When she had placed the last stitch she stopped to consider her work. Even Dr. Todd might be satisfied with her, for once. She went to her own bag and came back with a corked bottle.
Dr. Savard cleared his throat. “And what do you intend to do with that?”
She met his gaze. “I intend to wash your wound out with it. What did you think?”
His gaze skittered away and then back again, and to Hannah’s great surprise, he flushed a mottled red. “You’re always pulling some root or leaf or some strange Musselman cure out of that bag of yours.”
For once she let herself smile. “I’m sorry to disappoint you but it’s nothing so exotic or effective as Dragon’s Blood. If I had any, I would use it.”
He straightened. “I’m a man of science, Miss Bonner. I studied in Edinburgh, which is widely regarded as the best school of medicine in the world. Your magical remedies are of no interest to me. Now what is in that bottle?”
She didn’t try to hide her smile as she took out the cork and held it under his nose. “Nothing very shocking, just a distillation of winterbloom and slippery elm to keep the wound from getting inflamed.”
Dr. Savard frowned at her, his nose twitching. “That will sting like the very devil. I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
Hannah considered the neat line of stitches in his palm, and she thought of the Hakim. How would he convince a reluctant patient, one who happened to call himself a doctor? Appeal to his better nature, he would say. On the other hand Curiosity would laugh aloud at such childishness and shame him into it; neither approach seemed the right one for Dr. Savard.
She said, “Well then, let’s experiment.”
His combative expression gave way to distrust. “With my hand?”
“Listen, please. You say that you are a man of science. Let me wash half the wound, from here to here.” She traced a line from the middle of his palm to the base of his palm, and his fingers twitched.
“If both halves of the wound heal at the same pace and in the same way, I will concede that you are right and there was no need to bother. And of course as a man of science, you will concede the opposite, if it turns out that it does help in the healing process.”
He scowled at her. “You are very clever, Miss Bonner. There is no way for me to refuse your suggestion without appearing small-minded and stubborn.”
She drew her brows together and said nothing.
“Very clever indeed,” he fumed. “I will enter into this little experiment of yours. On one very small condition.”
Hannah saw, too late, that she had underestimated him and put herself in a corner. She could walk away, of course, but then she looked at his palm again. She had seen wounds like this go bad very quickly.
“You want to know why I was in the records office.”
“Of course.”
“I will meet your condition, if you will promise me not to tell anyone else about this. Anyone at all. No matter what you think of the merits of my … undertaking. Or of my reasoning.”
Dr. Savard did not often grin, and it made Hannah uncomfortable to see him do it now. “You’ve piqued my interest,” he said. “Very well, go ahead with your experiment. I agree to your terms.”
Hannah kept her own expression neutral as she took his hand and tipped the bottle over his lower palm. He jerked hard at the first touch of the liquid and let out a hiss between his teeth.
After a long moment he said, “Now that you’ve had your fun—”
Hannah took Manny’s note from her work-apron pocket and handed it to him. While he read, she put away the bottle in her workbag and tidied the examination table, trying not to look at his expression as he turned the paper over and read the other side.
When he raised his head she said, “I’m trying to find some record of what happened to the child. As a favor to her father.”
“Who is—”
“A friend of mine.”
There was nothing to read from his face, neither surprise nor censure nor approval. His eyes were very dark and Hannah found she could not hold his gaze.
Dr. Savard was silent while she wrapped his injured hand in a piece of linen and tied the bandage neatly. When she looked up he was staring at her with a look that bordered on anger.
“Does this have anything to do with the way you disappear for an hour now and then in the late afternoon, in the direction of the kitchens?”
Hannah blinked at him. “I must go now. They will be waiting for me on Whitehall Street.”
He said, “I’ll see you home,” and held up his newly bandaged hand to stop her protest. “I have no intention of letting you walk the length of Manhattan unaccompanied, Miss Bonner. Save yourself the argument.”
“If you would simply have the desk clerk call a hackney carriage for me—”
“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that I was carrying a specimen jar here at this hour of the evening?”
Hannah pulled up in surprise. “I hadn’t thought about it. I suppose it is odd.”
“A mob broke into the autopsy room at the hospital this evening to claim the cadaver.”
“But I thought the body had been found on the docks?”
Dr. Savard lifted a shoulder. “It seems that the men who delivered her to the dissection room stretched the truth a bit to get their pay.”
“Grave robbers.”
“These gentlemen prefer the term ‘resurrectionists.’ The lady’s husband took issue, of course, and the mob got ugly, to say the least. They decided that while they were there they would destroy everything they could get their hands on.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Some bumps and bruises. William Ehrlich got himself a black eye, but the worst of it is we’ll have to take autopsies somewhere else for a good while. I hoped to save at least one laboratory specimen, but you see I was not very successful.”
“So you rescued the—” She paused, thinking of the mess on the hallway floor, glass and blood and chunks of something unidentifiable. “What was it?”
“A cirrhotic liver,” said Dr. Savard. One corner of his mouth turned up. “It was the closest thing to me, in more ways than one.” He cleared his throat and looked at his palm critically. “So you must understand that given the mood on the streets, I cannot let you leave here unaccompanied.”
