The Doctor's Daughter

by Susan M. Baganz

“But I very well may die here today. Would that you would afford me this slight grace.”

  Silvia swallowed, and her eyes filled with tears. She nodded and bent to gently meet his lips. Oh, sweet heaven. For a moment all pain was gone and only that momentary bliss. He should feel guilty for extracting a kiss from her in such a manner, but he couldn’t regret it.

  She pulled back. “I’ve become quite scandalous since I arrived in town. Are you certain you want me to—”

  “I trust you. Strap me down before you start.”

  She did as he bid.

  “Lord Remington, you may return,” she called out. “Your presence might save what little reputation I’ll have left.”

  Marcus reentered the room.

  “Put that rolled up cloth in his mouth. We don’t want him screaming to wake the dead in the cemetery down the street,” Silvia said.

  “I think you rate my powers too highly, Miss Burnett. What else can I do?” Marcus asked.

  “Pray, and keep him focused on you. Talk to him. Sing. I don’t care as long as he doesn’t move.”

  Marcus moved to place his hands on Bruce’s shoulders—a comforting weight.

  Silvia cleansed his skin and the pain caused him to shudder.

  “Stay still, Bruce,” she scolded.

  The knife appeared in his peripheral vision, and he closed his eyes in anticipation of the pain to come.

  She lowered the blade to his skin.

  3

  Silvia took a deep breath and gently touched the skin to palpitate it. She found the spot and made the first slice. She tried to ignore the whimpers from Bruce and focused on her task.

  Inside she trembled. She’d never done anything of the like before, and reading about it bore no kin to the real agony she experienced along with Bruce. Her soul was pierced with his pain, and she fought against the tears. This was a man she had loved. If anything went wrong, how would she live with herself? Lord, please help me. I can’t do this. She paused, biting her lip. Focus on the task, not the pain. It was as if she could hear her father’s voice urging her on. This was no time to dally.

  Remembering her father’s anatomy books and his descriptions with a clarity that surprised her, Silvia removed the diseased organ, stitched him up, and closed the skin with small even stiches before applying a salve and bandage. Only then did she look at the face of the man she’d silently loved for years. Tears had traveled down the side of his face.

  “It’s over. I’m done.”

  Lord Remington stood, removing the cloth from between his friend’s teeth. Tears ran down his own cheeks in empathy for the pain of his friend. “He lost consciousness.”

  “Probably a good thing, except we need to get him back to his room. Those stairs are narrow, do you think between the two of us…?” She moved the bloody utensils and clothes to the side and wiped the table clean before scrubbing the blood from her hands. “Could you untie the restraints for me?”

  “Gladly. I think we can get him up there. Perhaps my footman outside would help?”

  “I’d like to keep him upright for the journey—you on one side of him and your footman on the other. It’ll mean dragging his feet up the stairs but if you’re careful I think it can be done without hurting him further.”

  “I believe we can manage that.”

  She glanced at Lord Remington. He appeared pale. “Take a seat and put your head down. You won’t be much help if you pass out.”

  Her own tears flowed now, having been held back during the surgery. Her side ached as if she’d been the one sliced into. She doubted she’d ever be able to perform surgery with impunity. Even when her father had demonstrated surgeries using a live pig, she’d squirmed as if she were the patient. He told her it was evidence of her compassionate heart, which was as important in the healing process as skill or knowledge. “But a lack of skill could kill someone!” she would respond. He’d gently pat her shoulder and tell her he was proud of her.

  Would you be proud of me tonight, Father? She sighed. Her hands shook as she dried them. She held them in front of her and watched the tremors.

  “Are you well?” Lord Remington inquired.

  “Unnerved. I’ve never needed to slice someone open before, and to do it to…”

  “Someone you love.”

  She turned to stare at the lord. “How…?”

  “He mentioned it when you left the bedroom. He said that’s why he trusted you. Because he loved you and you cared about him.”

