The Doctor's Discretion Page 5

  There was a knock on the door.

  William looked around and then stood from his writing desk and crossed the parlor to answer it.

  Hill was standing in the hall, greatcoat and boots covered in snow.

  “May we speak?”

  “Of course.” William stepped back from the door, ushering him into the room.

  Hill made no move to take off his greatcoat or hang up his hat. Instead, he turned back to face William as he shut the door.

  The first thing William saw was that Hill now had a hand, albeit a gloved one, on his left side. It must be a prosthetic of some sort. William wondered why he hadn’t been wearing it the day before.

  “I realize we only became acquainted a few days ago. In fact, we don’t really know each other at all—but I need your help.”

  William blinked at this and then looked Hill over again, taking in the lines of strain around his mouth that had not been there the night before. “I can try.”

  Hill’s fingers tightened on the brim of his hat. “I did not lie to you, and I won’t apologize as if I had, but I...” His mouth pressed into a tense line. “One of the senior physicians brought a new patient to the hospital. Mr. Henri Moss is his name. He is being confined in our lying-in rooms but will probably be moved to the asylum permanently.”

  William tried to follow this sudden change in the conversation. “What is he suffering from?”

  Hill looked back at him, expression so bleak William felt all the breath go out of him.

  “Nothing, except for being a woman living as a man.”

  That was not what William had expected him to say. He struggled for several moments with how to respond to this before giving up. “Excuse me, I’m not sure I understand.”

  “What part?” Bitterness twisted through Hill’s voice.

  William spread his hands helplessly. It was becoming obvious this was going to be a long conversation. “Maybe we should sit down.”

  Hill nodded woodenly, and let William usher him into one of the chairs by the fire. For several moments, Hill gazed into the fire without saying anything and then straightened up, shoulders set.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come to you with this. It was inappropriate.” He rose and made to turn back to the door.

  William reached for his hand and caught it before Hill could flee. “Wait, let us talk about this, please. I want to know what’s upset you so much and if there is anything I can do to help.”

  Every line of Hill’s body spoke of tension, but he turned back to William and nodded once before reseating himself.

  “You need to understand the things they will do to him if he stays there. Strip him naked and have parades of doctors examine his body in the most intimate detail. The exact shape and size of his genitals will be discussed, maybe even written about. His body will be violated as many times and in as many ways as my colleagues see fit. And for the rest of his life, he will be a scientific curiosity. I can’t condone this or allow it to happen to anyone, least of all him.” Hill took a long breath and then met William’s gaze squarely. “Because I am like him. You need to understand that as well.”

  The realization settled inside William, a lit coal, too hot to touch without pain, so that his entire body shied away from it. He drew in a sharp breath and watched Hill’s expression crumple in devastation for a split second, and then go as hard and blank as stone.

  William rose and walked to the window, needing to put some distance between them. The sky had darkened outside the window, heavy half-frozen rain hitting the thick pane with solid taps.

  There was a small wounded part of him that wanted to weep and rage. I thought you were like me. I thought we were the same. I thought I knew who you were, but now you’re not like that at all.

  Instead, he stood still and forced himself to think. There were instances he’d heard of, now that he considered it. Acquaintances of friends mentioned in passing as being men who were women and women who were men. He’d met men who preferred to live most of the time as women. There had been men and women who had moved through the community he’d grown up in, too, about whom people had spoken with respect even while everyone knew they had not always been as they were now.

  Hill was no different from any of them, William knew that, but it felt different. Because it was one thing to know in a theoretical way such people existed, or to have met them, even. But Hill had kissed William and laughed and told him he was beautiful.

  William closed his eyes and took a careful breath, trying to clear his mind of the probably completely irrational sense of betrayal, fear, and grief that had tangled up to become one burning emotion he couldn’t even understand.

  “I need you to say something.” Hill’s voice sounded strained. “Even if it is to ask me to leave. Please.”

  William couldn’t untangle the knot of feelings about Hill or himself right now. Not when everything he’d thought was right and normal and understandable felt painful and wrong. He thought about what Hill had told him instead, about the patient at New York Hospital. It was horrifying, but it was familiar too.

  He faced Hill, who was still seated by the fire, half turned in his chair so he could watch William.

  “Several years ago now, I attended a lecture by a noted physician who put forward the theory that sodomites could be identified by the physical examination of the size and shape of their members. He’d made a study of the physiology of those who had been convicted of such crimes, and he laid out the scope of his research and findings in detail, including the drawings he’d done. This would, he argued, be used to serve as better evidence in court cases. Even if all parties denied it, the truth could be discovered by the nature of their bodies.

  “I’m always aware of myself within any group of my peers, the ways I do not quite fit into their spaces, their institutions, politics, or lives. I live in a country where slavery is still the law of the land, where people like me are bought and sold and degraded, nothing but property in the eyes of society and the law every day. I practice medicine knowing there are doctors who test their experiments on bodies like mine. I have handled books that talk about the African body as nothing more than a curiosity, a scientific specimen. You talk as if I wouldn’t understand what it would feel like to be reduced to an object by the medical community and by society, but of course, I do. I know what that feels like twice over.” Some of his early bitterness was twisting inside him. “Do you really understand that?”

