Chapter Three
“A new patient?”
Augusta sat across from one Mr. Bennet Pinkton in a small, dark cafe far from London’s busy streets, with cigar smoke so thick that one could hardly see the person sitting next to them.
It was the perfect place to not be seen at all, in fact, which was why it was her and Pinkton’s favorite meeting spot.
The man, who was in his mid-thirties but had the kind eyes of an elderly gentleman, had only become known to her two years prior, when she had practically accosted him at the University of London after a speech he gave regarding melancholia and sloth.
He’d been the first real-life alienist that she had met, aside from the ones her parents had hired to fix her, and she had refused to let the opportunity go to waste.
Currently, he looked at her with an amused expression as he sipped his coffee.
“Yes. It appears our dry spell is over. Thank God for affliction, lest we grow bored.”
Augusta ignored his cynicism, for her own elation had so run ahead of her senses that she was unable to allow for it. “And you say this is for Lady Wallingford?”
“Yes. Evidently she heard of our successful work with Lord Barrington. Her husband stated that she has suffered from melancholia for most of her life, and has never received treatment at any other time.”
“That is so strange,” Augusta said, thinking of the dinner she had attended at the Wallingford estate only last evening. “I saw her recently and she seemed so…composed. Like nothing was wrong at all.”
“Yes, Lord Wallingford did mention that she is quite good at hiding her symptoms. I have had patients like that in the past. This will be good training for you, as well. You’ll need to be able to assess the subtler hints of the disorder.”
That made Augusta sit up just a bit straighter.
It had been roughly a year since Dr. Pinkton had approached her with a proposition; to attend visits with him for members of the ton who were afraid to seek treatment for their nervous afflictions, essentially acting as his apprentice and protege.
Since then, they had worked with five separate patients under the guise of social visits from Augusta.
With each of them, Augusta had learned more and more about the cases that, once upon a time, she had only been allowed to read about in textbooks.
There had always been whisperings of members of society with these problems, but no one wanted to come forth and name themselves.
Some of them, the ladies especially, were so obsessed with their secret that they did not even want the knowledge of a doctor having visited getting out, for fear of what else might leak.
Knowing that Augusta would also have to keep her identity a secret was enough to convince them that they would not be made the fool if they admitted her and the doctor.
It was an agreed-upon contract of mutual destruction, which ensured that no one spoke a word of it.
It made sense to Augusta, in the perverse way that things in the ton made sense.
After all, if one needed to stay hidden, then the best possible solution was to find others who also had to remain in the shadows.
Therefore, the process was easy: the patient reached out to Dr. Pinkton in their time of need, Dr. Pinkton reached out to Augusta, and everyone had great cause to say absolutely nothing on the matter.
“And they know of my presence alongside you?”
Dr. Pinkton looked down at his coffee when he said, “Yes. Lord Wallingford was surprised by your involvement, but he stated that his wife has always liked you. Besides, they trust my judgment in bringing my apprentice.”
This much Augusta believed. Dr. Pinkton was in great demand across the city - beyond teaching and working in various asylums, he also assisted Scotland Yard at times regarding the minds of those who committed grave crimes. Whatever he said carried great weight and respect alongside it.
She wondered what that felt like.
Augusta set her coffee down. “I…want to thank you, Dr. Pinkton. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I know that I am a nobody in your world. I have no degree, no job prospects. I truly appreciate you giving me all that you have.”
Dr. Pinkton gave a casual shrug. “It is not so much as you presume. You are as smart as any of the gents I teach. Perhaps more so, if I am honest. I do not want easy apprentices, I want the best ones. And you, Miss Browning, are the best.”
She refused to let him get away with such modesty. “Oh, but it is everything to me. This past year has been more than I ever could have hoped when I spent my nights studying Thomas Brown.”
Dr. Pinkton looked away, glancing about the smoky room, as though her appreciation made him physically uncomfortable. “Well, do not be too grateful, for I am about to ask for a grand favor from you in exchange.”
She leaned in, her ears perked up at his words. “Anything. Absolutely anything.”