  A soft smile played on her lips as she came to stand by Bruce’s head. “Oh, he did, did he?” She caressed Bruce’s cheek before checking his pupils and pulse. “We can move him now. Are you well enough?”

  Lord Remington stood and came to the other side of the table. “Are you?”

  “I’m stronger than I appear. On three. One, two, three.” They lifted Bruce to a sitting position, and she maneuvered his legs to hang off the table. Silvia held him up as Marcus went to get a footman to assist with the journey upstairs. When he returned, each man placed one of Bruce’s arms around each of their necks and, supporting him, they managed to carry him up the stairs and back into bed.

  Silvia covered him with a woolen blanket and checked his forehead. “I need to go clean up the surgery. Can you watch over him? I’ll return with some willow bark tea.”

  “No laudanum?” Marcus asked.

  She shook her head. “Nasty stuff. I’d rather suggest brandy but regardless, he’ll be hurting for some time. He’ll not be traveling on horseback for weeks, nor should he be carrying anything heavy. He understands the limitations, but will he abide by them?”

  Lord Remington pulled up a chair and sat. “Thank you, Miss Burnett.”

  “For what?”

  “Taking care of my friend.”

  She nodded and left the room as Marcus bent his head as if in prayer.

  Back in the surgery she cleaned the instruments and scrubbed the table and everything else. She tossed the bloodied rags in a bucket filled with water to soak. She then took a little tour around his surgery and attached stillroom. Dr. Miller had a selection of herbal supplements and a book describing treatments. If he would allow her assistance while he healed, everything she needed was here. She was impressed. “Papa, you’d be proud of the doctor Bruce became.”

  Finding the kitchen, she retrieved the hot water, cups and teas including the willow bark. She’d get that in him once it cooled off a little, even if he remained unconscious. She took the steps carefully. Arriving in the room she placed the tray on a table and began to pour tea for Marcus and Bruce. She handed the tea to Marcus. “Here. Fortify yourself a little before you return home.”

  She went back for her own cup while Bruce’s steeped. She sipped, relishing the burn of the hot water as a way to sooth her anxiety over Bruce’s welfare.

  “Shall I take you back to Michael and Katrina’s soon?”

  “I’ll remain here.”

  “Why?”

  “His recovery isn’t certain. I would see him break this fever before I’d be comfortable leaving him. He has no one to nurse him, so I will do it.”

  “It is improper. His cook has gone home for the evening.”

  “Do you really think he’ll debauch me in his current condition, Lord Remington?”

  “No, but I still don’t like it. Should word get out you’d be compromised and forced to wed.”

  “My reputation has been compromised, my lord, simply by performing surgery. Oh, maybe if I’d stitched up his finger, society wouldn’t pause for a moment, but his appendix? No, my lord. I’m already ruined in the eyes of society, should I be discovered, but it is worth it if he can recover. And besides, do you think I’m the sort to force a man to marry me, for propriety’s sake?”

  Marcus stood, motioning for her to take the chair he’d occupied. He sipped his coffee and considered her as he wandered to the other side of the bed. “I’ll send a footman and a maid to assist you. You’re a brave and intriguing woman, Miss Burnett.”
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  “I think by now you can call me Silvia. I doubt your wife would mind.”

  “Silvia. I believe Bruce is fortunate in his choice of…friends.”

  “He often spoke highly of you. Bruce grew up further afield, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but for the sake of friendship, he was willing to settle here. He doesn’t visit his family often.”

  “And he’s not been snagged by any local beauty?”

  “No. He’s been too busy, either caring for the sick or studying, to be courting.”

  “That’s a sad life.”

  Marcus frowned. “I’ve never considered it. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own life that I never even thought about how lonely he might be. I assumed he preferred it that way.”

  “Maybe he does. Don’t berate yourself. You are friends, and he could come to you if he needed anything, including companionship.”

  “He’s always welcome at Rose Hill.”

  “Bruce is fortunate in his friends.” She set down her cup and turned to get her patient’s tea prepared. Coming around to the bed again she sat the teacup down on the nightstand. “Can you lift him a little?”

