The Beauty Doctor

by Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard

  It was nearly four thirty when she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, Dr. Whittaker, accompanied by Prudence, entered the reception room. Both looked surprised to see her still there.

  “I suppose you can take over now, Miss Platford,” Prudence said. Perhaps sensing that Abigail wished to speak with Dr. Whittaker alone, she quickly excused herself and disappeared down the hall.

  “There was no need for you to wait,” Dr. Whittaker said sharply.

  “I thought perhaps—”

  “You thought wrong, Miss Platford. You and I have no further business.” He walked past her toward the door.

  “But, Dr. Whittaker—”

  “Good day,” he said, clamping his bowler on his head as he hurried out. Abigail watched through the window as he hailed a passing hansom cab.

  She went to the door and locked it. Then she made her way down the hall and up the back stairs to Franklin’s apartment. She rapped on the door. It took Prudence longer than usual to answer. When she finally did, the look of distress on the elderly woman’s kind, simple face told Abigail something was terribly wrong.

  “Oh, Miss Platford! You don’t know how happy I am to see you. It’s the twins—or at least one of them. Seems Melilla is sick.”

  “Since when?”

  “Well, I noticed she looked a bit peaked yesterday. I didn’t think much of it. But all of a sudden, she’s taken a turn for the worse.”

  Abigail swept past her and ran down the hall to the girls’ room. The door was open. The second she stepped inside, she could smell the acid, cheesy odor of vomit. Valencia and Melilla were lying on top of the bed; Melilla looked pale. She rushed over to them and placed her hand on Melilla’s forehead, then Valencia’s. Melilla was slightly warm but not alarmingly so.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Melilla. When did you start feeling bad? And what are your symptoms—all of them?”

  “Symptoms?”

  “What other things feel bad, besides your stomach?”

  “My head. Hers, too,” Melilla said, giving a sideways nod to her sister.

  “You think it was something you two ate?”

  “No. It’s that awful—” She stopped, her eyes filling up with tears. “Why they take Ludwik away? Why they lock him up?”

  “What did Dr. Whittaker say to you?” Abigail could hardly contain her outrage at the man. And he had the nerve to call himself a psychiatrist!

  “He say Ludwik is a bad person,” Valencia said. “Ludwik not coming back.”

  Abigail sat down on the bed next to them, trying desperately to think of something she might say to cheer them. She forced a smile. “I have good news. I’ve located someone who can straighten it all out. Ludwik is a good person. We know that. It’s all been a terrible mistake. But Mr. Storey will tell them. Do you remember him? Mr. Storey—in London?”

  If Samuel Storey was an old friend of the family, as Ludwik had said, it seemed likely the twins would know him, too. Yet her question drew only blank looks from them both.

  “He runs a newspaper—a whole bunch of them. Samuel Storey. Are you sure you don’t know him?”

  Suddenly Valencia’s eyes grew wide. “Uncle Sammy!”

  Abigail sighed in relief. “So we’ve nothing to worry about. Your Uncle Sammy will tell Dr. Whittaker all about Ludwik and how good he’s been to you.”

  Melilla licked her dry lips. “That doctor—he ask if Ludwik ever touch us in bad places.”

  “We tell him no, but he keep asking and asking,” Valencia chimed in. “He say awful things and then he want us to say all of them true.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “No, but he not shut up. Stupid man!” Valencia said, starting to sound a little more like her old self. Abigail smiled and glanced at Melilla, hoping she might see a hint of sparkle returning to her eyes.

  “I want the two of you to rest now. And put Dr. Whittaker and everything he said completely out of your minds.”

  “But what we going to do without Ludwik?” Melilla said. “Where we go?”

  “You are not going to be without Ludwik. I promise you that,” Abigail added, though she wasn’t sure of it herself. What chance did she have, pitted against men like Joe Radcliff and the doctors from Indiana, powerful men who could impose their will on others without anyone questioning their right to do so?

