Chapter Text
“Sir, the doctor has arrived.”
Lord Marcus Kane set aside his bifocals and arose with haste, his heart clamoring with anticipation inside his chest cavity. “Splendid,” he said. “Thank you, Russell.”
Downstairs stood a short statured woman dressed like she had just traveled a long journey. Luggage piled at her feet. Lord Kane cleared his throat and smiled. “My apologies, ma’am, but I was expecting a doctor.”
“I am the doctor,” she replied self-assuredly, straightening her bonnet.
His eyes roamed her small figure as he scrutinized her with pursed lips. “With all due respect, madam, I was under the impression that my daughter’s doctor would be a man.”
“You were sorely mistaken, good sir.”
He raised a brow. “The advertisement in the herald had you listed under the name Adam Griffin,” he said with suspicion. He scratched his bare chin in thought.
She smiled cloyingly up at him. “It must have been a misprint,” she said.
He tutted. “I see…”
“Although the name was falsely written, I assure you my qualifications remain accurate,” she said, her chin pointed high.
Lord Kane’s lips curled slightly in amusement. He was rather impressed with her tenacity. “We shall see about that… I am Marcus Kane, by the way. And to whom do I owe the pleasure, ma’am? Obviously you are no Adam.”
“I am Doctor Abigail Griffin, sir. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord,” she said, straining a smile.
It was obvious they had gotten off on the wrong footing and Ms. Abigail likely found him to be your typical narrow-minded fellow who thought of women as a lesser species whilst he was nothing of the sort. The doctor’s sex was nothing of his business or interest. Actually, he had dreams for his own daughter that she would someday recover and become a doctor if she wished.
The nurse who had once lived on the estate had done all that she knew to do so he hired another, then another. Nurse after nurse, their prescription was all the same: rest. Octavia would sleep and she would wake, growing weaker by the passing days. As his daughter’s condition worsened, he grew desperate. He did not consider himself a religious man, actually he was anything but, however, he found himself falling to his knees and crying out to the ceiling to whomever would perchance listen to his pleas to spare his daughter. It would be the one and only time he ever prayed.
Despite his wealthy status and his tireless efforts of writing letters to the best doctors in Edenshire, Stratford-Upon-Arkadia, Upton Jaha, and beyond, he found difficulty in discovering a doctor available for routine care for his beloved daughter. The epidemics that plagued southeast England (smallpox, yellow fever) occupied the majority of the doctors’ time.
One evening following tea time, his deep brown eyes had scanned the Edenshire Herald just like they did every evening for the past decade. (Marcus Kane was a man of routine.) As if fate intervened in his deepest hour of need, he had stumbled upon a notice in the bottom right-hand corner of the newspaper of one self-proclaimed highly qualified Doctor Adam Griffin seeking employment, preferably as a live-in doctor. Lord Kane had decided to write a letter straightaway and soon began a correspondence between the doctor who agreed to pack his belongings and arrange a carriage to bring him to the lord’s estate of Polis Park.
Of course, he was now no longer under the misconception that Octavia’s doctor was male, but that the person he had been exchanging letters with was one Abigail Griffin. A sly one, she was, but she was not backing down to tell him the true reasoning behind the pseudonym. Although it did not take one of great sagacity to conclude it was because of the gender inequality that existed in late 19th century England. If her qualifications proved to be valid, it did not matter to him whether she wore a petticoat or trousers. In all truth, he could not blame her for her hesitation to present her true self. He considered himself to be of the progressive lot but even so, if he was not such a man, he would still put his politics aside if it meant saving his daughter’s life. And that was what Doctor Abigail Griffin was supposedly going to do: save his daughter’s life. He hoped.
~~~
Abigail, known as Abby to those dear to her, was not a dishonest woman, but from an early age her father taught her that it was a cruel world and one needed to do what was necessary for means of survival – even if it meant telling a little white lie. After all, what was the harm in it? It is not uncommon knowledge that one who does what it takes to survive will deserve to survive after the effort they put forth, and survival was all that Abigail Griffin had known since she had lost those dearest to her.
