Six
Later, Aurora would marvel at her ability to maintain her composure that night. As they dismounted a fiacre in front of Apollo’s building, she could barely keep herself from losing the contents of her stomach.
This had been much too close. They had to find more secure locations. They could not be risking having clients’ identities exposed or being arrested themselves. But the funds were running low and renting multiple locations was costly. Tomorrow she’d have to meet with Virginia and discuss a way forward. Despite her complaints, the truth was that Apollo’s presence had at least allowed for the night not to be a total waste.
Not that she wasn’t concerned about the tall Colombian-Scottish headache she’d acquired during the course of the evening. The situation with the Parisian police had been unpleasant, but she knew that could be solved—at least temporarily—with crossing the right palms with a few well-placed coins and being more discreet until the authorities lost interest. Keeping Apollo from sticking his incredibly large foot in her affairs would be far more challenging. She had not liked the look of him when he’d told her they’d have a conversation about her “safety.” Heavy-handed, overbearing pendejo. But he had been kind to her patient.
She’d assumed he’d be cross and surly when she’d asked to use his apartment, but instead he’d taken pains to put the woman at ease. The Duke of Annan had taken the entire thing in stride, as if he regularly rode around with strange women in the middle of the night. Then again, the cabrón probably did. That damned charm at least could be good for something, she thought ruefully as he made conversation with Dona Maria. Despite herself, a flare of gratitude ignited in her chest at Apollo’s efforts.
“Here we are, mesdames.” Apollo pointed to the sofa as soon as they walked into the small apartment. “The best seat in the house.” The gesture was clearly for the patient, but Aurora’s own face heated when a memory came to her of what he’d done to her on that very piece of furniture. It was unsettling to be back here for the first time after that night. She’d told herself she’d never set foot in the place again, and she likely wouldn’t have. But here she was, maybe one day she’d walk in at a decent hour.
“Make yourself comfortable while I get things ready,” she told Maria, who seemed to be hesitating by the door.
“It’s better if I don’t, I don’t want to ruin it,” she whispered, breaking Aurora’s heart. She extended her hand to the slight woman and nudged her to the sofa.
“Our host won’t mind,” she told her.
“I’m honored to have you in my apartment,” he confirmed amiably as he reached the bedchamber’s door. “I’ll make sure everything is in order there.” He was probably making sure there weren’t any ladies’ garments tossed everywhere. Not that she cared about his libertine inclinations. “It’s been a few months since I’ve been here.” She would not muse or specu late what that meant, because as she’d told him various times that evening, they were not each other’s business.
While he was in the bedchamber, she focused on putting her patient at ease. The poor woman was sitting on the very edge of the sofa, as if she was attempting to touch as little as possible of the furnishings as she could. Aurora was quietly asking after symptoms when the Duke of Annan reappeared in the room.
“It’s ready,” he informed them with a radiant smile. Even now, with a patient in the room, she felt the pull toward him. The faster this was done, the faster she could get away from the promise in Apollo’s dark eyes. “Doctora, is there anything you need before you begin?” He was being so damned kind, it was driving her mad. She’d intended to hold on to her irritation for the way he’d commandeered her evening, but how could she when he was taking pains to make this easier for her and her client?
“I need to boil my instruments,” she finally said, once she’d gotten herself in hand. “I also need some hot water for a tincture to relax her.” They both looked at the small, veiled figure sitting on the sofa. She was yet to see the woman’s face but knew she was only eighteen and already the mother of two girls. Which was probably the reason her husband insisted on getting her with child a third time despite her condition. This poor girl was suffering in silence from a completely preventable and highly treatable injury. She knew Apollo could not understand why she took the risks she did, but perhaps this would make things clearer. Not that she cared one way or the other about the Duke of Annan’s approval.
“I can help boil the instruments and with the water for the tincture,” he offered, bringing her out of her thoughts. She gave him the instructions, which he listened to closely without a single acidic remark or acerbic smile. While she worked, she could hear him talking quietly to the patient. When she came out of the bedroom a quarter of an hour later, she found him right outside the threshold with her instruments in hand.
“Thank you,” she said, confused by the sudden and overwhelming urge to kiss him on the mouth.
“She’s drinking the tea,” he told her soberly, and she almost smiled at his ardor. She’d prepared the laudanum-laced concoction to help the patient relax for the examination, but he’d insisted on mixing it with some tea and sugar to make it more palatable. He was a competent attendant, quick and thorough.
“Pass me that canister, please,” she instructed, a little more sharply than she intended. But it was late, and it had been an exceedingly trying evening.
