The Five Step Plan

by Elizabeth Welsford

  The gossip didn’t bother him. Not any more. A few months ago he would have been mortified to hear such tales bandied about in public like that, but it all seemed so frivolous to him now.

  The church marm stepped out of the way, and Dr. Whitcraft inhaled as he caught a glimpse of the bride for the first time. Miss Faffle was a blushing vision dressed in a blue and white gown borrowed from Mrs. Minnock. It billowed out and back like a ship’s sail as she walked toward him, smiling brighter with each step. Her hair had been neatly collected, wound and dotted with daisies, and her cheeks blushed rosy-red from the staggering heat of the church. She looked positively angelic.

  “Oh, Miss Faffle,” he breathed, surprised at the paternal pride rising from his breast. “How wonderful! Don’t you make a most lovely bride!”

  ****

  Constable Fettle beamed as Dr. Whitcraft delivered his bride to the altar. When the doctor turned to make his way back to his seat, the eyes of the entire congregation followed him, measuring his every step with breathless attention. He swallowed hard, the fodder of so much bawdy talk in London’s high and low circles alike. He tried to appear nonchalant when he slid into the pew next to Mrs. Minnock who dabbed at the corners of her eyes with his handkerchief.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed that you’d cry,” he whispered.

  She sniffed. “I’m just so pleased for her…and relieved. It all could have gone so wrong and look how happy she is now.”

  Miss Faffle was happy, deliriously so. She gazed adoringly into the eyes of Mr. Fettle. The preacher droned on and on about the sacred institution of marriage. Even her mother had forgiven her. The woman sat proudly in the first row, sporting a giant mum on her chest, nodding in agreement with each of the preacher’s cautions.

  Mrs. Minnock whispered, “That was almost you up there.”

  He looked at her over his glasses. “It most certainly was.”

  “Are you happy it’s not?”

  The answer was complicated. Miss Reave had been the epitome of everything he thought that he had wanted. The lovely, well-connected final accouterment necessary to complete his life serving the hysterical throngs of London society. Would that life have made him happy? In giving up the idea of her, he had lost more than a fiancée. He had lost the certainty of exactly what he wanted from his life.

  Finally, as he stared into the quizzical eyes of Mrs. Minnock, he smiled. “I am happier than you can imagine.”

  He had said it too loudly. Several irritated guests turned around and frowned.

  “Shhh!” An angularly prim woman scowled at them both.

  Mrs. Minnock giggled softly.

  “You shhh!” Mrs. Pannade glared at the woman, who at once shrank back into her seat. Mrs. Pannade may have been cured of her relentless pursuit of the doctor’s affections and was seemingly rid of her hysteria symptoms, but she still could throw a most fearsome stare if she wanted to.

  She turned and nodded at Mrs. Minnock and the doctor, and sat back to watch Miss Faffle struggling to slide the golden band on to her new husband’s finger.

  ****

  The three gossips huddled together in a corner and whispered as Dr. Whitcraft passed by. He nodded at them before joining Mrs. Pannade and Mrs. Minnock. Everyone waited for the commencement of the wedding breakfast.

  “What are the both of you grinning at?” He looked from woman to woman.

  Mrs. Pannade glanced at Mrs. Minnock. “I just found out how Miss Faffle and Constable Fettle managed to pay for this lovely affair.”

  Dr. Whitcraft frowned at Mrs. Minnock.

  She shrugged. “You shouldn’t be so modest, Dr. Whitcraft. There is no shame in chivalry.”

  He looked down and kicked some dirt off his shoes. “Well, Mrs. Pannade, after Dr. Reave felt compelled to pay me back for what I’ve spent over the years on his daughter, it seemed like a proper use for the money, I suppose.”

  Mrs. Minnock squeezed the tips of his fingers. “Mrs. Pannade, did I tell you what a lovely dress that is?”

  “Oh, why thank you!” She arched her back then twirled for her audience. “Corrine selected the style. That girl knows exactly what flatters my figure.” She glanced at Dr. Whitcraft as her hand slid down the side seam. She brought her chin to her shoulder and posed. Remembering herself, she straightened and turned back to Mrs. Minnock. “Say, now that Lilly is leaving, have you decided who will share Corrine’s room?”

  “Brigitte has wanted to be downstairs for ages, so I suppose she will move.”

  “Lilly’s leaving?” he asked.

  Mrs. Pannade and Mrs. Minnock exchanged glances.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Minnock said. “I was going to tell you about that later. I hazard to say, you may find the reason a little startling because it deals directly with your recent unpleasantness.”

  He waved his hand. “I’ll manage, I’m sure. What is it?”

  “It seems a judgment of negligence has been handed down against…” Mrs. Minnock paused and glanced at the gossips who had inched closer. She lowered her voice. “Against you know who, and because the man has disappeared, the court saw fit to seize that empty house in St. James Square. They’ve handed it over to the Mrs. Fussock’s next of kin…Mr. Fussock.”

  “Mr. Fussock?” His former dream house, now in the hands of Mr. Fussock? He wasn’t sure how to feel about that bizarre development.

