, his face level with Michael’s.
Michael started to shake his head but was stopped by a sudden sharp pain to his neck. “No,” he murmured instead. “The last thing I remember was standing up to hand Corinna—”
He stopped midsentence, aware of his promise not to tell David about her smoking.
“You were handing her a cigarette,” David supplied. He held up a hand to stop Michael from protesting. “I know all about it. She thinks I don’t, and that’s a fiction I indulge her. I’m not thrilled that she has acquired this habit, but after thirteen years of marriage, I know where it is best not to challenge her.” He gave a smile and a dismissive shrug. “Do you remember anything after that?”
Michael closed his eyes, dredging up what memories he could. “A sensation like a hundred knives being thrust into me.”
He reached up again, this time with his left hand, which was uninjured. His neck was swathed in bandages as thoroughly as his right hand was. For that matter, so was his head.
“You look like you’ve been through a battle rather than a railway accident,” David remarked, tilting his head to observe him critically. “Quite appalling, actually.”
“Good to know,” Michael returned dryly. He tried to give a facetious grin, but even that hurt too much.
“So that’s all you remember?”
“At that point, I mercifully blacked out from the pain. Did Corinna give you any details?”
“Oh yes. She filled me in thoroughly. There was a collision in the tunnel. The train ahead of yours had stopped, and the driver hadn’t had time to set the warning signal in the passage. The conductor of your train applied the brakes as hard as he could. In the process, the train derailed and threw you against the window.”
“Was anyone else hurt?”
“There were other injuries, to be sure, but yours took the prize.”
This did not reassure Michael the way David had clearly intended. “There was another woman in our carriage—do you know what happened to her?”
“Indeed I do. She tended to your wounds. You would have bled to death, except that she knew how to close up your artery.”
Michael might have thought David’s statement an exaggeration, but the searing pain in his neck seemed to corroborate it. “She was reading a medical journal. Is she a nurse? Is that how she knew what to do?”
“Corinna asked her the same thing. The woman said that not only was she a nurse, but she’s also in training to become a doctor!”
The tone of David’s voice showed how perfectly aware he was of the irony of the situation. There was only one place in England where women could be trained as doctors, and Michael was working for a client who was trying to put it out of business. The powerful Earl of Westbridge was suing one of the lecturers at the school for libel. There were more factors in the case, but the earl’s goal was to shut the place down entirely. This was the most important lawsuit Michael had ever worked on, and winning it would be a major advancement in his career.
Michael swallowed, licking his dry lips. “You’re saying the woman who helped me is a student at the London School of Medicine for Women?”
“That appears to be the case.”
“Did Corinna get the woman’s name or any other information about her?”
“I don’t believe so. She was focused on getting you out of danger. As soon as you’d gotten through surgery, she insisted on bringing you here. Since then, our own Dr. Hartman has been tending to you. He was quite impressed with the emergency care that young lady gave you. She probably saved your life.”
David launched into a further description of the scene. Michael would never have believed any of it, were it not for the very real evidence of his wounds.
That he had been unconscious through it all, his body carried by strangers through the chaos of the station, was the most unsettling part. He disliked not being in control of any situation, much less having his fate determined by others. At least Corinna had been there, watching out for him. He was grateful for that. As for the woman who had been so fortuitously in the carriage with them—and who was also a student at the medical school—Michael couldn’t help but think this was a joke foisted upon him by the fates.
“Where is Corinna?”
“She was lying down, but I’ve sent the footman to tell her you’ve come ’round.”
The bright sunlight visible through the windows indicated it was around midday. Michael had never known Corinna to be the sort of person to take naps. “Is she unwell?”
“Oh, she’s quite well. But Dr. Hartman says that, given her condition, we cannot be too careful.”
Condition? Now Michael did sit up, and he didn’t care what it cost him to do so. Had she received some sort of injury after all? He turned to look at his brother-in-law, but David had a broad smile on his face.
“David, what are you talking about?”
“Ah, here she is now,” David said, as the door opened and Corinna walked in. “We can tell you together.” He took Corinna’s hand and drew her to Michael’s side. “When the doctor was checking her over, he made a most excellent discovery. There will be a new addition to this home come July.”
There was no mistaking what he meant. Michael immediately turned his gaze to Corinna. Now that he was looking for it, he saw that her midsection was wider, not her usual slim figure. His gaze lifted to her face, expecting to see joy there—or at least pride. Instead, she looked more pinched and drawn than he could ever remember.
