“First, I should tell you that Ludwik is a fraud. You remember how he pretended to be so outraged that Joe would offer him money for the twins? It was all an act. He had every intention of striking a deal with Joe, right from the beginning. That’s why he brought the girls to Scarsdale.”
Abigail was dumbfounded. There had to be some mistake! “But he loves the twins. And they love him.”
“I don’t know about all that, but it seems the baron has fallen on hard times. Then, lo and behold, along comes Joe Radcliff with money to burn and a fetish for freaks—a fortuitous situation for both.” Turning back to the blueprint, he picked up a pen and hastily made a brief notation in the margin, adding, “Whether the girls have surgery or not is now entirely up to Joe—and me, of course.”
“You make it sound like Joe owns them.” The idea of it was reprehensible. The twins had been with Ludwik for eight years. They were like a family.
“The fact of the matter is that Ludwik no longer wishes to be the girls’ guardian, and Joe has agreed to assume that responsibility. Apparently Lillian has always been unhappy that she and Joe couldn’t have children. And she’s very fond of the girls.”
Abigail was so overwhelmed by what Franklin had said about Ludwik that she only partially processed this latest tidbit. How could she have so completely misjudged Ludwik’s character? She would have sworn nothing could ever separate him from those girls. “Are you really sure about all this?”
Franklin straightened up. “Yes, but the details are not my business, nor are they yours. I want you to stay out of the whole matter. Do you understand? No meddling.” He put aside his pen. “Now, you said there were calls?”
After what she had just heard, she found it difficult to turn her thoughts to the affairs of the office. But of course she must. There was the matter of a patient who seemed uncommonly distressed. “Mrs. Moser. You injected her with paraffin, remember? She was very upset on the telephone, and I could barely make sense of anything she said, except that something seems to have gone wrong.”
Franklin had again become distracted by the blueprints but now he paused. “Telephone her now, and tell her to come in immediately. This afternoon.”
“But it’s almost five.”
“I don’t care. I can’t have a patient like Mrs. Moser complaining about me all over town. All I need is for Joe to get wind of it!” He went back to making notes. “Don’t worry. It can’t be anything too serious. Just telephone her and get her in here pronto.”
She dared not argue, yet neither could she forget that Paddy would be in front of her apartment at six to pick up Shaena. If she wasn’t there, might he come to the office looking for her?
“Abigail!” he said impatiently. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Of course, I’ll telephone her right away.”
It was nearly six when Mrs. Moser walked through the door, dressed in an expensive turquoise-and-black plaid dress with a fitted jacket that made her appear quite chic despite her matronly figure. She wore a lovely matching hat, turquoise with tan ostrich feathers and a black bow; at the time, Abigail thought nothing of the dark chiffon veil drawn over her face.
“Where is he?” Mrs. Moser demanded, preempting Abigail’s standard greeting. “I want to see that man right now.”
“If you’d like to take a seat, Mrs. Moser, I’ll let Dr. Rome know that you’re here.”
“I will not take a seat, young lady. How dare he keep me waiting even one second, after what he’s done to me! How he’s ruined me!”
Abigail was taken aback by the woman’s tone but even more by what she had said. It seemed that something as benign as a paraffin injection could hardly be the cause of anyone’s ruination. She wondered if Mrs. Moser was merely disappointed that her wrinkles had not totally disappeared.
“I assure you, Dr. Rome has no intention of keeping you waiting.” Abigail hesitated, wondering if she should attempt to find out more. It would be helpful to Franklin if he could be somewhat prepared. “Could I tell him what specifically is bothering you?”
With a dramatic sweep of her hand, Mrs. Moser raised the veil. Abigail caught her breath. The woman’s cheeks and lower face, all around the areas where she had been injected, were riddled with large, angry-looking lumps, some of them oozing thick, yellowish pus.