  Mrs. Minnock continued, “The acquisition has apparently proved inspiring to the man, and has been just the carrot he needed to lure Lilly away from us. The two were married yesterday.”

  “Good Lord,” he said. “Now she’s Mrs. Fussock?”

  The bride and groom scuttled past swept along by a crowd of well-wishers. Mrs. Pannade sighed with pleasure as she watched them. “Ah, one never knows who will end up with whom. Lilly with Mr. Fussock. Mr. Pannade is out of my life now, thank God and Dr. Whitcraft is rid of that uppity adolescent. And the new Mrs. Fettle will never have to hear from that awful greengrocer again. I never heard what happened to him.”

  “The harshest sentence for any similar crime within the last ten years of English justice, Mrs. Pannade,” he said. “Fifteen years.”

  Mr. Gamon had never been aware that his unconscious body had played such a pivotal role in the debasement of Dr. Marplot. But he did learn that the name Dr. William Whitcraft carried a certain cachet with the judge assigned to hear his case—the Honorable Judge Ingler. After announcing his sentence, the judge paused and glanced across the courtroom, appearing to seek Dr. Whitcraft’s blessing. When he nodded, the gavel crashed down, sealing the man’s fate.

  “It’s too bad that Dr. Marplot isn’t in there with him,” Mrs. Pannade said. “But regardless, now that he’s gone…isn’t it your maneuver again, Dr. Whitcraft?”

  He shrugged again. “Frankly, anything remotely associated with him is now tainted beyond repair. I’m afraid the maneuver is destined to become a footnote in medical history.”

  “You could move out of London and do it somewhere else, where no one knows about it. Or you could call it something else,” Mrs. Minnock suggested.

  “What? Like The Five-Step Plan? No, somehow I’ve lost my taste for that business. When I was in Paris, I learned that hysteria strangely doesn’t seem to be as big of a problem in other parts of the world as it is here in England. Who knows why that is. But that’s neither here nor there. I believe I’ll have to become inspired by something else, perhaps move my practice in another direction. Maybe I don’t want to practice any more. Maybe I should teach, or write. I don’t know.”

  Mrs. Minnock was quiet for a moment and then said, “William, I had no idea you’d been thinking of this. It’s funny you’d mention a change in careers. I’ve been thinking about the same thing.”

  Now that he was watching, she and Mrs. Pannade were looking intently at one another, sharing something between them seeming to have great import. Finally, she threw up her hands. “Oh, shall we tell him, Mrs. Pannade?”

  Mrs. Pannade nodded wildly and bu
rst into a highly charged grin. “I’m going to be taking over Mrs. Minnock’s duties. Me! Can you imagine?”

  “You’re what?”

  Mrs. Pannade’s eyebrows raised while her grin grew larger still. “Me!”

  Mrs. Minnock smiled at Dr. Whitcraft and shrugged.

  He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her toward the wall, away from the other guests. “Why didn’t you tell me this? I mean, this is quite the news, isn’t it?”

  “Which? About me or Mrs. Pannade?”

  “About you! I can’t fathom that business about Mrs. Pannade, for heaven’s sake…but you! What are you going to do?”

  She sighed, pulling him away even further. “William, that night everything happened, when you arrived at my house all bleeding and disoriented…that disgusting man from Parliament was with me. I had to send him off so I could tend to you. Well, that was it for me, my last evening out.” But after thinking about it for a moment, she put her hand to his ear, cupping in the sound so it was only for him, and whispered, “Except for you, of course.” She smiled.

  “I had no idea.”

  “Of course you didn’t. There was no reason for you to know. It’s my choice. My life. I’ve done all I’m going to do with this life. It’s time for me to turn the damn thing over to Mrs. Pannade, like Mrs. Pettish turned it over to me. I’ve made a little money.” She shook her head. “That’s not quite honest. I’ve made a fortune, actually. My frugality and good business sense have paid off and now I have the luxury of being able to do whatever strikes my fancy.”

  He paused, and finally said, “I’m very happy for you, of course. It’s wonderful, really. I’ve always despised the idea of you in that way...”

  “Unless it was with you, of course.”

  He winced, and quickly asked, “You’ll move then, I presume. Where will you live?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’m seeing about some other places.”

  “But, you’re not leaving London. You can’t possibly—”

  She threw her arms around him and held on for a time. He stood stiff and bewildered when she finally whispered, “William if I stayed here, I would be nothing except what I am now—Elizabeth Minnock, famous London procuress. No matter where I go or whom I talk to, everyone knows me. What I am. I want to go where I can be anonymous.”

  He pushed her back with a look of urgency just as Mrs. Pannade descended on them both, crying, “Oh, don’t they make a lovely couple!”

  For a moment, Dr. Whitcraft thought she was talking about them, but then saw the bride and groom over his shoulder.

  “Yes. Yes they do,” he whispered.

  ****

  Dr. Whitcraft quietly descended his stairs holding a lit candle, lost in thought. He hadn’t been able to sleep because his mind had been in a whirl since he had returned from the wedding. He placed the candle on his desk, sat and opened the top middle drawer. There sat an unfolded letter, its edges worn from the multiple times he had handled it. He adjusted his glasses and read it over again, the silence in his office heavier than usual.