“Is everything all right?” he asked anxiously. “Is there anything we should be worried about?”
“Nothing like that,” Corinna returned. “I’m fine.”
“No, indeed,” said David. “Your sister is as healthy as a horse.”
Corinna shot him a sour glance. “What a terrible analogy.”
“I’m sorry, my love.” David gave her hand a kiss. “You know I couldn’t think any more highly of you—especially now.”
Corinna tensed, but she made an effort to smile. “We are very happy, of course,” she said to Michael. “But how are you?” Pulling out of David’s grasp, she sat in the chair by Michael’s bed. She laid a hand on his forehead, as though he were suffering from fever and not a cracked skull.
“I won’t deny I feel pretty beat up at the moment.”
“Dr. Hartman said you would pull out of it, but you still had us very concerned. And of course, Miss Maynard has been positively beside herself with worry. The sight of you on the floor of the carriage, with all that blood . . . I believe she was only half a step away from hysteria.”
Michael was trying to take in this information, but he was still thinking about Corinna’s news. He realized something that at least partially explained her lack of enthusiasm. “Did David say the baby was due in July?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So Lady Amberley’s ball . . .”
He knew immediately from her expression that this was the answer. Her eyes had a gleam of suppressed tears. “I will not be attending.”
Michael felt the disappointment behind her words. The invitation to this event was a prize Corinna had coveted for years. And now she would not be able to go. He bet that Corinna had suspected before the accident that she was pregnant but had been denying it to herself, unable to come to terms with it for this very reason.
David gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ve told her there’s always next year. They’re bound to invite us again. And of course, attendance at a mere party does not compare with the joys of starting a family.”
Poor David. He meant well, but those were not the words to console Corinna. Michael could only hope she would feel differently once she became a mother.
Corinna stood up. “I will go and get some hot broth made up for you. Dr. Hartman said you should try to eat something once you came around. I’ll also dispatch a note to bring him here—I know he’ll want to see you.”
“Thank you, Corinna. For everything.” He did his best to give her some solace with those few words. He could see her absorb his meaning and give a small nod of acknowledgment. Then she hurriedly left the room.
“I will admit this is a surprise,” Michael said once Corinna had gone. After thirteen years, it had looked as though the Barkers were destined to remain childless.
“It was long odds,” David admitted. “Corinna doesn’t allow me to . . . be as affectionate to her as often as I might like.”
Michael gasped, then coughed to cover it. The last thing he wanted to know about was the particulars of his sister’s private life.
David didn’t notice; he was too buoyed by happiness. “Midsummer seems the perfect time of year for a baby’s arrival.”
“Corinna seems less than excited at the prospect,” Michael said. “Do you suppose there is more to it than her disappointment at missing the Amberleys’ ball?”
“I expect that’s just a bit of trepidation about childbirth. Women don’t have it easy in that regard, do they? But with all the advances in medicine, I told her there’s nothing to worry about. We’ll make sure she has the very best doctor.”
The very best doctor.
Michael realized he hadn’t asked Corinna for more details about the woman who’d helped him on the train. He would do that as soon as he could. After all, she had saved his life. But he had to admit he’d been intrigued by her even before the accident. She’d had an air of confidence and independence that Michael found refreshing. Her unadorned clothing had only accentuated, rather than minimized, how attractive she was. Who was she, and what would make her want to delve into such a formidable field as medicine? Despite all that was going on with the lawsuit against the medical college, if Michael could see this woman again, he wanted very much to do so.
Julia sat reading the newspaper in the spacious parlor of the town home that served as housing for the students at Queen’s College.
In another part of the room, four students sat studying together, throwing out questions and answers from their textbook on natural science. Julia barely noticed them. She leaned over the newspaper spread out before her on the table, carefully scanning each column.
There was a long article describing the accident on the Underground and its aftermath, but there was no further information about those who’d been taken to the hospital.
She sighed, pushing away the paper and leaning back in her chair. Lisette Blanco sailed through the door, moving quickly as she always did. Half French and half Spanish, and only five feet tall, Lisette was a continual blur of energy. She made a beeline for Julia’s table and plopped into the chair opposite her. Frowning, she pointed at the newspaper. “Latine legitur, non quidem hodie.”