After a long moment Hannah said, “It will be just a moment while I change out of my apron.”
As it turned out the only carriages they saw were already engaged. After a few minutes in which the doctor paced up and down the Broad Way waving his arms unproductively, he fetched a whale-oil lantern from the Almshouse and they began the walk to Whitehall Street by unspoken agreement.
Hannah carried her own bag, as Dr. Savard had one hand that he could not use and needed the other for the lantern on its short pole. It creaked agreeably with each step, sending an oval of light swinging back and forth between them. The shapes of the buildings and trees were easily made out against the night sky. Coffeehouses and shops were silent, but the tavern doorways were lit by darkly smoking torches or lamps. Now and then they passed a private watchman who patrolled the street with a lantern of his own. There was no sign of ruffians, but Hannah did not point that out, mostly because she didn’t want to add to the noise.
Coaches and cabs pulled by iron-shod horses moved briskly along cobbled streets; laughter and voices raised in argument drifted from everywhere and nowhere; dogs barked; shop signs creaked with every gust of wind.
“I don’t know how people stand the constant racket of the city.” She said this out loud, to her own surprise and to the doctor’s.
“Really?” He raised his head to listen. And then: “I don’t suppose the world is silent at night even on your mountain, is it?”
“No,” said Hannah. “There is sound enough. But not this constant buzzing.”
He made a noncommittal sound. “You would become accustomed to it with time.”
“No,” said Hannah. “I would not.” To change the subject
she said, “You must be in some considerable pain.”
Dr. Savard made a sound deep in his throat.
“Was that a denial?”
He sent her an irritated look. “Of course I am in pain. But it will pass. Most things do.”
“Willow-bark tea would be some relief.”
“Watch your step here.”
They skirted a pile of refuse that had been cast out into the road, the light catching the eyes of a rat that had settled itself in a nest of rags.
As they passed the darkened doorway of a milliner’s shop two figures moved deeper into the shadows, followed by a hoarse giggling.
“Oooh, look, Susie. Dr. Savard come out this evening for a stroll. How very good to see you, Doctor.”
“Miss Susan, Miss Mariah. Good evening to you both.” He raised his voice without slowing. To Hannah he said, “Ladies of the night, as Dr. Simon refers to them so shyly. Prostitutes, in other words.” His tone was matter-of-fact and unapologetic.
Hannah looked over her shoulder, but could make out nothing of the women.
“Dr. Savard’s out walking with a lady, Mariah. He’s got no time for us.” There was a hiccup of laughter.
“I recognize that voice,” said Hannah, slowing. “I treated her just yesterday for—” She paused.
“Blennorhagic discharge?”
“Yes.”
“Many of them have it, it’s why they come to us.”
“But they are contagious.”
“Yes.”
“And …”
“Professionally active, yes. The phrase you’re looking for, Miss Bonner, is caveat emptor.”
“No,” Hannah said, irritated finally by his tone. “I wasn’t thinking about the buyer at all. I was thinking how painful it must be for her.”
He shrugged so that the lantern swayed. “Hunger is a harsh mistress.”
Hannah said, “You are very cold on this subject, Doctor.”
In the light of the lantern his expression was sober. “I prefer the term detached. It is a necessity when practicing medicine among the poor. I’m afraid that’s a lesson you haven’t learned yet.”
“It is one I hope I never learn.”
“You are very young.”
“And you are stating the obvious. What does my youth have to do with it?”
He looked away into the dark, as if he might find the right answer there. “I was like you, once. I found that optimism is a liability in the practice of medicine, especially here.”
Hannah said, “How kind of you to share your superior knowledge and understanding of the world.” And she started off again at a much brisker pace, to the sound of his soft laughter and a new sound, a distant shouting undercut by the high piercing of a constable’s whistle.
She stopped and turned back toward Dr. Savard, who had also turned in the direction of the noise. More whistles now, and the shouting more distinct.
“Is Dr. Simon safe?” Hannah was embarrassed to realize that she should have asked this question earlier.
“I expect he’s safe enough by now. We had best press on.”
A few minutes later he said, “So I take it you had no luck in your search in the records office?”
Beneath the brim of his hat Hannah could make out nothing of his expression. “No, I did not.”
She lifted her face to the night breeze, glad of its cool touch.
“You are planning to leave the city very soon, as I understand it.”
Hannah said, “We will leave before the end of the week, yes. Mrs. Todd is no better and her husband wants her to come home.”
“Mrs. Todd is Dr. Ehrlich’s patient, I believe. He has mentioned her now and then.”
It was not really a question, but Hannah made a sound of agreement. She could not think of anything to say about Dr. Savard’s colleague from Philadelphia that might not give offense, but to her surprise she did not need to.
“The man whines and buzzes like a mosquito,” said Dr. Savard in a conversational tone. “If only he were half as intelligent.”
She hiccupped a laugh, pressing a hand to her mouth. The doctor looked at her impatiently. “He is a disaster as a physician and you know it.”
After a moment Hannah said, “Mrs. Todd is much worse now than she was.”