She followed the butler called Russell upstairs to her quarters as the footman Miles carried her luggage up the elegantly spiraled staircase. (At first Abby thought she misunderstood, but she truly was given a quarter of the upstairs – practically her own flat.) The walk took her doubly the time it should have as her eyes kept getting caught on glimmering golden trinkets and marble statues. Abby could not help but gasp in adoration. Russell stood idly by, waiting patiently as Abby gathered herself enough to press on. Abby’s family was well-off but far not necessarily wealthy – especially far from this sort of wealth. She entered her chambers and spun around with childlike glee.
“I shall escort you to Lady Octavia’s room now,” said Russell, placing Abby’s bags at the foot of her bed. A grand-sized bed it was.
“This is quite the exquisite room,” Abby said, ignoring Russell’s request.
“Indeed. It was once the master’s.”
“Why does he not stay here now? Dear heavens, I have not displaced him, have I?”
“No, madam. It is really not for me to say. Come along now, if you please.”
Abby’s face contorted as she observed Russell’s back while he led her down the hallway. It was quite the magnificent hallway. Perhaps the most magnificent of all hallways. A colossal painting that looked it could be the likes of Michelangelo hung on the wall just opposite of the stairs. For just a moment, Abby paused to take in the exquisite work until the clearing of Russell’s throat jolted her from her astonishment and she joined him just outside of Lady Octavia’s chambers.
She entered the room to find an ashen child, white as her sheets that laid messily underneath her bare and crooked legs. She sat haggardly upright in her bed. The circles under her eyes were as dark as her irises. Her young face that should have been round and soft instead was haunted by sickly sharp angles. Abby perched on the edge of the bed and spoke softly to the child.
“And who do we have here?” she asked.
“Octavia,” the child weakly replied.
“Lovely to meet you, Octavia. Can you tell me how old you are?”
“I’m six,” she said meekly.
The child held up six weary fingers in front of Abby.
“That’s wonderful. You can call me Abby. I’ll be your doctor.”
“A doctor? But you’re a lady.” There was genuine confusion in the child’s voice.
There was laughter which was hastily covered by a cough and Abby turned her head in search of the noise behind her.
“I do apologize on behalf of my child. She is being rather uncouth,” said Lord Kane.
“Like father like daughter,” Abby muttered before directing her attention back to Lady Octavia. “Women can be doctors, too, now. I promise I will take very good care of you. Alright?”
“Alright.”
“Good. I will leave you to rest for now,” Abby said cordially.
She stood to leave and invited herself out of Lady Octavia’s chamber, pointedly ignoring Lord Kane’s cloying polite smile as she grazed past his body in the corridor.
“Ma’am,” he called after her.
“Lord Kane,” she merely said without even turning around, nearing her quarters with every step.
“I shall like to have a word.”
Stopping in her tracks, she turned then, watching as he leisurely inched his way closer to her. “Perhaps the day you learn to address me like a professional then will I give you the time of day.”
Lord Kane scrunched his face and chuckled. “What so ever do you mean?”
“I am no ma’am. I am a doctor and I expect you to address me as such, just as you did in your letters to me – or rather, to Adam.”
Lord Kane’s mouth gaped and a fertile silence of awareness flooded the gargantuan corridor. He bowed his head. “Of course. How silly of me. I do apologize, doctor,” he said with emphasis. “If I may have a word?” He gestured towards a room off to the side and she followed him. He closed the door behind them as they entered what looked to Abby like his study.
“So?” Lord Kane asked, wringing his hands.
“So?”
“So, what is the matter with my daughter?” His dark eyes scanned her face seemingly searching for any clues to tell him the gravity of the situation.
Abby stifled a laugh. “Lord Kane, I simply cannot diagnose your child after one brief encounter. She is visibly ill. Extremely. Based on physical observance alone, her contorted legs are especially cause for concern.”
“Yes,” he said, sadly.
“However, I would like to build a rapport with her before I start prodding her with examination tools.”
“A rapport? With all due respect, ma’am — pardon… With all due respect, doctor, my daughter is extremely ill, you just said yourself. She requires treatment not friendship,” he said with a scoff.
“For how long has she been sick?”
Lord Kane sucked in air between his teeth. “Close to half a year now, I suppose.”
“Then a few days will not make a difference.”
Lord Kane opened his mouth to protest.