Julia looked at her askance, still wrapped up in her concerns over Michael Stephenson and in no mood to translate Latin.
Her withering look did nothing to daunt Lisette, who assumed Julia had not understood her. “I said, ‘Shouldn’t you be working on noun declensions rather than reading the newspaper?’”
“I’m trying to find information about the man I helped after the accident on the Underground yesterday.”
Lisette’s disapproval was wiped away by eager interest. “You were there? You must tell me what happened!”
In her excitement, Lisette spoke loudly enough to catch the attention of the other students in the parlor. They stopped their conversation and looked at Julia with curiosity.
Julia told them what had happened on the Underground. One of the students looked shocked when Julia spoke of taking the first-class carriage without a proper ticket. Lisette, however, never batted an eyelash. In fact, she gave an approving nod. When Julia told them about the accident and what she’d done to save Michael, Lisette shouted, “Bravo! Now I understand why you expected to read about it in the paper. You saved that man’s life!”
“I’m not interested in personal acclaim. I just want to know what happened to him.” She picked up Michael Stephenson’s card, which was lying on the table. “I have his card, at least. He’s a barrister at Gray’s Inn. I’m thinking of making inquiries there.”
“A barrister?” Lisette plucked the card from Julia’s hand. Her eyebrows flew up as she read it. She extended the card with a look of revulsion, as though it were one of the more foul-smelling specimens they’d been studying in natural sciences. “This is the man whose life you saved yesterday?”
It came out like an accusation. “Yes,” Julia replied, startled at Lisette’s tone. She didn’t point out the obvious splotches of blood on the card.
Lisette dropped the card on the table in disgust. “Do you realize this man is one of the prosecutors in Dr. Tierney’s libel suit?”
Julia’s mouth dropped open in surprise. She knew about the lawsuit, of course. One of the lecturers at the medical school, Dr. Tierney, had spoken at a public rally to repeal the Contagious Diseases Acts. This law directed policemen to arrest prostitutes in ports and army towns and force them to be checked for venereal disease. If the women were found to have any diseases, they were to be placed in a locked hospital until cured. The purpose of the acts was to prevent the weakening of the armed forces through the spread of venereal disease, but in reality they placed terrible burdens on women. Dr. Tierney had stated at the rally that the reason the Earl of Westbridge was so adamant in support of the acts was because his own son had died of syphilis contracted while serving in the army. The earl vehemently denied this claim and brought libel charges against Dr. Tierney and the medical college. The amount he was seeking in damages would ruin the school.
Julia picked up the card and scanned it again. She raised her eyes back to Lisette. “I thought the prosecuting attorney was a Mr. Tamblin.�
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“Mr. Stephenson shares law chambers with Mr. Tamblin and is assisting him. He interviewed several of us who were at the rally.”
“He interviewed you?”
“Oh yes. Asked all sorts of questions about what exactly Dr. Tierney said.” Lisette pulled open her reticule and withdrew a card from it. “He even left his address in case we should think of more information to bring to him! Such conceit these men have.” She brandished the card. It was identical to the one Julia had—minus the bloodstains. “All that money and trouble they’re costing the school, trying to keep women from practicing medicine. I wonder what he thinks now—if they even told him it was a female medical student who helped him.” Her eyes lit up with amused excitement. “We ought to go to his chambers and confront him about it—we and all of the medical students!”
“I don’t think he’s there. I went to the hospital this morning, but they told me he’d already been discharged and that his sister took him to her house. I have no idea where she lives.”
Colleen Branaugh, another of their fellow boarders, said, “I daresay it wouldn’t be difficult to find her address. She’s married to Mr. David Barker, one of the wealthiest men in Kensington. Although it’s ‘new money,’ which is supposed to make it somehow less real.”
“Money is money,” another of the women chimed in, to which everyone nodded their heads in agreement.
“And how do you know so much about Mr. Stephenson’s sister?” Lisette inquired.
“Mr. Stephenson interviewed me, too,” Colleen admitted. “And I was struck by how handsome and personable he was, despite the fact that he’s working on this lawsuit. After all, barristers can’t always pick their clients, can they? So naturally I wanted to find out more about him.”
“Naturally,” Lisette repeated with caustic flair. “Colleen Branaugh, why are you searching for a husband? Would you give up a life you can build for yourself?”
The Heart's Appeal Page 3