“Or not being at all as you appear,” Ronnie added quietly, her eyes downcast.
“It’s true that sometimes, without meaning to, I happen to get a look at my reflection in a mirror or a window, and it’s a bit frightening—until I realize that the old witch with all the wrinkles is me!” said Lillian in such a manner that it was difficult to tell if she was joking or not. “But would I ever go under the knife? Don’t be offended, Frank, but I’m not sure I would trust anyone that much, not even you. And I don’t know, when all is said and done, that I’d be happy with a different face.”
“The art of the beauty doctor is not to give his patient a different face, only a better one,” Franklin replied smoothly.
“Nicely put, Frank!” Joe exclaimed, pulling his tiny notebook from the pocket of his jacket and making a quick scribble. “I want to remember that. It may come in handy.”
“Franklin, wait.”
With lunch finally over, and everyone going their own way, Abigail had silently trailed him into the hallway. He turned around as if surprised to see her.
“I thought you’d be headed upstairs for a nap.”
His words seemed a wicked reminder of why neither of them had gotten much sleep last night—and how little it meant to him now.
“I need to talk with you.”
“We can chat on the way out to the gazebo, if you like.”
“I’m not going with you to the gazebo. And I don’t want to chat. I want to talk.”
He looked at her as if about to say he hadn’t the time. “All right, but you’ll have to walk with me.”
They started in silence, circling around the house. In her preoccupation, Abigail had left without her hat; it was too late to go back for it now. The sun beat down on her face, dry dust filling her nostrils and parching her throat. Somewhere close by, she heard the harsh cry of a sentinel crow.
“What’s on your mind?”
She was surprised to find that her anger had dissipated and that all she wanted was to pour out her heart to Franklin, to make him understand what last night had meant to her, how lost and alone she felt now.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your plans?” she said finally, staring at the ground, barely managing to place one foot before the other as they turned down the trail leading to the gazebo. “Why did I have to hear it first from Joe Radcliff?”
“I didn’t realize I was obligated to consult with you about such matters.”
“You’re not obligated. But I thought—” She could feel the tears coming. Ferociously, she swiped the back of her hand over her eyes. “You might at least have given me some warning before you pulled the rug out from under me.”
“I haven’t pulled out any rug, and I won’t have you talking that way. What’s the matter with you? Why are you so quick to assume the worst?”
Was he right? Was that what she was doing?
“It just seems as if everything has changed overnight. It wasn’t what I expected. None of it was.”
He stopped, grabbing her by the shoulders and rotating her toward him so that he was looking straight into her eyes. “Now, I want you to listen very carefully. I’ve stumbled on an opportunity far beyond anything I could have imagined possible. And if you’re really as smart as you pretend to be, you’ll recognize it and embrace it.”
“What exactly am I supposed to embrace? I don’t know anything about your deal with Joe. I have no idea what it means for—” She stopped, unsure whether to say for me or us. Perhaps there wasn’t any us and never had been.
“Now isn’t the time for that conversation.”
“Why not?”
“Because the details have yet to be worked out.”
“The details of what?”
“You know very well that I’m speaking of the Rome Institute.”
“And I am speaking of more than that. I thought last night was the start of something—not the end.”
“Abigail.” His voice was gentler now. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I’m sorry not to have told you about the Institute. It was a very sudden thing. I honestly wasn’t sure until this morning that Joe was serious. And when he’s serious, he moves fast. I’ve learned that much about him already. There was absolutely no chance, not a single moment, for me to talk with you alone.”
She brushed a renegade tear from her cheek, determined not to fall apart in front of him. “We wouldn’t be talking even now if I hadn’t insisted on it.”
“Just be quiet for a moment and listen to what I have to say. Can you do that?”
She sighed impatiently, prepared for another of his lectures about how she should or shouldn’t feel.
“Now, close your eyes.”
“What for?”
“I want you to use that very fertile imagination of yours. I want you to form a mental image of everything I’m about to say. Just try, will you?”
She did as he asked, rather grudgingly, though actually it was a relief to escape the sun’s glare.
“I want you to imagine the Rome Institute. Imagine it, Abigail! Patients coming to me from across the country, around the world, women of virtually every description but with one thing in common: a thirst for beauty. And paying quite handsomely, I might add, to be artfully molded in the hands of the world-famous Dr. Franklin Rome.”
Abigail opened her mouth to say something, but he quickly placed his finger on her lips.
“Imagine those women staying at the Institute not just overnight but for days or even weeks of customized beauty treatments, lounging in lavish suites with all the panache of a luxury hotel, pampered by a professional nursing staff, their meals prepared by a superb private chef. You see, the Rome Institute will not be a beauty hospital, it will be a beauty destination!”
She opened her eyes. “But the people who come to you for surgery want it to be quick and painless. I don’t see what’s to be accomplished by pretending it’s a vacation. No one will want to stay at your hospital a second longer than they must.”