  Still clutching the letter, he looked up into the darkness. He thought about Miss Faffle’s empty desk for a time, and then remembered some of the faces of the scores of patients he had seen over the years…trying unsuccessfully to dismiss all notions of sentimentality arising in his heart. He took a deep breath.

  “Why not?” he said aloud, and then smiled.

  ****

  “Get up! I want you to read this.” He had brought the letter and the candle upstairs.

  Mrs. Minnock squinted at him sleepily. “What? Right now…?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  She sat up and took the letter from his hand. In the flickering candlelight, she read it. When she finished she looked up and shrugged.

  “I met those fellows in Paris. One of their students introduced me...they liked my research on electricity, as you read, and offered me a job the last day of the conference. Sent this letter out to me shortly afterwards. Of course, I couldn’t consider it because of the maneuver, but now…why not? Why not, indeed?” He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I want you to come with me. Let’s just go, Elizabeth.”

  She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide with wonder. “This is rather spontaneous of you. Isn’t it rather out of character?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “Not very stodgy then, I suppose. What do you say?”

  She giggled and jumped into the arms of her formerly stodgy ex-client, tossed her head back, and cried, “I say, Oui, Oui!”

  Afterword

  Given that the tale of The Five-Step Plan is one of obsolete medical techniques, it seemed only fitting to carry that theme to my character’s names. Every fictional character in this story possesses a last name that is an obsolete English word. What follows is a list and their definitions.

  The Key Players

  Dr. Whitcraft (witcraft): Logic…argumentation

  Dr. Vorago: Gluttonous waste-gut and spendall

  Miss Faffle: Busy work

  Mr. Gamon: Deceive, tell lies

  Miss Reave: To take away

  Dr. Marplot: Spoilsport

  Mrs. Minnock: A favorite darling, the object of one’s affection

  Mr. and Mrs. Pannade: The prancings of a lusty horse

  Constable Fettle: To arrange or mend

  Hysteria Patients

  Mr. and Mrs. Wedfellow: Spouse

  Mrs. Brabble: Quarrel

  Mrs. Snaggs: Large teeth

  Mrs. Junters: The state of being sulky

  Mrs. Fussock: A fat lazy old woman

  Mr. and Mrs. Meecher: To act by stealth / clandestine lover

  Mrs. Princod: Fat round plump person / pincushion

  Mrs. Chankings: Slightly masticated spit-out food

  Patients

  Mr. Brim: To be in heat

  Father Benison: Blessing

  Mr. Lask: Afflicted with diarrhea

  Mr. Buzznack: An old organ out of order and playing badly

  Mr. Twitchel: Childish old man

  Mr. Larking: Sex with a woman’s breasts

  Doctors

  Dr. and Mrs. Smatchet: A small, nasty person

  Dr. Forspent: Weary

  Dr. Scamble: Cheat to get free food

  Dr. Hurple: A shrug one does in inclement weather

  Dr. Chimble: To gnaw like a rat

  Dr. Clowclash: A state of confusion

  Dr. Naffin: Almost an idiot

  Dr. Encraty: Mastery of the senses or an abstinence from pleasures

  Dr. Sangrado: Quack

  Mr. Looby: An awkward, ignorant fellow

  Dr. Prinking: Dressed nicely

  The London Society of Manners

  Mrs. Uppish: Testy, apt to take offense

  Mr. Fustian: Bombast language

  Mrs. Foyce: Gas from an old woman blamed often on the small dog in her lap

  The Police / Justice System Figures

  Sergeant Draffsack: A big paunch or lazy glutton

  Constable Duffart: A dull, soft fellow

  Mr. Boodler: One who takes or offers bribes

  Judge Ingler: Passive participant in anal intercourse

  Mr. Jarkman: Vagabond counterfeiter of documents

  Mr. Kelter: Money

  Supporting Characters

  Mrs. Anile: Old womanish

  Mr. Caxon: An old weatherbeaten wig

  Mr. Varment: Dashing

  Mrs. Pursy: Fat and short of breath

  Mr. and Mrs. Drumble: Confused

  Mr. Grannows: Streaks of dirt left in underwear after washing

  Mrs. Harridan: Worn out old woman, harlot

  Mr. Smittlish: Infectious / contagious

  Mr. Flepper: Upper Lip

  Mrs. Pettish: Passionate

  Mrs. Shardborn: Born or residing in excrement

  Miss Drizzen: A low mournful sound like a cow

  Mr. Understrapper: Inferior fellow in any office

  Mr. Lorel: A dissolute person<
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  Mrs. Randle: A set of nonsensical verses

  Mrs. Brade: Fraud

  A word from the author...

  I grew up in Ohio and went to college in Salem, Massachusetts, before moving to New Orleans in 1996. I worked in marketing while my husband attended medical school, but left when my first son was born. I am proud to be a stay-at-home mom for my two sons, but now that they are older, I have plenty of time for my true passion, which is researching and writing historical fiction.

  Thank you for purchasing this publication

  of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.