  They were silent, watching each other, and then William crossed back over to the hearth and settled into the chair facing Hill’s. He leaned his elbows on his knees, fingers braided together in front of him.

  “You’re right,” Hill said, but his mouth was still turned down unhappily, his posture stiff and unyielding. “If anyone would understand, it would be you.”

  “So tell me what you need me to do.”

  “We are going to kidnap him.” Hill leaned forward. “I have a plan.”

  CHAPTER 3

  ~

  BEFORE THE SUN WAS UP, William climbed the steps to the front door of Hill’s boardinghouse.

  Hill must have been watching for him at the window because before William could knock, Hill was ushering him inside.

  He leaned against William’s side for a moment—only so he could speak softly close to William’s ear. “Be quiet. You’re technically not supposed to be here, but hopefully, we’ll be gone before anyone else wakes.”

  William tried to move as quietly as possible while Hill hustled them both into his room.

  Once they were safely in with the door closed, Hill poured coffee into two cups. “The room next to mine isn’t occupied at the moment—the man who was there just moved out to get married—but we should still try to keep our voices low.”

  William nodded, taking the cup Hill handed him. Hill was still in his shirtsleeves and stockinged feet, without waistcoat, coat, or cravat, his hair curling a little damply against his neck. He was wearing black wool trousers and a v
ery dark-green waistcoat.

  “I need to finish dressing.” He gave William a small apologetic smile and crossed the room, opened his wardrobe and rummage through it.

  William lifted his cup to his lips and let his gaze drift to the writing desk across from him. It was piled with a clutter of papers, an inkwell, and a much-used collection of quills. The sheer amount of disorder on display made William’s fingers tighten with the desire to straighten it all for him, but he refrained.

  On top of a stack of papers was the prosthetic hand William had only seen Hill wear the night before.

  “I’m going to need to put that on in a few minutes.”

  William turned to see Hill much closer to fully clothed, although he carried his coat.

  Fear snaked through him for the first time that morning. What they were going to do later that day abruptly became much more real.

  “I still think the plan is flawed,” William said.

  “But you didn’t have a better one.” Hill dropped his coat over the back of the desk chair and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, baring a pale forearm dusted with dark hair.

  “If we are found out, we risk fourteen years for kidnapping. And if the investigation turns up your true nature, then you’ll be in the same position as your Mr. Moss, perhaps worse since the entire medical community will feel you made a mockery of them. Not to mention that a charge of sodomy is ten years in prison, and if there is an investigation—”

  “I am aware of all of this.” Hill’s mouth had compressed into a frown. “I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours thinking of nothing else.”

  “Taking him during the day means we have a greater chance of being seen.” William was gripped by the desire to bite his nails, a habit he hadn’t given in to since he’d been a child.

  Hill sat and began fitting on his prosthetic. “There is never a time when the hospital is empty of staff. The in-house surgeon, physician, and apothecary, along with the matron, groundskeeper, and most of the servants live there. If we attempted to enter the hospital at night and were seen, I would have no excuse for our presence. At least during the day, I can pass through the building as I wish, and am often overlooked.”

  “What about any cabs we employ? The driver is bound to remember us. A well-dressed black man with a white companion could be memorable if he’s questioned later.”

  “This would be easier with a private carriage,” Hill allowed, “but neither of us has one.”

  He rolled his sleeve down over the straps of the prosthetic and stood. William paced across the room, until Hill reached out and touched his arm. He could barely feel the pressure of the touch through the wool of his coat and the linen of his shirt, but it still stopped him in his tracks.

  They stared at each other.

  “You can leave.” Hill took several steps forward until they were standing close. “This entire business is going to be trouble, but it doesn’t have to be yours.”

  “I told you I’d help.” William had meant to say it firmly and with conviction, but instead, his voice sounded a little pleading, although he wasn’t sure for what.

  Some of the tension left Hill, and he gave the first real smile William had seen on him since the night they’d spent together. He moved to cup the curve of his neck, his thumb brushing against his jawline. “I know, and I’m grateful.”

  William was gripped with the sudden desire to taste Hill again, strong enough that his hands trembled with it, but there was fear too, where there had been none the last time Hill had kissed him.

  He took a step back before either of them had the opportunity to close that last bit of distance.

  For a second, it seemed Hill would follow him, move in close again. Instead, he walked around William to collect his greatcoat and pick up a paper-wrapped bundle from off the bed.

  “Shall we go?”

  William nodded and took up his walking stick.

  They left Hill’s room and stepped side by side out onto the street to catch a cab to New York Hospital.

  ~*~

  As planned, Blackwood had the cab driver take them to Chapel Street so they could travel the rest of the distance on foot.