“How very diplomatic of you. You could call him a pretentious charlatan and have done with it.”
“I might,” Hannah said. “If I weren’t so worried about Kitty.”
“Give me her history, then,” said Dr. Savard. “We might as well talk of that as anything else.”
Hannah slowed. “Do you mean it? I have been wanting to discuss her case with someone, but Dr. Simon seemed reluctant.”
“Then you should have asked,” he said brusquely. “Get on with it, you’ve got fifteen minutes.”
He let her talk, asking questions now and then for clarification. Hannah told him what she knew and what she only suspected. The simple process of reciting Kitty’s history was enough to strip away the last of her optimism.
“I fear she will not live out the summer,” she ended.
They had come to the beginning of the park at Bowling Green. The gardeners had been at work; the smell of cut grass was heavy in the air. The park was quiet but all around it the houses pulsed with light and movement like a halo. Down the street a line of carriages waited in front of the Delafields’, where a party was under way. Amanda and Will would be there, and Kitty with them, if she was strong enough today.
“Miss Bonner.”
“Yes?” Hannah was startled out of her thoughts.
“Let me ask you this. You have seen how much work there is to do among the poor of this city. You are already an excellent medical practitioner. Will you not consider staying on to see to the needs of those who really need you?”
Hannah stepped back from him, awash in surprise and irritation and a strange satisfaction. He was looking at her with such intensity that she had to turn her head.
“You have nothing to say?”
She pressed a hand to her throat, felt the thundering of her pulse. “I’m thankful for your good opinion.”
He waved this away with his bandaged hand. “No, no. I am not looking for thanks. I am offering you an opportunity to do what you were born to do. The poor of this city need you. Will you stay for them?”
The thought of living and working in this city felt so wrong to Hannah, so far from the way her world was meant to be, that she could hardly think of how to answer him politely, or even give any real credit to the compliment he had paid by suggesting such a thing.
You might as well ask me to fly, she thought of saying. Instead she said, “My people need me too, Dr. Savard. If I stay here I will be turning my back on them.”
He shook his head impatiently, as if she were a dull student who refused to take his meaning. “Are you speaking of the people of Paradise, or of your people? Of the Mohawk?”
“Some of my people are in Paradise, and some are not. Does it matter where they are, or what they call themselves?”
“Yes.” He looked away over the park, the muscles in his jaw knotting. “It does matter. A village of a hundred people hardly needs two doctors. There is more important work to be done. On the other hand, if you are speaking of going to live among the Mohawk—”
“Dr. Savard,” Hannah interrupted. “Your idea of what is important and mine are worlds apart.”
Just as suddenly as the intensity had come into his expression it fell away, replaced by the man she had worked with for the past weeks: detached and cool and unknowable. A teacher, and a good one; never a friend.
He inclined his head. “Of course. I beg your pardon, Miss Bonner.”
The silence that fell between them was heavier now, fraught with things that Hannah could hardly name. She said, “The house is at the other end of the park. Thank you for seeing me this far.”
“I’m dismissed, then.” His old half-smile was back, and she was relieved to see it.
“If you insist,” Hannah answered in the same tone. “You will remember the willow-bark tea for the pain?”
“How could I forget it?” He held up his injured hand in a salute. “Good evening, then, Miss Bonner.”
She had walked on a few steps before she stopped and turned back. “You never gave me your opinion on Mrs. Todd’s case.”
“You never asked for it.”
“That has never stopped you before, Doctor.”
She could see only part of his face, but she knew that he was smiling by his tone. “Ah, but she’s your patient, isn’t she?”
Hannah hesitated. “I’m asking for a consultation, then.”
He turned his face up to the trees as if they had some wisdom to share. Of the stars he asked the question she should have anticipated. “Ubi est morbus?”
“The uterus,” said Hannah. “The source of her disease is some weakness or unhealed rupture of the uterus following the delivery of a dead child. But how to heal it?”
He was looking at her with his usual irritation and urgency. “Miss Bonner, I ask you again: ubi est morbus?”
“The source of her disease is not in her uterus?” Hannah asked, astounded and unsettled and provoked. “But where, then?”
“The source of her disease may not be in her uterus alone,” said Dr. Savard. “You have been blinded by the obvious. What Mrs. Todd requires is something or someone to worry about besides herself, Miss Bonner. Distract her mind and you will have a chance of healing her body.”
“You believe the hemorrhaging to be hysterical in origin?”
He shook his head sharply. “Your patient is not some lady with vapors complaining of chills and aches. The physical damage is real enough—”
“But the healing process begins elsewhere,” finished Hannah for him.
He smiled at her, and touched his hat with his bandaged hand. “You begin to think like an anatomist, Miss Bonner.” It was the highest compliment he had to pay, and with it he turned and left her.
Chapter 28
Mrs. Burroway was the senior matron in charge of the nursery, dry as old bread and hard to rattle. Presented with Hannah’s proposal, she refused to be surprised or even to question her motivations. She simply went to the desk in the corner and wrote out a few sentences. Hannah signed the paper and fished a few coins from her apron pocket.