A White Room (38 page)

Thirty-Six

October 1901

L
arry’s skin looked yellow and soggy like ground mustard. Large gaping wounds tunneled deep into the muscle on the undersides of his thighs and one of his arms. I used a warm, damp rag on the red, black, and yellowed tissue, gently dabbing away the foulest-smelling excretions.

My patient groaned and clenched his teeth with each touch.

Ethel watched, empty and exhausted. I don’t believe she had eaten much lately. I hadn’t noticed during the party, but her clothes hung loose. I tried to not think of what would become of her and her child when her husband died. What would have happened to my family if I hadn’t married John Dorr? What would happen to them if I left him?

I pulled the rag off the wound under Larry’s arm and sat back on my heels. Larry was going to die. The only thing we could do was relieve his pain, but the medicine I had wasn’t any match for his infected wounds and rotting liver. I needed something stronger. I needed something only a doctor could provide.

“Ethel? I think we should talk to somebody about getting help.”

“Who?” Tears welled up. “Dr. Bradbridge told that story to my mistress, and I had almost gotten a loan from her to help him. She’s so angry she’s thinking of firing me.”

Ethel could hardly survive with a job, but if she lost it…What could I do to help her then? I finished cleaning Larry’s wounds, picked up my supplies and approached Ethel. “I’ve done all I can.”

She nodded and fiddled with her handkerchief.

I went for the door and stopped, noticing Jacob in the corner playing with the nothing he had.

I looked back at Ethel. “I promise, I’ll figure something out.”

I entered the canary-colored parlor and found Francis and Ella on the sofa just as they’d been the first time I called on them. They looked just as perfect as they had then—perfect dresses, beautiful posture, sipping their tea simultaneously.

I sat across from them clenching my hands. “There is a man, and he is ill—” A servant came in and I stopped, but then I realized that under the right circumstances what I needed to ask would not be inappropriate at all, so I started again. “He’s in pain and his family is quite poor. They need supplies, and I thought maybe the church committee could do something for him.”

“The committee doesn’t do that,” Francis said.

“With Margaret gone, the committee is free to return to charity work.”

“What did you have in mind?” Ella picked up her saucer and teacup from the table.

“This man—he is dying.”

“Has the physician seen him?”

“The senior Dr. Bradbridge has already seen him and said there is nothing he can do, but he is suffering, and his wife has no money.”

“They don’t have friends or family who will help?” Ella asked before sipping.

“No family, and no one else will help because Dr. Bradbridge told everyone in town that the man is a drunk, not to mention the fear everyone has of the Bradbridges and Mr. Coddington.”

“Oh dear.” Ella brought her fingers to her lips. The teacup rattled on the saucer in her other hand.

“Did Dr. Bradbridge give him something for the pain?” Francis scooted forward in her seat.

“He refused.”

“What?” Ella said.

“Oh,” Francis tilted her head. “Is this the man Dr. Bradbridge talked about last Saturday? I knew you must have treated him.”

“Yes.”

“What does he suffer from?” Ella asked.

I stood up and started pacing in front of them as I listed the problems I could not fix. “He has a damaged liver and jaundice. He is plagued by a constant itch, his limbs are swollen, his skin yellow, and now he has three large bedsores. His wife, Mrs. Hughmen, is exhausted and malnourished. She is also trying to care for a son.”

“There’s a child?” Ella said.

I stopped pacing and dropped into my seat. “Yes.”

Ella set her tea down. “How can we help?”

I jumped back up and handed Ella a calling card with the Hughmens’ address written on the back. “Call an emergency meeting, ask the women what they can contribute: money, clean sheets, food, children’s clothes, or time to watch her child and husband or clean and cook for them. Or if they know of a job possibility.”

“Does she not work?”

“Her employment is in jeopardy after her mistress heard the rumor that Mr. Hughmen is a drunk from one of the Bradbridges.”

“Sakes alive.” Francis shook her head.

“If anyone has heard anything about drinking, tell them it’s not true.” I turned to leave.

“Where are you going now?” Ella asked.

I turned back. “I’m going to speak with Margaret.”

“Why?” Francis asked.

“I’m hoping I can persuade her to speak to her husband regarding certain medicines.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Emeline,” Ella said.

“Margaret probably has even less sympathy for this man than her husband,” Francis added.

“I don’t see any other possible solution.”

“Perhaps you should ask Olivia.” Ella lifted her chin.

“Pardon?”