“What is this?” he asked, and once again she had to wonder if he was putting her on. Why did he care about any of this?
She smothered a sigh as she took it from his hand and carefully placed it on the table.
“It’s an anesthetic,” she explained. “It’s Dr. Bengue’s ethyl chloride dispenser.” She pointed to the place on the device where the inventor’s name was engraved.
“Not coca, then?” he asked, and she shook her head. “I know of it because it’s been used in Colombia for centuries,” he explained.
“Cocaine is a popular anesthetic, but it can be addictive.” He didn’t seem surprised by her answer.
“So many of our practices become profane in the hands of the West,” he said with a somber tone that brought her up short. “Us included.” It was a sobering thought, and an astute one. One she would have been astonished to hear out of Apollo’s mouth, but this evening was forcing her to see the man in a different light.
“I won’t bore you with a long explanation, but this works much more safely and—” He was so close now, the heat of his large body eliciting very unwelcome reactions in hers. It damned near robbed her of speech.
“I find you a great many things, Fiera,” he said in a husky whisper. “But boring is not one of them.” That was not anything that she could take on. She was lucky not to drop the thing on the ground.
“Yes, well.” She cleared her throat. “I need to go see my patient,” she said, before she escaped the bedchamber. She didn’t think she imagined the whispered “Fiera” that trailed behind her.
Aurora found Dona Maria slowly sipping her tea and wondered what the woman would say if she knew the man serving her all night was a lavishly wealthy duke. She’d think it was utterly ridiculous, just as Aurora did. But she could not deny the man made for a very handsome attendant and a dashing duke. She thought of their conversation about his duties, how he was still finding his way. It had surprised her to hear his genuine concerns for those he was responsible for.
But tonight she’d seen a man who was willing to lend a helping hand, even when the circumstances were risky. A man who was kind to a woman in need, and a much better partner in crime than she’d ever imagined.
“If you would remove your overskirt,” she instructed her patient a few minutes later, once they were behind closed doors in Apollo’s bedchamber. When she hesitated, Aurora attempted one of her reassuring smiles and tried again. “It’ll make it easier for me to see the fissure.” Her patient flinched at the word, and once again she felt that mix of rage and helplessness for the way women were forced to live. “I can leave the room and give you some privacy if you prefer,” she offered.
“It’s all right,” Maria said from behind her veil, and moved to unbutton her skirt. “I’m just a bit nervous. Tonight has been much more adventurous than I’m used to.” She sounded like perhaps the excitement was not altogether unwelcome. Her husband probably kept her locked in the house. So many women with her injury lived in confinement.
Maria was suffering from a fistula caused by frequent and difficult births starting when she was fifteen years old. Aurora strived to distance her own past from her patients’ stories. It did her no good to conflate her own emotions with the troubles of the women she cared for. Some days this was easier than others.
“Nothing about your visit will leave this apartment,” she promised, and to her amazement, she really trusted that Apollo would respect this woman’s privacy. “You can leave your veil on if it’s more comfortable for you,” Aurora told her. She received a quick nod in answer. While the woman undid the fastenings of her skirt, Aurora took in her appearance.
Despite the odor, she was wearing a fine dress of lovely pale blue silk. The embroidery on the bodice was done with expensive silver thread. This was a woman of means, and yet in her letter to the clinic she’d indicated her inability to pay for her visit because she could not spend any money that could not be explained to her husband.
“How is the pain, Dona Maria?” she asked as the woman lifted her veil to reveal a face that was heartbreakingly young. Her brown complexion was lovely and smooth, but her eyes betrayed a life filled with pain.
“It’s bearable.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, her back very straight and her small hands clutched on her lap. Her gaze focused on something behind Aurora. “It’s the smell I can’t stand.” Living with a fistula was a miserable existence.
“Is this from your most recent pregnancy?” Maria nodded. Aurora could see her throat moving as if she was holding back a sob.
“Yes.” A small whimper escaped her anyway. Aurora fished out one of the many starched handkerchiefs she stuffed her pockets with and passed it to her. Perched on the edge of the bed, she was so small, her feet barely touched the floor. At eighteen, she was just out of childhood and yet this woman had endured labor two times in the last three years.
Minutes passed with the patient holding the cloth over her nose and mouth and sobbing quietly. Aurora was not patient by nature, and she had very little grace when it came to tears. But in these moments, she considered it her duty and her honor to be the one to at the very least bore witness to her patient’s pain and resilience. If she was capable, then she healed the wounds, if not to their spirit, certainly to their bodies.
“It was a stillbirth,” Maria finally said.
