“I am perfectly well, Michelle.”
“You do not appear perfectly well.”
Her eyes shifted toward the woman with the chestnut hair who was just leaving. “I suppose you see many such cases.”
“Far too many.”
She drew in her breath and clenched her fists; I could see her will asserting itself and bringing her under its control. “I wish I could send Collins to visit the drunken brute.”
“That would do little good. You would only provide me with yet another patient, and the waiting room is already overflowing. Besides, such women are often fiercely protective of their husbands. She may even love him.”
“Love? You dare to speak of love, when...” She drew herself up even straighter and now the rage made her eyes shine. “Oh, if I were only...” She seized her lower lip between her teeth. “Forgive me, Michelle. You have work to do.”
I smiled. “You have done quite well. This is, after all, your second full day out with me. Most of my friends cannot even last through a single morning.”
That was at about three o’clock, and I saw the last patient around half past five. Unfortunately, it was the type of case which never fails to upset me. The woman was barely twenty, her baby just six months old. The infant seemed half dead, his eyes glazed over, his limbs long and spindly; he resembled some plant raised in darkness, the long stems a desperate attempt to grow its way out of the dark and into the light.
“How many drops have you been giving this child?” My voice shook and I tried to regain my composure.
The girl’s eyes regarded me warily. “Drops?”
“Drops. What is it—laudanum?”
“I wouldn’t give ’im no laud’num or whatever. It’s only cordial.”
I sat back wearily on my desk. I did not believe in corsets, stays, bustles, and voluminous clothing, so it was fairly easy for me to do so. My head had begun to ache, and I kneaded my forehead briefly with my palm. “Godfrey’s Cordial, I suppose?”
The girl still regarded me warily, and with reason—a sudden urge came over me to slap her. She nodded reluctantly.
“I don’t suppose you know what an opiate is? No, of course not. Godfrey’s is only a weaker version of laudanum. If you keep doing this to your child... You might as well poison him outright and be done with it.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she put her fist over her mouth. “Poison ’im?”
My anger drained away, leaving me both tired and sad. “I don’t mean to be cruel, but Godfrey’s is very bad for babies.”
“I ’ave to get my sewin’ work finished, and ’e just won’t keep quiet otherwise.”
I handed her a handkerchief. “Blow your nose, dear, and don’t cry. It will do no one any good.” She complied loudly. “Have you no relative or friend who could help care for the child during the day?”
She shook her head. “No one, ma’am.”
I sighed, then clenched my teeth. Violet seized my arm. “You look so weary.” She took her purse and turned sternly to the girl. “You must work, I suppose, so that you and your child can live?”
The girl nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”
“If you did not have to work, would you promise not to give the baby Godfrey’s Cordial?”
She thrust her jaw forward. “But I ’ave to work.”
Violet took a gold sovereign from her purse. “Not necessarily. This should get you by for a while, and if the baby is better I will give you another, then another.” The girl stared in amazement at the coin. “Will you promise me?”
The girl again put her fist over her mouth, then nodded.
“Take it, then.”
The girl clenched her fist about the coin, then clamped her hand over her chest. She stared at Violet in disbelief as if an angel had suddenly appeared before her.
“Bring him here in a month, and if he is better, you will have another coin. The doctor will see to it.”
The girl nodded wildly. “Yes, ma’am.” She put the coin in her tiny purse, then took the baby, who had hardly moved.
“Wait,” I said. “You must stop the Godfrey’s only gradually.”
I gave her instructions on how to taper off the dose and had her repeat them. She stammered them out, then curtsied first to me, then Violet. “Thank you, ma’am. Bless you for savin’ me and my babe.”
Violet would not seem to look at her. “Remember your promise.”
“Oh, I will, ma’am—I swear.” She turned, slid aside the cloth curtain of the screen, and departed.
I sat down on my desk once more. “I too thank you, Violet. I have often thought... If only I could hand out fistfuls of money, more of my patients would live. I don’t know what to do with such cases. They make me so... angry. Angry at everyone—the stupid girls, their wretched employers, our proud, self-righteous countrymen... Pardon me, I know it is late for the soapbox. Why do you not sit down for a moment? I think we are actually finished for the day.”
Violet stared longingly at the chair. “Perhaps I shall, but only for a moment. My corset is so tightly laced I fear I cannot both breath and sit simultaneously.”
“I warned you to wear your stays loose.”
“But then I would need a new wardrobe because none of my dresses would fit. Alas, Dame Fashion is a stern mistress. We of the gentler sex must keep ourselves ever beautiful, must we not?”
She said it so gravely, that I gave her an incredulous stare. She began to laugh in earnest. “The look you gave me! Oh, now I shall never be able to sit.”
I also began to laugh. Our laughter had a certain frayed, lunatic edge to it. We had passed a very long day together.
The curtain opened, and a hesitant face appeared. Blonde curls showed under the volunteer nurse’s cap, as well as rosy cheeks and blue eyes. The face radiated youth, health and eagerness, a combination all my poor patients lacked.
“Dr. Doudet Vernier?”
“Yes, Jenny?”
“Is everything... well?”
“Oh, yes. Violet and I were only... We are fine. Are we finished?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Good.” I stood up and set my stethoscope on the desk.
Jenny was watching me carefully, the hint of a frown showing on her broad, smooth forehead. Her father was a well-to-do merchant who sold fine china and silverware, a proud man who had not forgotten his humble origins and who did not aspire to social snobbery. His wife was a bit insipid for my taste, but Jenny was both intelligent and good-hearted. I had met her at a party six months ago and casually discussed the clinic with her. Next week and every week since, she had come to the clinic on my day there. We had talked about women and the medical profession on several occasions. Jenny was very shy, but I had tried to encourage her to consider becoming a physician. She was to be married in a few months, and I hoped her husband would not be the type to lock his wife up in the castle tower. Obviously she wanted to ask me something.
“What is it, Jenny?”
She stared at me gravely, licked her lips, but said nothing.
“Come, my dear, what is it? You can tell me.”
“It is something... of a personal nature, Dr. Doudet Vernier.”
“Yes?”
She gazed past me at Violet who was taking off the white apron which all the nurses and volunteers wore. Violet raised only her right eyebrow—a feat I had always envied. “I shall tell Collins to have the carriage brought round.”
“I shall not be long, I think.” I gave Jenny a questioning look.
She shook her head. “No, Dr. Doudet Vernier.”
Violet closed the curtain behind her, and I sat wearily on the wooden chair by the examining table. “Jenny, we have known each other long enough and our ages are near enough that you could call me Michelle. Dr. Doudet Vernier seems too formidable coming from you.”