“Who is the doctor here, Lord Kane?” Abby asked with an icy stare.
Her response garnered an exasperated sigh from the master but he simply bit his lip and nodded his head as he escorted her back into the hall.
That man… He infuriated her to her very core! So haughty and pompous – she could not stand the likes of him already.
Chewing at her lip in frustration, she arrived back into her quarters to discover that all of her luggage had been properly unpacked and put away. Living at Polis Park was like a storybook tale with fairies who did everything for you whilst you moseyed about with not a care. However, she did care. She cared to find a cure for the young girl. No child should be bedridden and she was determined to successfully treat Lady Octavia.
Following a short rest, as she felt weary from her travels (a two-hour train ride and then a half-hour carriage ride), Abby was given a complete tour of Polis Park. As expected, the rest of the house was adorned with expensive paintings, lavish furniture, and exorbitant statues.
Once the tour was over, she was introduced to some of the help of the estate. She spoke briefly to the laundrymaid called Lorelei who was occupied scrubbing linens on a washboard. The housekeeper, Mrs. Rebecca, was too flustered to speak more than three words to Abby as she fluttered about like a busy bee; however, the housemaid and governess were especially friendly and took time to ask Abby about herself over a spot of tea in the second parlor.
“Where do you stay?” Abby asked Calliope, the governess, after describing to them her living quarters, which they of course were already familiar with.
“A small cottage on the estate. It is merely a short walk from here.”
“And the others?”
“Same as I. They live scattered about the property in various cottages.”
“Pray tell, why must I stay under the same roof as such an unbearable and vain man?” Abby was pouting, though she did not care. “It is not fair!”
“Lord Kane may be brooding and difficult, at times, Doctor, but he treats us all justly. You do not want to hear the horror stories of other servants under the rule of less-than-fair masters, such as the baron Charles Pike.” The governess, Indra, looked upon Abby with widened eyes. Fear fluttered in Abby’s stomach.
“Yes, he even dines with us. Well, he used to. Until Lady Octavia fell ill.”
He dined with the servants? That was practically unheard of in modern times!
“Oh my. How willfully ignorant of me.” A flush crept up on Abby’s face.
“There, there, Doctor. I, more than most, can relate to how difficult Lord Kane can be,” whispered Calliope.
“You ladies can call me Abby,” she said. Her mouth curved up into a smile. “Doctor is reserved for Lord Kane.”
The trio shared a hushed laugh. Indra glanced at her pendant watch and stood swiftly. “I must go. It is time for Lady Octavia’s spelling lesson.”
As Indra exited the parlor, Abby watched with wide eyes through the opened door to the kitchen as the chef and kitchen maid clamored amongst pots and pans. The chef, called Nygel according to Calliope, and the kitchen maid, called Harper, worked with celerity as they prepared for the day’s meal.
“What is that smell?” Abby asked, making a face.
“Friday is fish day,” stated Calliope.
Abby shook her head in wonder. “How many bodies are within this residence? My family had merely one servant.”
“Hmm,” Calliope began thoughtfully. “You have met Russell, the butler, and Miles, the footman. There is myself – the housemaid, and Lorelei the laundrymaid. Nygel is the chef – do not get in her way, I warn you. Harper is the timid yet diligent kitchen maid. Indra, whom you just met, is the governess. And—”
“NO!” A scream from Lady Octavia startled the pair. “I cannot! It hurts too much! I can’t bear it!” Lady Octavia exclaimed, choking a sob.
Abby arose and turned to see Lady Octavia in the hall, crawling on all fours, pleading with a woman to escort her back to her chambers.
“That is Ms. Charmaine, Lady Octavia’s head nurse,” Calliope murmured.
“You need some fresh air, my lady!”
“No, I mustn’t! The pain is unbearable! Daddy!” The child flipped onto her back. Her small legs were pale and bowed.
“For how long have her legs been like this?” Abby asked, now in the hallway alongside the head nurse.
“Not for very long. A month, perhaps. Half a year ago, the pain and weakness began. It’s steadily worsened since then.” Charmaine’s face fell. She fell to her knees to wipe the hair from Lady Octavia’s sticky tearstained face. She shushed her and kissed her forehead.