  She stood up to leave.

  “Where you going?” Valencia demanded, grabbing Abigail’s arm.

  Abigail had the idea that perhaps another lesson from Gray’s Anatomy might take their minds off Ludwik. “Just downstairs for a minute.” She gave them both a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  She headed for the door, where Prudence stood nervously watching. “They both were crying their eyes out,” she whispered in Abigail’s ear. “They didn’t know what to think after what that awful doctor said.”

  Abigail drew her into the hallway so that they could speak more freely. “I’m curious—did Dr. Rome speak with them this morning? Did he tell them Dr. Whittaker was coming?”

  “No, Dr. Rome didn’t pay the girls any mind. To be truthful, he hasn’t been himself lately. He doesn’t seem to notice too much around here.”

  She paused, wondering how much Prudence might know of Franklin’s current trouble. “Well, let’s make sure they drink plenty of water. If you can, try to get some hot soup into them, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry I didn’t say something yesterday, but I didn’t think it was anything really.” She lowered her voice again. “That doctor—I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but—”

  “It’s all right, Prudence. What did he say to the girls?”

  “Sounded to me like he was practically threatening them. Said if they didn’t tell him what that fellow—what’s his name?”

  “Baron Rutkowski. Ludwik.”

  “Right. Said he’d make things tougher on the man if the girls didn’t cooperate. And then he started talking about all kinds of terrible things, obscene things, trying to get them to say this Ludwik fellow had forced them into that kind of behavior. Well, it was something to hear, Miss Platford! I just hope none of it was true.”

  “What did Melilla and Valencia say?”

  “They said the man never laid a finger on them. They denied every accusation that doctor made, over and over.”

  “I thought it would be the case. I knew it.”

  “But what’s going to happen to the girls now? Wasn’t that fellow their guardian? If they’ve got him locked up . . .”

  “Baron Rutkowski is going to be released from the hospital. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “Oh, that’s good to hear, ma’am. I just hope those girls survive all this. I’ve never seen them look so poorly.”

  “Yes, I know.” Suddenly there welled up in Abigail’s chest such a flood of contempt for Joe Radcliff and everyone associated with him—and, with it, a desire to take the twins far away from there, somewhere they would not be exploited by people seeking nothing but their own glory.

  CHAPTER 21

  Abigail burst into the reception room, intent on grabbing her Gray’s Anatomy and hurrying back upstairs to the ailing twins. She considered it a blessing that Franklin was not around. Though she would have welcomed a doctor’s opinion, the girls’ condition did not seem overly serious, and his presence would only make her uncomfortable. And how would she explain her own sudden recovery?

  “Miss Platford!”

  Startled, she looked up to see Paddy standing just inside the front door. He must have let himself in. She was surprised that he would, after she had made him promise never to come there.

  But then she saw that something was not right about him. He was disheveled and out of breath. And there were white trails on his dirty cheeks that looked suspiciously like the tracks of tears.

  “What is it?” she asked, full of dread. Perhaps something had happened to Shaena . . .

  “Auntie’s dead.”

  Abigail caught her
breath. “Riana?”

  He nodded, his lip quivering slightly. “Killed herself. With a rope.”

  “Dear lord! When?”

  “They said it was last night. Maybe early this morning. Nobody really knows. They found her in—in that place where she works.”

  “What place?”

  “Mama Sally’s. It’s a—” He looked down, drawing a circle with his toe.

  “A brothel?” Abigail asked gently. She had always suspected that Riana’s story about contracting syphilis from her husband might not be the truth—or not the whole truth.

  He looked up at her, his eyes moist. “Auntie used to be the prettiest. But then—well, you seen her. Sally kept her around to clean up after the others, long as she didn’t show her face. Said it would be bad for business.”

  Abigail thought back to the morning she’d met Riana and how the woman had begged for help. Riana had turned to her as a last resort. She had let her down.

  “Where is Shaena?” Abigail asked suddenly.