“Look at this!” She waved her gloved hand around her face like she was swatting at flies. “I can’t be seen in public. Thank heavens my husband is away on business. It’s a nightmare! And your Dr. Rome said everything would be fine! Does this look fine to you?”
Abigail wanted to reassure her but was finding it difficult to maintain her own composure, given the woman’s horrifying appearance. “Naturally you’re concerned. But I’m sure Dr. Rome will be able to help you. Please, try not to worry.”
“Don’t worry? How would you like to wake up one morning and see this?” Mrs. Moser snapped, her eyes filling with tears as she again gestured toward her disfigured face.
“The doctor will know exactly what to do. Please, come this way.”
Abigail showed the patient into the exam room. She had planned to intercept Franklin before he went in, but then the telephone rang, and by the time she was finished he already had entered and closed the door behind him. Lingering in the hallway, she could hear the hysterical pitch of Mrs. Moser’s voice, the deep, steady tone of Franklin’s. She had always admired his way with patients; he seemed to know equally well how to excite their imaginations or diffuse their anxieties. But in a case like this, how much could words help? Mrs. Moser was right—Abigail couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to be in her position. Even worse, she felt a shared responsibility for the woman’s misery. She had handed Franklin the syringe.
She could hear Mrs. Moser sobbing now and the quiet murmur of whatever Franklin was saying to comfort her. Abigail went back to her desk in the front room and sat down. Her stomach was churning. It wasn’t that she had never stopped to think about the risks of beauty surgery, but until now they had seemed only theoretical. Franklin had never dwelt on the subject of complications. But his training must have prepared him for something like this. Of course he would know what to do.
After another fifteen minutes, he and Mrs. Moser exited the exam room. Her entire head was wrapped up like a mummy, her face covered with a white bandage so that none of the lesions were visible. He guided her by the arm toward Abigail’s desk.
“Miss Platford, please schedule Mrs. Moser for the operating room tomorrow. It will be a very short little procedure. Give us an hour, starting at ten.”
“Are you sure it’s going to work?” Mrs. Moser whined. “Because if it doesn’t—”
“You’ll be beautiful. In the meantime, as I said, don’t remove those bandages. I want you at home, no going out and about. You said your husband is away for another few days?”
“Yes, until next Wednesday. I can’t let him see me like this.”
“He won’t.” Franklin reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “This is our little secret, right?”
She sighed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “It will have to be. I wouldn’t want a soul to know how stupid I am to have done such a thing.” Then suddenly she straightened herself up, raising a finger and shaking it in Franklin’s face. “I’m warning you, Dr. Rome, I know a lot of people in this city—important people. I can destroy your reputation in a minute if I choose to! And believe me, if you don’t fix this mess you’ve created, and fast, I’ll make sure no woman of means ever steps across the threshold of this office again.”
“Mrs. Moser, trust me.”
Her eyes stared out through the round openings in her bandages. It was obvious to Abigail, despite her bluster, how frightened she was. “Very well, Doctor. I’ll see you at ten o’clock.”
Abigail watched, barely breathing, as Mrs. Moser exited the office. Through the front window, she saw her climb into the hansom that had been waiting for her. In another minute she was gone.
“Oh my goodness, Fran
klin! What happened? What caused such a thing?” She secretly hoped he would say it was something Mrs. Moser had done herself, through negligence or ignorance, and not his fault at all. A woman like that might easily think herself above following a doctor’s orders. It would not be unheard of.
Franklin shook his head.
“But she’ll be all right?” His silence and his look of concern were unsettling.
“Yes, yes.”
“But there were so many of those awful-looking lesions! She won’t be scarred?”
“This is not the time for an interrogation, Abigail,” he snapped. “Don’t make this any harder for me. You think I like seeing one of my patients look like that?”
“But you will be able to help her.”
He slammed his fist on the top of her desk. “Now I must answer to you?”
She was startled by the extreme of his anger. But of course he was right; her job was to assist, not antagonize him. “Just tell me what I can do to help.”