  It was better this way, Augustus decided; this would allow him to enter the hospital grounds through a side gate.

  Blackwood stopped once they turned onto Worth Street. “I’ll wait here for as long as I can, although I may need to walk around a bit so as not to arouse suspicion.”

  “I’ll try and get this done at the first opportunity.” Augustus reached out and clasped Blackwood’s shoulder briefly.

  Blackwood nodded, and Augustus continued on down the street by himself.

  The wall that ran along the left side of the gardens faced out onto Worth Street. Augustus took out his ring of keys when he came to the door set into the side of the wall. He unlocked it, let himself in, and locked it behind him.

  He cut through the back of the garden, behind the hospital. Two smaller stone buildings were set back from the hospital, among the ice-covered trees. Augustus headed to the icehouse and unlocked the door. The interior was stacked high with freshly cut blocks of ice, hay packed between each block. A small amount of light trickled in from the slit-like windows close to the ceiling. Augustus tucked the packages he’d been carrying in amongst the pile of hay next to the door and let himself out again.

  A path wound between the trees towards the hospital, but it would take him to the back entrance, which was not his usual point of entry. Instead he turned onto the path that curved around the side of the hospital, climbed the steps to the front door.

  He could hear the sounds of people bustling through the halls and wards, mixing with the chatter of voices and the smells of breakfast drifting up from the kitchens downstairs.

  Augustus hung up his greatcoat and hat in the coat closet and then headed for the library, to covertly check how many of the physicians had already arrived.

  If Doctor Cooke were already in the hospital, this entire plan would be much harder to pull off. Cooke very rarely came in before midmorning, though, so Augustus hoped he would have a little time at least to get Moss out of the hospital. On the other hand, he probably should not be late doing his own rounds, or it might attract attention.

  He passed several surgeons in the halls and caught a glimpse of Doctor Hobbes talking to a nurse in the doorway that led to the first of the women’s wards.

  Walker came out of the library as Augustus approached. He waved him over.

  “Has Doctor Cooke come in yet?”

  “Not that I’m aware.” Walker frowned slightly. “He’s generally not in this early. Plus, with the weather being so bad the last few days, we shouldn’t see him until almost noon, I’d say.”

  Augustus nodded and continued on into the library. With the door closed behind him, he paced to the fireplace and took a fortifying breath.

  It needed to be now. He wasn’t going to get a better chance.

  Easing open the door, he checked to make sure no one was in sight and then headed for the stairs that led to the lying-in rooms. He retrieved his key ring from his coat so he’d have it in his hand by the time he got to the door. There, he paused for a moment and listened just to make sure one of the other physicians wasn’t already with Moss. It was quiet inside.

  He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  Moss was standing by the window this time, still looking out. One hand was clenched into a fist at his side, the other arm was twisted protectively around his waist.

  He turned as Augustus shut the door behind him.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m going to get you out.”

  Moss stepped forward immediately. “Tell me what to do.”

  “We’ll need to go downstairs, so if we’re seen, or someone questions us, act like you’re a nurse, unless whoever it is already knows who you are. Once we get out into the garden, I have clothes for you to change into. And once we’re off the hospital grounds, someone I know will meet you, an
d take you somewhere safe. Come on. We’re leaving now.”

  Moss nodded and followed Augustus out of the room and into the hall.

  Augustus’ heart was hammering in his chest, and his palms were sweating as they descended the stairs. It felt like prebattle jitters, the fear mixed with anticipation that would be swept away by the need to react and survive once the fighting started.

  They passed some servants in the hall, all of whom nodded respectfully to him and ignored Moss. Augustus sent up a silent prayer that they would not run into any nurses or, God forbid, the matron of the house. Nurses came and went regularly enough that the servants or even physicians and surgeons might not know all of them by sight, but the nursing staff certainly knew each other.

  “Hill.”

  Augustus had a moment of blind panic before it receded behind the accelerating rush of sensation felt at the beginning of a fight.

  He turned smoothly to face the man who’d called his name. “Doctor Hobbes. What can I do for you?”

  The physician in question stood in an open doorway, his massive shoulders filling it. His coat was off, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

  “We should talk about that patient you have. The one with the lump on her throat you were interested in having me operate on.”

  “Yes.” Augustus took several steps towards Hobbes, Moss trailing discreetly behind him. “I do want to speak with you about that case, but I have an errand I need to finish, and rounds.” He reached for his pocket watch. “I’ll find you, say, at ten, and we’ll discuss it.”

  “I’ll probably be in surgery by then. Wait until eleven, and then we can talk.”

  “All right.” Augustus nodded to him, tucked his watch away, and went back down the hall.

  When they’d turned a corner, he heard Moss let out a breath in a relieved sigh.

  The tension in Augustus’ shoulders didn’t loosen, though. They still had too far to go and too many people they could run into. How many of the physicians and surgeons knew what Moss looked like? Hobbes obviously hadn’t, but Augustus doubted he’d been the only one to go see Cooke’s newest patient for himself.