  “That’s why I come. Without Auntie to watch after her, Sally’s gonna take her.”

  She frowned. “You mean the madam? She’s going to look after her?”

  “I guess. But—well, Mama Sally makes everybody work. There’s girls in there not too much older than Shaena. She won’t be no different—even with the scar.” His eyes searched Abigail’s face. “I know you like her. You took care of her once. I just thought maybe . . .”

  Everything he had said frightened her, including this last not-so-subtle suggestion. But he was trying to protect his little sister, and Abigail felt proud of him. “You’re a good boy,” she said.

  “So you’ll come?”

  She hesitated. She was in no position to assume responsibility for a child. But perhaps she could talk to this Mama Sally and figure out somewhere for Shaena to go. Somewhere she would be safe.

  “Yes, Paddy. I’ll come.”

  Paddy rode with his nose pressed against the window of the hansom. “Mama Sally’s don’t need a sign. Everybody knows where it is.”

  Abigail barely heard him. She was lost in thought, worrying about the twins. She hated to leave them alone, knowing how upset they were. But she could not delay. Every minute that Shaena remained in that brothel was a minute in which harm could come to her—the kind of harm from which a young girl might never recover.

  “There it is! Right over there, next to Fat Jack’s Saloon,” Paddy yelled.

  Abigail shouted up the hatch for the driver to pull over. He reined in his horse and steered to the side of the road.

  Paddy opened the door and jumped out. In a surprisingly gallant gesture, he turned and offered Abigail his hand—the same one with which he had just finished wiping his nose.

  “Are you scared?” Paddy asked after she had disembarked from the cab.

  “Not at all.” She stepped up to pay the driver. “Will you please wait? I won’t be long.”

  Beneath his canvas cap, the man broke into a toothless grin. “I ain’t no personal chauffeur, you know.”

  “I won’t be more than ten minutes, and I’ll pay you double fare for the ride home.”

  He squinted at her, pulling the cap lower over his eyes. “I’ll have a smoke, but if you ain’t back by the time I’m done, you’ll have to find yourself another ride.”

  Abigail knew she would do no better with him. She nodded, and then she and Paddy hurried off to Mama Sally’s, a dilapidated two-story wooden structure crammed between Fat Jack’s and another tavern called the King’s Throne.

  “I’ll wait for you out here,” Paddy said when they reached the red door.

  “You’re not coming in?” She was surprised—and a bit alarmed. She had never before set foot in a house of ill repute.

  He shrugged. “Mama Sally don’t like me much.”

  “You could have told me before,” she scolded. Resolutely, she put her hand on the knob. “Then you might as well go back to the cab. Try to keep the driver from leaving.”

  Paddy nodded and took off, seeming grateful for the assignment.

  Abigail reluctantly stepped inside.

  The air in Mama Sally’s front room was dense and suffocating, the smoke of incense and cigars layered with perfume. It was nearly six; the shades were drawn tightly, as they most likely always were. The only light came from an overhead gasolier. Several women wearing silk robes left open to afford a glimpse of creamy flesh lay about on red velvet sofas, talking and laughing with half a dozen men. It seemed that Mama Sally’s must attract patrons from outside the neighborhood, as these gentlemen were fairly well dressed in business jackets and ties.

  Everyone seemed to be having a fine time—except for one girl, thin and pale and younger than the rest, who sat off to the side, alone and staring into space.

  “Mama Sally! New arrival!” One of the lounging women had spotted Abigail. A moment later, she heard the click of heels and the rustling of silk. The velvet curtain in the wide doorway to her immediate left opened with the harsh scraping of rings on the metal rod.

  “Yes?” The woman standing in the threshold was notable first for her size—not tall but extremely wide—and then her age, which was probably three times that of any other woman in the room. She was dressed in an elaborately flounced gown, fancy but out-of-date, her reddish hair piled high in a mass of curls and adorned with several brightly colored feathers. Her powdery-white face looked as if it might crack if she were to smile; it didn’t appear, however, that she had any intention of doing so.