Francis squinted at her mother and then her eyes popped open. “Yes, you should.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say,” Ella said. “But I think she may be inclined to assist you.”

They didn’t know my past with Olivia Urswick, but I told them I’d consider it.

I went to Margaret’s house next. She invited me to sit and then scowled at me as her servants brought tea and peppermint cakes.

“I wanted to thank you for attending our little engagement.”

“Pleasure.”

“I also wanted to apologize for my behavior.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I was disrespectful, and it was not my place. I hope you and your husband will forgive me.”

She simpered and sank out of her tense posture. “Of course, dear. You just got away from yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” I squeezed my gloved hands.

“It’s too bad Miss Urswick can’t be counted upon to remedy the damage from her actions.”

I couldn’t believe her. She was the one who had attacked first and in such an obvious manner that even her own son had looked furious with her behavior. “I also am here to ask for your guidance.”

“Perhaps you should consider more bed rest.”

I ignored her. “The church committee is trying to help a man who is dying.”

“The committee doesn’t do charity.”

“They do now.”

She raised her chin. “I knew that committee wouldn’t last long without me.”

“I have just come from Mrs. Grace. She’s calling an emergency meeting.”

“And?”

“The committee can only do so much. They cannot relieve the man of his horrendous agony.”

“He needs to be seen by my husband, not by committee women.”

“The church committee can’t get anything like medicine.” I placed my teacup and saucer on the table. “But you can.”

Margaret squinted with her left eye.

“Perhaps you could ask your son to donate something.”

“If they need medicine, they need to pay to be seen by my husband or son.”

“You won’t even try?”

“My husband would never.” She turned her nose up.

“Then take it.”

“Bite your words.” She rose from her seat a little.

“I could tell you exactly what he needs. Please.”

She straightened and stood. “How dare you?” Her teeth could crack walnuts. “What kind of little weasel are you?”

I stood, too. “How can you have no sympathy? Are you really that ugly inside?”

Her eyes widened and her lips snarled. She stalked from the seating area, and I stomped after her. She stopped at the parlor threshold and thrust a pointed finger toward the door. “You need to leave, immediately.”

I brushed past her and out the front door. I scuttled down her steps and panicked as I walked away. How could I help Larry now? Ella and Francis had suggested Olivia, but why? Why would she ever help me? Was it because of how much she hated Margaret? I still didn’t know if Olivia was the one hunting me with Walter. If I asked her and they were scheming together, she’d turn me in. She had to be conspiring with him. Why else had he gone to her house that day? Why else would they have hidden that they knew each other in public? I remembered why we first met, how Walter had recommended she sit with me during my bed rest. That meant they knew each other before I had become Mrs. Freeman. I thought of following Walter to her house and the way they acted at the dinner party, how he’d scowled when his mother insulted her. Then I knew.

Olivia opened her own door. “Emeline?”

“May I come in?”

“Of course. I should thank you for an entertaining evening the other night.”

I stepped in and stopped in the hallway. “I’m sorry I must be quick.”

“Are you all right? You seem shaken.”

“I’ve come from the Bradbridges’.”

“Ah.” She crossed her arms. “What is it?”

“There is a man—dying and in agony. Dr. Bradbridge refuses to give him medicine for the pain.”

“Is this the man you defended at dinner?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

She grinned. “What can I do?”

“He needs medicine to relieve the pain, and no one can acquire it without the aid of a physician.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

I hesitated. “You can get the medicine.”

She drew back, shaking her head.

“You can get Dr. Bradbridge’s support.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Dr. Walter Bradbridge, I mean.”

She stepped back.

“I know you know him.”

She put her hand up. “I met him at your party.”

“Walter recommended you to care for me when I was bedridden. He had to have known you, trusted you.”

“Everyone knows the Bradbridges.”

“Yes, but he didn’t recommend just anyone. He recommended you.”

She covered her mouth with her hand.

“I know if you ask, he will help us.”

She lowered her hand and hesitated. “I suppose I’ve been caught.”

My stomach tightened.

Her body relaxed, as if she were relieved. “I am not one to hide, but he actually cares what his father and witch of a mother think. Obviously, they don’t think much of me.”

My stomach leapt.

“Normally, I would never stand for such foolishness, but when you care for someone…”

“You can get the medicine?”

She shifted her weight. “His father’s opinion means a lot to him. I don’t know if he’ll go against it.”

“His father never has to know about his involvement. We just need the medicine. Will you try?”

“I’ll try.”