“Oh, but you are so very wrong! Even some of the city hospitals are starting to offer luxury accommodations for those who can afford them—fancy rooms and gourmet meals. And that’s for people who are sick! Surely, a beauty institute with patients who are there by choice, not necessity, should be expected to do even better. And Scarsdale is the perfect location for just such a place. Close enough to the city for convenience, far enough so that no one else has to know. A woman can disappear for days or weeks or however long it might take for her transformation. And when she returns home, everyone will look at her and scratch their heads, wondering what she’s done to look so perfectly rested and refreshed, so beautiful and youthful. Was it only a vacation, they’ll ask? And she’ll insist, of course, that it was.” He chuckled. “Joe’s concept is brilliant! It elevates the field of transformative surgery to a whole new plateau.”
Though she had no intention of saying so, it wasn’t Joe’s concept that bothered her. It was the other things he had said, only an hour ago at lunch. At the Rome Institute, Franklin would have plenty of doctors and nurses to assist him. What use would he have for her? Perhaps, in truth, the only thing he’d ever wanted from her was what she’d foolishly surrendered to him last night.
Franklin pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s getting late, and I need to examine the twins. Come on along.”
“I’m sure you don’t need me.”
He sighed wearily. “Look, I’ve already said I’m sorry. But Joe’s concept is the future. I never dreamed it would happen so fast, but once again fortune has smiled on me. I would be remiss not to smile back.”
“Well, congratulations then. I wish both of you well.”
“Don’t sound so glum. This is an unbelievable opportunity for you, too.”
“For me?”
“Yes, if you’ll open your mind to the possibilities.”
Open her mind? It was easy enough for him to say such a thing! He had everything to gain, nothing to lose.
Unable t
o meet his eyes, she let her gaze wander down the path leading to the gazebo. It was a long, empty trail; one would never guess what waited at the end, the beautiful white gazebo with its rose gardens and its maze of hedges. One would never know until almost there, when the first line of hedges came into view and, farther along, the gazebo’s sloping green roof suddenly curved against the bright blue sky.
She took a deep breath. Perhaps Franklin was right about opening her mind—though she doubted that he realized how much she had done so already, the effort of will it had taken to alter her long-held beliefs about what a doctor is and does. And now the Institute—a hospital masquerading as a vacation resort. Franklin appeared set on going forward with it. She supposed she could understand why. As he said, fortune had smiled on him.
As for her—she would simply have to wait and see if fortune planned to make amends for the past. Or if she would soon find herself again without hope.
“Good afternoon!” Ludwik, wearing a light tan suit and a blue silk tie that played brilliantly off his eyes, looked up from his book. “Miss Platford. Dr. Rome. What brings the two of you out to the gazebo on this lovely afternoon?”
He stood up, tipping his straw boater in Abigail’s direction. He and Franklin shook hands.
“I was intrigued last night to learn that your girls would like to have me fix their noses,” Franklin replied. He smiled at the twins, both of whom had stopped reading and were watching them intently. “I wondered if I might have a look at them to determine whether the idea is feasible.”
Ludwik glanced at the twins with a mildly stern look that suggested they’d already discussed the matter. “It’s very kind of you, but I’m afraid you’re wasting your time, Doctor.”
“Maybe so. But I thought, with your permission, I might give them just a quick examination anyway.”
“Really, you needn’t bother.”
“But it’s no bother.”
Ludwik’s posture stiffened. “Maybe you didn’t hear me, Doctor. I said you’re wasting your time.”
“But Mr. Radcliff thinks—”
“Mr. Radcliff has nothing to do with this. The twins are guests here, nothing more. This idea they have about their noses, it’s just a passing fancy. A reaction to the insensitive comments of others, I’m afraid. They’re young. They’ll get over it.” He glanced at Abigail, who smiled uncomfortably. “It’s not that I don’t respect your work, Doctor,” he said in a more conciliatory tone. “But save it for those who can benefit from it. Not my girls.”
“Let’s discuss all this later, between the two of us. You understand, I’ve promised Joe that I’ll at least examine the girls. No harm in that, is there?” Franklin lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “Chances are they’re not even candidates for an operation. I can tell them so right now, today. The verdict of the good doctor will put an end to it!”
Ludwik looked again at the girls, who immediately buried their heads in their books.
“Well, you might have a point,” he replied, seeming to ease up somewhat. “They’ve been nagging me to no end. Sometimes it’s like having two wives, if you can imagine the bloody pain of that!”
“Now, Ludwik”—Franklin was clearly anxious to get down to business—“I wonder if you can tell me whether the girls have separate hearts and lungs.”
“I’ve been told that they do.”
“And they are in generally good physical health—both of them?”
“Well, as you might expect, there are numerous problems for the girls.”
“Such as?”
“Each twin controls her half of their body, so one must always coordinate her movements with the other. They’ve mastered the technique well, but you may have noticed that they walk with a limp. You see, Melilla’s leg is shorter than Valencia’s.”
“That should have no impact on whether surgery can be performed on their noses,” Franklin interjected brusquely. “They have no trouble with their breathing?”
Ludwik seemed to be growing impatient again. “All these questions—it doesn’t sound to me as if you’ve ruled out the possibility of operating on them, Doctor.”
“Mr. Radcliff is only thinking of the girls. He wants them to be happy.”
“I assure you, they’re quite happy as they are.”