“There is a rally being held by the Society in November. It will be a rather large demonstration put on to push Parliament for changes in law. Monumental changes. There will be a main stage set up, and the ladies would like speakers scheduled to get the message out. And you are…well, you are the sister of an earl.”
Augusta’s elation faded, her wide eyes narrowing. “The Society of Women in Medicine? Dr. Pinkton, I understand that you work closely with those ladies, but you do know how I feel about their methods.”
“I am aware of your feelings about the group, but I would ask you to reconsider that stance for this event.”
“They are rabble-rousers of the worst kind-”
“They are activists, Miss Browning. If they did not rouse rabbles, they would not be effective.”
“They have burnt buildings. They have broken windows. They have made people live in fear.”
Dr. Pinkton waved her away. “A few bad actors in the group. Of course, that’s to be expected.
But it does not change the fact that the core mission is meaningful.
And do you know what would lend great credibility to it?
A woman of society speaking up for them.
Perhaps, with that kind of respectability, there would no longer be a need to rabble rouse. ”
Augusta sighed. She had said only moments ago that she would do anything for Dr. Pinkton. Now, she had to bite her tongue from spitting out a cold rejection of his proposal. After all, he had done great things for her, and he held a lot of sway in her own future.
Then again, so did Reginald, and he would absolutely balk at her speaking at such an event for a group like that. He knew nothing of her studies, or her life, or her passions. To display them to the world before telling him of it would be the greatest cruelty.
But Dr. Pinkton was not done with her. “I am certain that I do not need to remind you that, without some changes, you will never work as an alienist. The time you have spent studying, and mingling at my events, and working with me will have been wasted. If I were you, that thought would prompt me to burn something down, potentially.”
Every muscle in Augusta’s jaw tightened painfully.
She knew. Indeed, it was all she could do to forget that, technically, this was all a silly little hobby for her.
Even to be granted the hours spent with Dr. Pinkton making house calls was more than she could have hoped for.
To imagine anything beyond it was ridiculous, if not complete folly.
“I cannot give you confirmation right now,” she said slowly. “But I assure you that I will take it into the utmost consideration. When will you need a firm answer?”
“Miss Browning, you are so important to the Society’s future that I daresay you could stroll in at the final moment and ask to go onstage, and they would kiss your hand for doing so.”
“I see. Are they in such dire straits, then?”
“Not in the least. You simply underestimate your power.”
Power. Augusta tried not to bristle against the word. It was so masculine, so uncouth, so unlike any of the things she actually wanted to possess.
“Nevertheless, I shall try not to dally in my response. As soon as my mind is made up, you will be the first to know.” Looking down at her pocketwatch, she stood.
“Thank you again, Dr. Pinkton. I’ll be on my way.
My brother shall be expecting me soon, and he would be mortified if he knew where I was.
Still, I cannot show you enough gratitude for what you have done. ”
“It’s been a pleasure, Miss Browning.”
She gave him a knowing smile. “We are good enough friends now, Pinkton, there is no need to lie to me.”
*****
The Wallingford ball was the penultimate event of the London season, and its attendance marked such an occasion. Augusta could hardly make her way to the lemonade table without jostling, an activity which she most despised. Anything that required forcefulness was most unladylike.
As such, once she had procured her lemonade, she was content to stand along the wall with her dear friend, Ginny Greene.
“I have never felt more like a zoo animal than I do in a ballroom,” Ginny said, though there was little annoyance in her tone. Ginny rarely displayed any emotion that was not tranquility. It was one of the many reasons why Augusta loved her company.
“That is ridiculous. Zoo animals at least get proper care and feeding.”
Ginny snorted, then covered her mouth in mortification as she looked around to see if anyone had heard. “You are the only person I know who can say such funny things with such a straight face, Auggie.”
Augusta shrugged. “I never mean to be funny, you know that. I simply say things and sometimes you laugh at me.”
“Oh dear, I am never laughing at you. At least, not in a mean way. I only think that sometimes you are dreadfully funny, and it is a shame that no one else is aware but me.” A smile lit up her face, her bright green eyes suddenly playful.
“But then, perhaps that means I am quite privileged, for it is like a secret.”