“Make sure no other patients are scheduled for tomorrow, not until Mrs. Moser is well on her way.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday. No one is scheduled to come in.”
“Good.”
He stormed off, and a moment later she heard the door to his private office slam shut. She could imagine what he was doing—pouring a brandy, pacing in front of the window. Perhaps cursing her under his breath! When would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut? He’d told Mrs. Moser he could fix it. He’d promised everything would be all right.
She consulted the clock on her desk. It was past six thirty and unlikely that Franklin would need her further. It seemed certain in fact that he would prefer her out of his sight. Abigail hurriedly gathered up her hat and parasol and made her escape. She only hoped that Paddy would still be waiting.
“You ain’t told nobody what happened, right? About the dog?”
Paddy and Abigail stood just outside the door to her bedroom, about to look in on Shaena. Judging from the quiet within, the little girl must be sound asleep.
She patted the boy’s shoulder reassuringly. She had assumed he would be concerned for his sister’s condition, but obviously the matter of the dog weighed at least as heavily on his mind.
“I haven’t told anyone, and I don’t intend to. In fact, I need you to help me keep it a secret. You can do that by promising me you won’t ever come to my office again, all right? If you need me, you’ll come here. Around this time. No earlier, no later.”
“I’m not stupid, you know.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest that you are. It’s just that—”
“I know why you don’t want me at your office.” She could see from the steely look in his eyes what was behind his attitude and that he understood more than she had wanted to give him credit for. “It’s okay. I’m not sorry it happened.”
Abigail wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him, so elated was she by that simple declaration. It felt like a vindication of sorts. Whether what had happened to him was right or wrong, he was glad for it. Wasn’t that all that really mattered?
Abigail took his hand. “Let’s go check on Shaena.”
She opened the door. The window shades were closed, but the lamp on the night table was lit.
“Ssshhh,” she whispered.
They stopped at the end of the bed, peering over the footboard.
“Jaysus! She’s a wreck!” he exclaimed loudly, turning to her with an accusatory look. “You said you fixed her!”
Abigail was startled, not only by the volume but the tone of his voice. She glanced at Shaena, who, miraculously, continued sleeping with a tiny smile on her lips. “It takes a long time for scars to heal, Paddy. Surely you know that.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “How long?”
“Months. Maybe years.” She wished there was a way to make it sound better, but there wasn’t. “Your sister is going to need your support. She’s going to need you to tell her she’s beautiful and you love her—because not everyone is going to be so kind.” She hesitated, afraid to ask but needing to know. “Are your parents prepared for this?”
Paddy looked down at the floor, tracing an imaginary circle with the toe of his filthy boot. “I ain’t told nobody nothing.”
“But they must have asked where she was last night—where you both were. They must have been worried.”
“Nope,” he said again. “Da’s wrote off the map mosta the time, and Mum—she would be worried, ’cept she’s dead.”
Though it was not what she’d hoped to hear, she wasn’t really surprised.
“But do you have someone we can trust to take care of Shaena? She needs to be very careful of her face, you know.”
“My auntie. She watches after her now. She’s real nice.”
Abigail felt slightly more hopeful. “You tell your auntie to make sure Shaena keeps her face clean, but she’ll have to be very gentle with it. No harsh scrubbing. A week from today, I want you to bring her back here so I can take out the stitches. Six o’clock just like tonight—except I’ll try to be more prompt next time. Can you remember to do that?”
He nodded, still staring at his sister with a look bordering on revulsion. Shaena stirred and then her eyes fluttered open.
“Paddy!” she exclaimed, smiling and raising herself up. “Where’d you come from?”
“Where do you think?” he said grudgingly.
“Can Paddy stay here tonight with me?” she asked, looking up at Abigail with pleading eyes.
“No, sweetheart. Paddy’s come to take you back with him.”
Her face fell. “But I like it here. I like this bed,” she said, lying back down and pulling the covers up around her chin. “It’s soft.”