  Marcus did as she asked.

  Carefully, she tipped the cup into Bruce’s mouth, closing it before it could dribble out, he swallowed, and she repeated the process several more times. “You can lay him back down. We’ll give him more in a little bit if he doesn’t wake up on his own.”

  “Are you certain you want to remain here tonight? As I mentioned, his maid-of-all-work, Mrs. Wilson, is gone for the night. If you stay, you’ll be alone.”

  “I have a gun in my bag and am trained in how to use it.”

  The lord’s eyes grew wide.

  “I don’t anticipate trouble. I learned to shoot in case I needed to defend myself. I’ll lock the door. Tell Katrina where I am, so she doesn’t worry.”

  Marcus set down his empty cup. “I’ll depart and send help as soon as I can. I’m not happy with this, but when Josie was bedridden, I stayed by her side, praying. I understand your need to be here.”

  “Thank you, Lord Remington.”

  “Marcus. Thank you, Silvia, for everything.”

  He stepped out of the room, and she followed. Once he donned his hat and coat he gave her a nod and departed. After the footman arrived, she locked the door behind him and returned to the bedroom to watch over her patient. It would be a long night.

  She stood at the window to watch the falling snow. Her first Christmas without her father was on the horizon. She couldn’t have borne it if she’d lost Bruce as well. She swallowed hard as the reality of what she’d done weighed her down. Bruce wasn’t out of the woods yet. She needed to make sure he survived.

  ~*~

  His heavy lids didn’t want to open, but a gentle hand placed a cool compress on his head. He wondered who it was. When it was removed he shivered. A hand came to his neck and lifted him. Tea passed between his lips. He drank it eagerly. Willow bark. Just what he’d prescribe if he were treating himself. Wait. Something happened. He tried to move, and sharp pain came from his side. He forced his eyes to open as his head rested back on the pillow. The flaxen-haired miss gave him a smile. “Hello, Bruce.”

  “Silvia?”

  “Yes. Rest. You need to heal. Your fever broke which is wonderful. It means the surgery was successful.”

  His hand went to the bandaged area. It was cool to the touch and while it hurt, it wasn’t as bad as before. “You really did it?”

  She nodded. “Hardest thing I think I’ve ever done.”

  “I believed in you.”

  “Heaven knows why.”

  He grinned. “Where’s Marcus?”

  “He departed hours ago.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Close to two in the morning.”

  “You stayed here alone?”

  “Marcus sent a footman and a maid from Rose Hill.” She pointed to the man sleeping on a pallet in the corner.

  He tried to move and groaned. “I need to relieve myself.”

  She helped him sit up and got him to his feet.

  He sucked in a deep breath and leaned against her, breathing heavily. Within seconds, he righted himself, but kept an arm around her shoulders.

  She walked him to an area behind a screen. “Can you manage from here? I’ll be close by.”

  “Yes.” Once he finished and secured his trousers he leaned against the wall. “How much tea have you poured into me?”

  She gave a low chuckle. “Enough to take the edge off your pain. Or would you prefer brandy?” She came to put an arm around him to help him back to bed. He reclined, and she covered him up again.

  “No laudanum?”

  “You disdain the drug and although you will prescribe it in certain situations I was not sure you would want to use it, so I chose the willow bark for now. If you rest for a few days, you might be able to make it without anything more than that.”

  “You understand me well.”

  “It’s been years, but I remember.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “I can get you some food. Do you promise to stay put?”

  “Can’t risk ripping out those perfect stiches now, can I?” He grinned.

  “Perfect? I might have left you with a grotesque scar.”

  “Not you. I’ve seen your embroidery. You seek perfection, and I’d be surprised if I found anything less.”

  “Flattery will get you some food. Let me search the pantry.”

  “Thank you, Silvia.”

  “You’re welcome, Bruce.”