“I wish to return to my chambers now,” Lady Octavia whimpered.
“As you wish,” Charmaine said, standing. She turned her attention to Calliope. “Calliope, fetch Miles and have him return Lady Octavia to her chambers this instant.”
Soon, Calliope returned with the footman at her side and Miles lifted Octavia into his arms and carried her up the grand staircase. Abby followed right behind his trails, leaving her tea in the parlor to grow cold. She was far more concerned in examining Lady Octavia.
~~~
“What happened to building a rapport first?” asked Lord Kane in the corridor. He donned a haughty arched eyebrow that stirred a deep resentful anger within Abby. She closed the door behind her which led to Lady Octavia’s chambers and pushed past the lady’s exasperating father.
She tutted at his remark. “Are you here to catechize me on my every move? I feel as though I am under your microscope. Every time I glance up, you’re breathing down my neck!”
Lord Kane peered at her with eyes that fought to turn as dark as night. With his jaw clenched, he replied. “Well, Doctor, forgive my apprehension but if you do recall, you deceived me. My daughter is currently under your care. Surely you can understand my trepidation.”
“Truly, sir, I do understand. I made a mistake and I am sorry I fooled you but I am a skilled doctor. I am a professional! I will not stand around and be chastised by anyone: man, woman, rich, or poor. I shall pack up my belongings and find work elsewhere if you will not respect me.”
“No,” he pleaded, his eyes stricken with fear. “I verily believe you can help my daughter. Please.” Lord Kane opened his mouth to speak once more but fastened it shut.
Abby rubbed her hands together and scrutinized him expectantly. When he did not speak, she chose to do so. “Sir, I was told you once dined with the help, but not anymore. I did think I should ask if we could dine together this evening.”
He stared at her mutely. His dark and curled eyelashes fluttered; a wrinkle formed between his brows at her question. She was on tenterhooks awaiting his response.
“Yes, of course,” he said finally, “I was going to suggest the same.”
~~~
“So tell me, sir, does my womanhood disturb you?”
His brows knitted but behind his chalice he failed to hide the smallest hint of a smirk. If he were honest with himself, he found her frankness to be somewhat endearing. Nevertheless, he shook his head dismissively. “Why must you mention an issue that has been hitherto discussed and laid to rest? Are you not the type, Doctor, to let sleeping dogs lie?”
“Perhaps I do have a tendency to revisit certain controversies.”
She chewed at her lip, humor glinted in her mocha eyes. For the first time since her arrival, he allowed himself to notice her beauty, only briefly, before he pushed away his physical impulses. She was his daughter’s doctor; she wished for him to treat her with respect. Surely ogling at her like a lascivious buffoon was not a sign of professional reverence in any sense of the term.
“To answer your question,” he began, “and to hopefully lay the issue to rest once and for all: no, your womanhood disturbs me not. I am simply relieved to have found a skilled doctor such as yourself, regardless of your sex.” Her silence told him that his answer was satisfactory.
Soon, their main course of fish arrived and the doctor dined on it sumptuously. Indeed, she had worked up quite the appetite, that much was apparent to him. Silence was bestowed on them the rest of the meal until Mrs. Rebecca gathered their sullied plates and Lord Kane offered her a short word of thanks.
“Shall you take a walk with me? I often enjoy some fresh air after I have had a large meal.”
“That sounds quite lovely,” the doctor responded, accepting his proffered hand as she stood.
~~~
The evening sky provided them just enough light as they strolled the gardens of Polis Park. The burnt orange slowly faded away above their heads as the heavens fought to turn obsidian. Abby found herself walking awkwardly close beside Lord Kane lest a wild beast were to appear out of the shrubbery and begin to gnaw at her shins. She was never a skittish woman until it came to wildlife. Suddenly, a mere rustle in the bush startled her so greatly, the color drained from her face and she grabbed Lord Kane’s arm as a biting gasp escaped her. She broke away from him immediately, her pale face growing crimson. In the midst of all of the commotion, it had not instantly dawned on her that the sounds Lord Kane was making – the low, guttural noise – was, of all things, laughter. Her chagrin quickly transformed into an unspeakable and inexplicable rage. She could not determine what about the man enraged her so. Perhaps it was his vainglory or imperiousness or the way he always stood with his aquiline nose pointed towards the azure celestial sphere. There had never been another human being alive that had the ability to enrage Abby with such ease and she had only known him for a mere twelve hours. If she had allowed herself time to ponder on the thought, she would possibly admit that it was an impressive feat. She glared at him with disdain and his laughter died off instantaneously. She grunted and gathered her skirt in her hands and plodded past him violently, her anger blinding herself from the fear of the rustling shrubbery.