She was tempted to tell Paddy to leave his sister there for another night, but she knew that she shouldn’t. It would only make it harder when the little girl had to go.
“Let’s get you up and dressed,” Abigail said gently.
“But I don’t want to go.” She clung tighter to the comforter. “I want to live here, with you.”
The lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. “How about this: Paddy will bring you back here in a week, and then I can take the two of you to the soda shop. Would you like that?”
The little girl’s lips settled into a pout.
“Come on, Shaena,” Paddy said gruffly. “I got stuff to do.”
Giving Abigail a mournful look, Shaena tossed off the covers and wriggled over to the edge of the bed. Abigail retrieved her clothes, which she had washed, and helped her to dress. When they were finished, she lifted the child down and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“Now you be a good girl and take care of yourself. Don’t touch your face except to wash it. And don’t rub it.”
Shaena nodded glumly. “What’s a soda shop?”
Of course she wouldn’t know! Abigail felt ashamed not to have realized that such indulgences were not part of life’s fabric for children like these.
“It’s a place where they serve ice cream. You’ll love it,” she said, kneeling down to wrap Shaena in her arms one last time. Feeling the child relax in her embrace, she was at once astonished and a bit frightened by the affection she felt for the little girl. Was it only because she was her first patient, the only patient she had ever been able to call her own? She gave the child a gentle squeeze and released her.
The three of them walked together to the front door. Suddenly, Paddy stopped. He pulled something from the pocket of his trousers.
“Here, maybe you want this,” he said, extending his hand. Abigail saw the glint of silver.
“Thank you.” Smiling, she took the key, even though she didn’t need it anymore. “And I have something for you.”
She pulled a thin wad of bills from under the edge of her sleeve. It was more than she could afford, but she wanted them to have it. “You take this to your auntie. Tell her it’s to help out with you and your sister.” The way Paddy snatched it from her hand, Abigail had t
o wonder if she was a fool to trust him. “Now, you’ll give it all to your auntie, won’t you? I want you to promise me.”
“Yea, yea, I promise,” he said, hastily shoving the money into his pocket.
“Paddy, look at me when you say that.”
Sheepishly, he raised his eyes. She thought that she saw in them the faintest glimmer of a conscience. At least she hoped so.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll give it to her. I promise.”
CHAPTER 14
“I couldn’t sleep a wink last night, not with this horrible bandage on my face.” Mrs. Moser handed Abigail her parasol, gloves, and yet another magnificent hat, this one fashioned of blue felt, draped with black chiffon, and decorated with huge red silk rosettes and bird-of-paradise plumes. It was the kind of hat that announces quite clearly its wearer is a person of importance.
“Your hat—I’ve never seen anything so lovely and colorful,” Abigail said, trying to lighten the mood. After the way she had upset Franklin yesterday, she was determined to be a steadying force today.
“It should be, for what it cost me! They think they can charge you three times as much just because it’s from Paris. I could barely fit it on my head the way I'm all bandaged up.”
Mrs. Moser began nervously twisting the white lace handkerchief she had kept in her hand.
“I’ve never been so humiliated in my life, hiding away like a recluse, like some awful freak! I sent my entire staff, even my driver, away on holiday, just so no one would know. This morning, I came again in a common cab—if you can imagine that! But this fellow refused to wait for me. I don’t blame him. He probably thought I was some ancient mummy, risen from the dead!”
“I know all this is a terrible inconvenience for you. And coming in on a Saturday, too.”
“Inconvenience! That’s hardly what I would call it. He’s ruined my face! Absolutely ruined it! I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do,” she cried, her voice rising suddenly to a hysterical pitch. “I’d sooner be dead than go through life like this! I’d sooner be dead!”
“Please, Mrs. Moser. You mustn’t say such things. You heard what Dr. Rome said. He promised everything will be all right.”
The Beauty Doctor Page 20