  She left the room taking with her the tea tray and a candle. He was surprised he felt so much better so soon. He realized that infection could still occur, but he’d observed her procedure in preparing for the surgery. He doubted any further illness would befall him.

  ~*~

  Two days later, and Silvia finally left her patient’s bedside as Marcus provided a footman to help the good doctor when he needed anything. Arriving back at Hart Manor, she was greeted warmly by Katrina.

  “Silvia, you must be exhausted. I’ll call for a bath and dinner served in your room. Sitting in a chair for two days straight taking care of an invalid must have been trying.”

  Yawning, Silvia nodded. “I am exhausted, but ’twas no bother.”

  Katrina’s eyes twinkled. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “We’re old acquaintances.”

  “Hmmm. Well, go, rest, and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

  Silvia entered her room, and a bath was soon brought up. She indulged in the warm water and washed her hair. Sitting by the fire while it dried, she enjoyed the meal prepared by the Tidley’s fine chef. The last two days she’d been more focused on getting Bruce to eat and hadn’t partaken much for herself. She’d read to him. They’d discussed medical treatments and talked about their faith. She smiled at the memory. Maybe God was orchestrating all this to fulfill her heart’s desire.

  She snuggled into her bed and relaxed, dreaming of kisses and friendship that warmed her from the inside out.

  The next morning, she rushed through her ablutions and checked her bag to ensure she had restocked her supplies. Dr. Miller had given permission for her to take things from his still room for her tinctures. Dressed in her plainest black mourning dress, she headed to the breakfast parlour to eat before setting out to check up on the Remington’s sick servant.

  “Good morning, Miss Burnett,” Sir Michael greeted her. “I understand you’ll be absconding with a carriage and groom to take you on a tour around the countryside.”

  “I wasn’t planning to take in any sights today.” She peered outside. “Besides it appears to be a bit dreary out.”

  “It does. A better choice would be to sit with a good book by the fire.”

  “Perhaps later if I can return soon enough to do so. I need to check on the Remington servant this morning, to see how he fares.”

  “Remington told me you did the surgery on Dr. Miller.�
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  Katrina walked into the room. “That is not proper breakfast conversation.”

  He grinned at his bride. “You’re not curious about how she managed to save Bruce’s life? She’s been away more than she’s been here. When else would you get the tale? Or is she to write us a missive to read in her absence?”

  “No gory details. Was it difficult?”

  “I was terrified,” Silvia admitted. “I made Lord Remington promise not to jail me if the good doctor died because of a mistake I might make.”

  Katrina nodded. “There are many sick people in town. My maid told me that word of your help has spread. We’ve already had people coming to our door seeking your care in Dr. Miller’s absence. There is a list of people who have requested you to visit. Are you certain this is what you want to do?”

  “Dr. Miller needs to rest. I could do no less for him. I would hate to hear of anyone dying because I was more interested in my comfort.”

  “May God watch over you as you go,” Michael said. “I’ll make sure the carriage is at the door for you.”

  “Thank you.” Silvia drank the rest of her tea and patted her mouth with her napkin. “I anticipate long talks when this illness has passed, and time playing with your children.”

  Katrina tilted her head and considered her friend. “I do, too. I wonder if your helping is a way to avoid facing your grief.”

  Like a blow to the gut, Silvia fought to breathe. Her friend was closer to the truth than she realized. Keeping busy was a way to tamp all the emotions that threatened to rise to the surface. “Perhaps so, dear friend, but even if it weren’t…I owe it to Bruce and my father to continue the work they prepared me for.”

  “I understand. Go with God, and take care. Return any time during the day if you need a respite. Don’t forget that we long to serve you too. I didn’t extend an invitation so you could work, but so that we could provide a safe place for you to grieve.”

  Silvia swallowed hard. “I know,” she whispered, “and I am grateful. You always were the best of friends.” Rising to her feet she exited the room. Michael assisted her with her cloak as the weather looked to be damp.

  “Be well,” the knight admonished.

  “I’ll do my best. Thank you, Michael.” With that she was out the door.