Chapter Nineteen
Dr. Robert Owens put Edmund in mind of a sailor moreso than a doctor. He had a shaggy appearance and a stubbled beard of salt and pepper. He wore a baggy brown suit, while his assistant, Mr. Evan Thomas, stood by in his shirtsleeves, braces, and neatly cut blue trousers. Edmund had expected to see men in more formal attire, but these men looked like they were ready to do some sort of physical labor.
Rose remained in the small waiting room that was furnished with a hodgepodge of thick, well-padded chairs amongst thin wooden ones of cheap construction while he was escorted back into something that could have been a doctor’s surgery—but looked an awful lot like an Inquistor’s torture chamber. Metal poles and leather straps were laid across tables. Bones, whether plaster reproductions or ones removed from their original occupants over time, were set up in corners, hanging from what appeared to be a metal hat stand.
“Good morning. Sir Edmund Locke, is it? Your wife is an incredibly intelligent woman, and well-written, too. Her letters explained how you’ve been troubled by a limp and partial lameness since you suffered a fall from a horse some ten years ago.” Owens spoke to him in an easy, affable manner while strolling around him with an appraising eye.
Edmund didn’t like it. He felt like he was a horse and Owens was the buyer. Any moment now, he expected the man to seize his lips and examine his teeth.
“Yes, that’s accurate,” Edmund said, shifting in his chair.
“Let’s have your shoes off, then,” Thomas spoke in a thick Scottish accent, rubbing his hands together in eagerness. “Anyone can see that the trouble is from the knee downward, and it’s putting all the strain on that ankle. In another ten years, you won’t be walking much at all.”
Edmund swallowed. Such conclusions had already come to his mind, but he always pushed them away, figuring that by limiting his use of his leg, he’d preserve its function. “I am very careful. With the use of my cane, I manage just fine. Indeed, the limp is barely noticeable with a slow, steady gait. It is only that prolonged walking and standing pains me.”
“Mm.” Owens tapped a pen to his lips and made another note. “At the hip?”
“Pardon?”
“Is the pain at the hip?”
“It is everywhere, but yes. The hip is sorely afflicted.”
“Aye, it’s the uneven distribution of the weight. Trousers off, too.” Thomas tapped the edge of a low examining table. “Let Owens get a look at your leg. One day no doubt, we’ll be able to see inside the body without cutting into it. In the meantime, we’ll have to make do with feeling for the breaks.”
When the doctor didn’t raise any objections, Edmund steeled himself and slowly removed his shoes and trousers, wincing as he sat on the examining table. “Is this satisfactory?”
“Very,” the doctor said, coming to his side.
Edmund found himself eased back on the table by a thoughtfully humming Owens, who proceeded to grip his leg so hard that he bit back a scream. “I beg your pardon!”
“Hmm. The bone is actually set quite well. It’s not the bone that is giving you trouble.” Owens went down the leg, pausing as he felt from the knee to the ankle, his thoughtful expression becoming a hard frown. “How was the leg set?”
“Plaster in a wooden casing,” Edmund grunted.
“How soon was it applied? After the fall?”
“Erm.” Edmund paused. His doctor had insisted on keeping him in a sleepy, semi-conscious state for a long period of time after the injury. Days? A week? His mother and Catherine had been there then. “I don’t know for certain, and the physician who set it, Dr. Perkins, was an older man who has since passed on, so I cannot ask him.”
“Well, the body tells its own stories. I see here a very bad break with a protrusion of bone.” Owens ran his fingers over the long and uneven scar that traveled over Edmund’s shin and up to his kneecap. “Many doctors like the swelling to go down before a reduction of the damaged area. It is better science to reduce the fracture immediately, and then cast it. The best and surest methods for casting in plaster are still a matter for debate. I cannot swear to it without discussing it with Perkins, but it seems to me that he left it too long before reducing the fracture and casting it. Nevertheless, that is not your true issue, sir.”
“No?” Edmund felt relief as the aggressive squeezing ended and Owens stood back.
“The bone is set well enough, but you have a curious situation of atrophying muscle in the calf and thigh of this leg, while you have bowed and strained tendons throughout the leg from taking improper weight on the knee and ankle joint. In particular, the ligaments of the affected ankle are shockingly weak, as though they were made immobile and turned inward—and have never been properly exercised afterward to cause them to stretch and realign.” Owens patted Edmund’s ankle with one thick finger. “The bone doesn’t need to be reset.”
“Thank the Lord,” Edmund breathed, hand to his chest.
“Aye, but the muscles need to be retrained. Like runner beans,” Thomas barked from under his bristling mustache. “The ligaments behind the knee and ‘round the ankle must be gradually stretched and strengthened so they can bear weight.”