Franklin smiled stiffly. “I know that’s what you believe, but—well, I want to be sure that you understand.”
“I understand completely.”
Again Franklin lowered his voice. “What I mean is, Mr. Radcliff realizes what a rare and valuable specimen the girls are. Apparently there’s nothing else like them alive in the world today. At any rate, he’s willing to compensate you accordingly.”
Abigail looked at him questioningly, not quite understanding what he was getting at. Ludwik was far ahead of her.
“I will do my best to forget that Mr. Radcliff, and you as his messenger, ever dared suggest such a thing to me! My girls are not a specimen, and they are not for sale at any price.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you, Baron, but Joe led me to believe that you paid a rather substantial sum for them, and so we merely thought—”
“I’ve made a commitment to these girls, and I plan to honor it. I’m afraid I don’t share your willingness to breach any oath as long as there’s enough money on the table.”
Abigail was starting to become alarmed by the rising tension between the two men. She thought about saying something, trying to calm things down, though she doubted anyone would listen to her.
“That kind of remark is entirely uncalled for, sir,” Franklin said imperiously. “There’s no shame in desiring to be beautiful. I have devoted myself to assisting those who have such a desire, and I will not apologize for it.”
“You’re free to devote yourself to whatever you choose, but I’m afraid your help is not needed here,” Ludwik retorted. “Now if you’ll be so kind as to excuse us, the twins and I are heading back to the house.”
Franklin was obviously furious, but Abigail was sure he was most upset about the prospect of telling Joe that he had failed to fulfill such a simple first assignment. Perhaps the humiliation of it would convince him their partnership was not to his liking after all.
Ludwik turned to the girls, who already were rising from the wicker sofa. “Let’s allow the doctor and his assistant to enjoy the gazebo,” he said, motioning for the twins to hurry along. As they limped past, Melilla turned her head and slipped Abigail a furtive smile.
It was eight o’clock that evening when Abigail arrived at the dining room to find only Lillian and Ronnie there and just four places set at the long table.
“Sad to say, we’ve lost all our gentlemen,” Lillian said apologetically. “Joe and Franklin are tied up in some sort of meeting, and I’m afraid Ludwik won’t be joining us either.”
Abigail could barely conceal her resentment at being shoved aside to dine with the ladies while Franklin and Joe discussed their plans for the Institute, which she felt certain they were doing at that very moment. She wished now that she could have gone inside the old asylum this morning. At least she would be able to better visualize what they were thinking, how the building might be converted into the luxury hospital-resort that Franklin had described. Given its dilapidated condition, not to mention the forbidding aura of its fortress-like façade, such a transformation was difficult to imagine.
And there were her other questions as well. How soon would all this happen? And when it did, what would it mean for her?
“I’m sure she’ll be down any minute,” Lillian was saying. Abigail had not been paying attention but surmised that Lillian was referring to the countess.
“Actually, I’m afraid she won’t,” said Ronnie. “She’s not feeling well. It’s best if she stays up in her room.”
“What a pity,” Abigail murmured, though she was relieved to be spared more of the countess’s rants about the twins and everyone else she deemed unworthy. She could not bear another evening of it, not while there was s
o much else on her mind. Literally overnight, everything in her life had changed. Her whole future seemed up in the air, dependent not only on Franklin but on Joe Radcliff as well.
“I had no idea Alexandra was ill. I’ll have a tray sent right up to her.”
Lillian started to get up, but Ronnie stopped her. “Honestly, she doesn’t want anything. It’s best just to leave her alone. I’m sure she’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Oh.” Lillian hesitated, her eyes searching Ronnie’s face. “Is it one of those evenings?”
“I’m afraid it is.”
Abigail wondered what they might be talking about, but brushed it off. It was none of her business, and besides, she didn’t really care—though, out of politeness, she felt obliged to say something. “I hope it’s nothing serious.” Lillian simply shook her head.
Their meal proceeded pleasantly enough, and the conversation, though hardly scintillating, at least kept Abigail from examining and reexamining everything that had passed between Franklin and her over the last twenty-four hours. Still, it was difficult to keep her eyes from glazing over as Lillian went into excruciating detail regarding the trials and tribulations of managing her household staff, while Ronnie recounted her various travels abroad. Though Abigail doubted it was Ronnie’s intent to boast, it was clear that her time had been spent eating, drinking, and cavorting with a great number of extraordinarily wealthy people.
What a strange bird Ronnie was! It was astonishing that she and Alexandra would even be friends, let alone . . . well, the basis of their relationship remained unclear. If Ronnie was a so-called New Woman, even going so far as to adopt men’s clothing and short-cropped hair, the countess did not strike Abigail as that sort. Not the way she constantly flirted with Franklin—unless all that might be mere subterfuge. After all, if Abigail had learned anything over the past few months, it was that appearances can be deceiving.
Such thoughts kept her occupied for the duration of dinner, but she was relieved when dessert was finally over. Ronnie left to check on Alexandra. When Lillian asked if there was anything in particular Abigail would like to do, she replied that she’d love to read for a while and was greatly pleased that, after accompanying her to the library, Lillian left her there alone.
The Beauty Doctor Page 14