  “Good evening. I’m looking for the proprietor of this establishment,” Abigail said, sounding a great deal more uncertain of herself than she wished.

  “You’re lookin’ at her.”

  “You’re Mama Sally?”

  “I said so, didn’t I?” She did not move from the doorway.

  “I’m a friend of Riana, the young woman who—”

  “Hung herself,” Sally broke in. “Could have done it easier some other way, but in the end it doesn’t matter. She’s out of her misery now.” She eyed Abigail suspiciously. “If you’ve come looking to collect her things, you can forget it. She didn’t have a pot to piss in. I only let her stay here out of the goodness of my heart.”

  “I’m not here for her things. I’ve come about the little girl—Shaena.”

  Sally raised one eyebrow. “What about her?”

  “I just wondered who will be taking care of her now.”

  “And what business is it of yours?”

  Abigail noticed suddenly how quiet the room had become. She looked behind her. Everyone had left, except for the young girl sitting alone. She turned back to Sally, who was lighting up a cigar.

  “As I said, I’m a friend of Riana’s.”

  Sally extinguished the match with a sharp flick of her wrist. “Riana didn’t have any friends.” She took a step toward Abigail, eyeing her up and down. “You’re not one of those do-gooders, are you? Wanting to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

  “I just came by to make sure Shaena is all right,” said Abigail, holding her gaze steady. “I wondered what arrangements have been made for her.”

  “Arrangements?” Sally sniffed derisively. “As long as she does her work, I’ll let her stay here. That’s what her mother wanted.”

  “But Riana wasn’t her mother.”

  “I’m well aware of that, missy. I guess you didn’t know—her mother was one of my girls, too. And that little one, she would have made a pretty whore one day. A shame her face got ruined. But I’m holding out hope for her yet. Men are funny that way; sometimes they don’t mind something a bit off.”

  Abigail felt suddenly woozy. It had been a mistake to come. There was nothing she could do to help Shaena. Still, she couldn’t stop the words that escaped next from her mouth. “I’d like her to come with me.”

  Sally showed no emotion, taking her time, blowing a perfect smoke ring. “It’ll cost you. Three hundred.”

  “Why, that’s absurd! You don’
t own her.”

  Sally’s eyes narrowed. “She may be young, but she’s still worth something to me, you know. I’m not just giving her away.”

  Abigail drew herself up. “I can have her removed from here, you know. There are laws—”

  Sally held the cigar tightly between her teeth, regarding Abigail as she would a harmless insect. “I’ll give her to you for two fifty, but that’s my final offer.”

  Abigail couldn’t believe it. There she was, engaging in the same despicable game as had Joe Radcliff when he sent Franklin to bargain with Ludwik for the twins. Except with one important difference—she meant to save Shaena.

  “All right, two fifty,” she agreed, realizing she would have to lie her way out. “Let me take her now, and I’ll bring you the money tomorrow.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t do business like that. Bring me the money; I’ll give you the girl. Until then, we’ve got no deal. And if I get a better offer in the meantime, you can be sure I’ll take it. So you’d best not dilly-dally.” She offered a smug smile, seeming to enjoy Abigail’s obvious distress. “Now, I suggest you might want to be on your way. A fine young lady such as you doesn’t want to be caught in a place like this, I’m sure.”

  “But—”

  Her smile faded abruptly. “Good day to you, miss.” Turning her back with an air of finality, she passed through the doorway and sharply drew the velvet curtain closed.

  Abigail felt awash with the bitterness of failure. Why had she allowed that woman to intimidate her? She should have called her bluff! But it was over now, and Shaena was no safer than before.

  “Just turn around and don’t say a word.”

  The voice coming from behind her was soft and breathy. She swung around to see the girl who had been sitting all alone, seemingly lost in a dream, now looking quite alert. Her finger was raised to her lips. “Ssshhh.”