“Doctor,” he called out, his feet already at her heels.
Abby groaned. “Why must you be so constantly irksome? Can we not walk in comfortable silence?”
“I am simply trying to get to know my daughter’s doctor,” he replied, innocently enough. Her own wall of Jericho immediately began to crumble as she remembered the sickly little girl with the translucent eyelids and bent legs.
She sighed a sigh of surrender. “What would you like to know?”
“How long have you been a physician? What inspired you?”
Abby drew a long breath before she began, directing her eyes upward to the darkening sky as the memories overtook her.
“I lost my daughter, Clarke, to diphtheria when she was age four. Two years later, my husband Jake succumbed to scarlet fever. We had a happy little home together, just the three of us, in the outskirts of Stratford-Upon-Arkadia, but after losing them both, I moved back in with my parents in Edenshire. It was then I had to either choose a career path or choose to marry. Cooking and cleaning were never my strong suits and it pained me too harshly to care for someone else’s child so soon after losing my own. I had heard of women going to medical school. As time went on, I began to consider it for myself. It may sound strange but I always had a fascination with diseases. I had read a dozen books on the black plague by the time I was thirteen. My mother and father thought it was ridiculous and they would shut me down whenever I tried to mention it. ‘Just find a husband,’ my father would say. ‘Life will be much easier for you that way,’ my mother would add. But I thought back to all of the nights when I read my daughter to sleep and as I kissed her smooth little forehead I’d say ‘You can be anything you dream, my sweet one.’
“After months of deliberation, I finally made the decision to go to medical school. It was a struggle to even get accepted but one school in particular was so impressed with my knowledge and abilities that they finally accepted me. Not without a fight, mind you, but nevertheless, I persisted and got in. I was their first female pupil. The male pupils had all voted unanimously to let me in. Despite earning my degree after tireless efforts, my parents were still unconvinced. As it turns out, simply because one has a degree does not make it so easy to just find a job. Not with my sex, at least. But then I arrived here, at Polis Park. Undoubtedly, I am forever in your favor.”
Lord Kane squinted, a corner of his mouth turning upward only slightly. “Well, it isn’t like you got the job in the most honest way…”
The hope inside her deflated. “One could say I was growing desperate.”
“But it does sound like I made the right decision.”
She brightened. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t make me regret my act of kindness, Doctor.”
And just like that, the familiar attitude of Lord Kane was back. She inwardly rolled her eyes. “Of course, Lord Kane.”
“Forgive me, Doctor, but surely remarrying would have been a much easier path to take. Have you no plans to remarry in the future?”
“I am married to my occupation.”
“That is a novel excuse,” he chuckled.
“It is not an excuse, Lord Kane. I vowed to help the sick. I had lived enough of my life watching sick people die without having any ability to do something about it. Now I can finally help them recover.”
“I admire you for that. Truly.”
Lord Kane graciously escorted Abby back inside. They stood at the base of the staircase.
“I did appreciate the company,” he said flatly.
“Likewise,” she replied with partial honesty.
“If you will excuse me, I am bedward. I have a long day ahead. I’ll see you in the morrow… Doctor.” His pompous smirk hinted that he continued to find her insistence to be referred to as “Doctor” a farcical matter. The nerve of that man!
“God willing,” she said as she strained a smile, determined to end the evening with her master on a friendly note.
“God,” Lord Kane said followed by a scornful scoff, already turning on his heels to leave.
“Do you not believe in God, my lord?” Abby inquired.
Lord Kane stopped in his tracks and turned to face her once more. He chewed at his lip in thought and then said, “Every day I wake up and kiss my ailing daughter good morning and I question how could a benevolent, loving god allow an innocent child to suffer as she. So to answer your question, Doctor, no, I do not believe in God.”