“Indeed, which will mean that you will require a brace that goes from just above the knee and straps on just under the heel. One leg of your trousers can be let out if you wish to wear the apparatus under your clothing, which is what I recommend. You may also need to speak to a cobbler to see about getting one shoe stretched, or indeed, a new pair made to match, with one being larger to accommodate the strap of your apparatus. You have to get used to moving the leg—there will be no sitting about and waiting for it to heal like a broken bone, Sir Edmund. You must learn to walk, ride, and even dance, if possible.”
Owens began whipping around him like some deranged tailor with a tape, calling out measurements. Thomas wrote everything down whilst grabbing strips of leather and bits of metal, mumbling under his breath.
“And when do I collect the apparatus? Will it need further fittings? My wife mentioned regular adjustments.”
“Indeed, regular adjustments are key,” Owens nodded, scribbling frantically. “You can collect it in... What do you think, Evan? If we put in another few hours today, we could have it for him tomorrow, just before tea.”
Thomas was already attacking a length of leather with fearsome shears. “Grand, tomorrow before tea. Now, don’t look so downhearted, sir! It’ll take time, but in a year or so, I wager you might only need that stick for decoration!”
Edmund blinked. “Really?”
“We’ve seen stranger things, and your case is not the most severe. It’s almost as if the leg weakened from disuse. Did you have a long period of recovery, sir?” Owens asked.
Edmund paused before answering. Various things had kept him from walking much at first. Different things kept him from feeling the need for exercise for several years after. “My first wife passed away shortly after we were wed. She was not supportive of my injury. I felt compelled to sit and watch her enjoying a life I could not give her so soon after my injury, and then, once she was gone, I felt no desire to heal. If not for love of riding and a desire not to ruin my father’s holdings, I would have wasted away. My second wife, the one with whom you’ve corresponded, is the one who has inspired me to regain interest in life. Speaking of which—this is rather a delayed honeymoon. Must I start wearing that contraption straight away?”
Thomas glared, but Owens smiled gently and encouraged, “If you don’t wear it while you’re in London, we cannot see to it that it is properly adjusted and comfortable as possible. Oh, it will be uncomfortable, but without proper calibration, it may do more harm than good.
“Ah. I see.”
“You needn’t wear it while you’re in your bed,” Thomas said with a significant wink.
Edmund bridled. “That is not the point I am making, Mr. Thomas. It is that my wife is a wonderful woman and, as you have witnessed, incredibly attentive and thoughtful. I limp about enough already. I wish I didn’t have to spoil her honeymoon in the bargain.”
“I can quite understand your position. My own dear wife is endlessly patient with the long hours I keep and the far-fetched notions I have.” Dr. Owens passed Edmund his cane. “Where are you staying in London, sir?”
“The Brown Hotel in Albemarle Street.”
“That is not too far from the Guards Club in Pall Mall. There is a club dance tonight, open to the public, but only the public of the finest sort will be admitted. Mrs. Owens” brother is an honored member who has invited us to attend. My dear wife and I would love to escort you and Lady Rose to the function if you care to attend. It will be a grand night with good food and excellent music. Tonight, you can whirl her about the floor in high style with the latest compositions and dances. That sounds like a fine honeymoon evening, doesn’t it, Thomas?”
Thomas made a noise that Edmund took to mean he thought other activities were better.
“I don’t dance, Dr. Owens. Well, I don’t dance well, nor quickly. I can manage the slowest of waltzes with a forgiving partner.”
“Pardon me for arguing with you, but you might never dance better than you do tonight. Every night might be the best time for you—for any able-bodied man. That’s the way of accident and injury.” Thomas stopped hacking at leather to squint at him. “Suppose you were to lose that leg in some accident on the railway heading back to Surrey? You might never dance with your wife.”
Edmund squeezed his fingers into fists, bristling at the interfering comments—and yet knowing the doctor’s assistant had a valid point.
“You do not need to escort us, Dr. Owens, but I hope to see you there. If not, I shall see you late tomorrow afternoon, before tea.” Edmund gave a stiff bow and stiffer smile before making his way back to the anteroom.
Rose instantly stood, a book sliding from her grasp. “Edmund?”
“Come along, darling. We’ll be back tomorrow for my brace. Tomorrow morning, we’ll be sequestered in our rooms—while Walters and Jane let out one leg on all of my trousers.” He gave her a rueful smile.
“Oh, Edmund. I’m sorry, but surely that’s a small inconvenience?” she whispered, taking his offered arm.
“You’re right, it is. And no one will need know I wear a brace except for the closest members of the household—and you. But for tonight, I am moving as freely as I shall for many months, and I intend to take the good doctor’s advice.”
“What advice?”
“To take my beautiful bride to a dance.”