“It’s been a year?” Another slight nod.
“He says I’ve had enough time to recover.” She lifted her haunted gaze to Aurora finally, and what she saw there was stark resignation. “We have twin girls,” she explained with a lift of her shoulder. “But he wants an heir.”
And likely at whatever physical cost it came to for her.
“Surely the doctor that attended you informed your husband that a pregnancy is not advisable without addressing the fistula,” Aurora stated with as much restraint as she could. She knew better than to assume the same male doctor who continued to deliver children for a man who clearly did not care about his wife’s welfare would take any kind of stand against this inhumanity.
“My husband does not think it’s necessary,” she whispered, clearly embarrassed for her situation. “The doctor did not disagree.”
There were many things she could’ve said in that moment, but she held her tongue. The so-called doctor was likely a pupil of Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, who espoused the brilliant theory that men’s seed carried forth a fully formed human and women were nothing but an interchangeable vessel.
Aurora’s blood boiled for her, but she knew that venting her frustration would possibly mortify her patient further.
“Let’s take a look, then, and we’ll discuss some options.”
The patient backed up on the bed, distress and shame flushing her lovely bronze skin with an angry red. “The smell’s worse the closer you get.” Her breath caught as she struggled for composure.
“Don’t worry about me,” Aurora told her softly as she assisted her in lying down. “I promise it does not bother me.”
A single tear slid down the woman’s rounded cheek as she laid her head on Apollo’s pillow.
This would’ve been me , Aurora thought. Had she not done what she’d done, she would have been another Maria. Bearing children for an indolent man until her body gave out. It had come at a high price, but she’d gained a life only she determined and that she could never regret.
Aurora forced air into her lungs and made her mind clear of any thoughts that were not the woman who she was tasked with caring for. There was no room here for anything other than the work at hand.
“You have taken good care of the wound,” she said, smiling up at the patient.
“I saw a midwife,” she said, her cheeks flushing again, but she looked at Aurora with something almost like defiance in her eyes, and she thought maybe there was a little ember of rebellion left in Maria. “She’s the aunt of one of my maids. She came on one of the nights my husband was…” She trailed off, then shrugged. “Given my situation, he has to see to his masculine requirements from someone who is not so repulsive.” The way she uttered the last word told Aurora that the young woman was merely echoing what had been said to her. “She gave me some salve and taught me how to keep it clean. She was who advised I come to you.”
Their clinic worked closely with a network of midwives. She was always grateful for the women who, despite the constant disrespect from the medical establishment, continued to provide vital care for those who needed it.
“It was good of you to come,” she reassured as she cleaned the wound. “Your fistula can be repaired with a minor procedure.”
“Truly?” The relief on her face made tonight’s ordeal and whatever fallout Apollo would dole out worth it.
“We’d need at least three hours,” Aurora told her. “Can you do it now?”
Maria shook her head, regretfully. “I must be home before dawn, but my husband will have a trip to London soon.” Already Maria seemed a bit more self-assured. It was incredible what the ability to decide for herself what happened to her own body did for a woman.
Aurora nodded, already running through the catalogue of locations available that could work for the procedure. “Send me a note and we will do it then.” She made quick work of discussing the details of the surgery, then offered the patient some options in pregnancy prevention until then.
“I can’t pay.” The shame in her voice almost broke Aurora’s determination not to go on a rampage. “He keeps a very close eye on my expenses.”
Aurora waved Maria’s concern away even as she thought of the funds her brothers had suspended, of the police and the bribes it would take to make them stop snooping, of the desperate need for secure locations. Those concerns were hers, not her patient’s.
“Don’t worry about that,” she told Maria lowering the woman’s skirt after she finished the examination. “Now, can you go to an apothecary to procure what you need, or do you prefer I give it to you?”
Maria wrung her hands again.
“If you have it here, that would be best.” The woman was practically a prisoner in her home. Aurora almost asked her if she’d thought of leaving. But even the mention of divorce would probably send her running and she needed that procedure.
One thing she’d learned from her work was that sometimes all one could do was fix the most immediate problem and hope the person, restored, could do the rest. So she patted her patient’s knee, forced herself to smile and pointed to her trusty Gladstone.
“Let me get it ready while you get yourself sorted,” Aurora told her with a smile, before reaching for the remedies she kept on hand.
She might not ever be enough anywhere else in her life. She didn’t quite measure up as a daughter, could be a distant and aloof sister, was even an impatient, and at times harsh, friend, but she was a good healer. With her tools in hand, she knew exactly where she belonged and that was more than enough to build a life on.