New Beginnings (New Beginnings Series) (34 page)

“I am sure he must be quite white now, like I am,” Doctor Brown said as he saw her looking so attentively at the photo.

She smiled back at him. “Yes, he is grey and still supports the well-groomed moustache, but I am afraid he doesn’t have the full head of hair you have, sir.”

Sam reached for his wallet and pulled two small photos from a hidden pocket inside, then handed them to the doctor.

“I didn’t know you keep photographs with you.” Sara looked at her husband quite surprised, but her eyes sparkled with the understanding of how much her husband truly cared for her.

“Always,” Sam answered her, with a slight wink the doctor was not privy to.

The first picture was taken on the church steps and showed them with Mary and Doc Brown, or Charles as they discovered, not realizing before what the ‘C’ stood for, as even Lily called him Doc.

“He looks like our father,” was all Clarence could say when he moved the second photo to the top. This one was taken outside of the saloon and was a closer photograph of the doc and Sara.

“He gave me away at our wedding.” She stopped when she saw the doctor raise his finger to his eye.

Finally he spoke, although his voice seemed hoarse as he said, “So he told me in his letter.” Abruptly he put the photo down on the desk directly in front of Sam and proceeded to open the file. On top of a pile of what must have been a dozen or more papers sat a hand-written letter, which filled both sides of three sheets of paper.

“It is a good thing we are both doctors or I might not have been able to read it,” he said laughing. “Eleanor said it must be our own code, as my handwriting is so similar.” He stopped to read then took a paper with some of his own notes written on it. Looking at Sara he began to speak. “Charles went into great detail about your case, Sara. He mentioned the last child born dead in October.”

Immediately the colour drained from her face. Sam’s hand reached for hers as she became uneasy.

“It’s all right,” the doctor spoke quickly when he saw her reaction. “I understand others may condemn a woman under such circumstances, but Sara, I have seen so much working here at the university. Many years ago I worked for the city as a coroner.” He closed his eyes for a second then continued, “Some of the things I have seen … I cannot imagine how anyone could blame the victim … but I realize it happens.” He read his notes for a moment before he continued. “Unfortunately I can’t tell you anything new since I sent a letter back to Charles several years ago. A Doctor Philip Evans from Philadelphia wrote to both of us, trying to explain the bit they learned about similar cases several years ago. They found something in blood samples that differed in a small number of analyses. Unfortunately I tried to find the difference myself under the most powerful of microscopes available to us, but I still cannot find what it is they discovered. I have not heard from this doctor since and have not read of any further development in any journal or manual concerning this matter. I am afraid I am really of no further help to you and the only thing I can suggest is to go to the Jefferson College in Pennsylvania and find Dr. Evans.”

Both Sam and Sara sat back in their chairs. Sam was obviously disappointed there was nothing they could learn at the present time, while Sara wore a more relieved expression. She looked at her husband as he gave her hand a squeeze and smiled slightly as she said, “Well, no news is good news.” But Sam could not share her feeling of relief.

“I wish I could be of more help to you,” Doctor Brown concluded.

Sam stood up and reached for the gentleman’s hand. “We appreciate everything you have done for us.” He picked up the photos and handed the second one, the one of Charles and Sara to him. “I would like you to keep this one.”

The doctor took the photo and thanked him with a smile and a nod. No words needed to be spoken.

Sara also reached for the man’s hand, “Thank you very much.”

He once again took her hand in both of his. “I hope you will find your answers soon. Charles has always spoken highly of you in his letters and I can see why.”

As they turned to leave the room, Sara stopped to admire an unusual copy of a painting gracing the wall near the door. It looked to be a sort of costume ball but the participants were wearing skates and they looked to be in a large building, some skating while others stood watching from the sidelines.

“Ah, you have an eye for unusual things, Mrs. Fielding,” the doctor said. “Do you recognize anyone in the work?”

Sara looked closely at what looked to be a thousand figures in the portrait. “Seeing as you are the only person we know in this fair city I would imagine I am to be searching for your likeness.”

“You catch on quickly.” He stood back to watch the couple as Sam joined her to find the gentleman in the puzzle.

Sara pointed to a fellow in a fur hat. “This looks like a photo I have seen of Prince Arthur.”

At the same moment Sam pointed to another character, “Here is a man with a white beard, but he is wearing a wizard costume.”

The doctor gave his hands a clap. “Very good, you both have keen eyes and you are both right. This work of art was made in 1870 and looks to be completed at a skating carnival in the Victoria Rink. There is a fellow here in Montreal who does this type of work. Practically everyone goes to his studio where he photographs each person individually then makes a composite, working all into the appropriate places. He is the same man who took the photo of Charles and me, but he has developed unusual techniques since then. He is McGill’s official photographer.”

“Who is this man?” Sam asked, quite interested in what they were being told.

“His name is William Notman and he has a studio at this address,” the doctor said as he wrote on a scrap of paper. “If you are interested I know he would do a wonderful job of creating a special photograph of the two of you.”

A knock came on the door and Eleanor poked her head inside, “Your next class starts in ten minutes, should I ask Fredrick to take it also?”

“We are just leaving,” Sam answered before the doctor could speak. “We have already taken up much of your important time. Thank you very much for all the help you have given us.”

Once again they exchanged good wishes and parted company. It was obvious Sara felt relieved at the lack of bad news. Sam wanted to tell her he thought the news was not going to be bad when they were able to learn the situation. But he knew nothing he could say at this time would change her mind. Instead as they stepped outside the door of the doctor’s office, he asked his wife, “How do you feel about getting a keepsake photo of our visit to this amazing city?”

“Let’s do it!” was all she said as she grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him in the direction of the exit.

Chapter Twenty-five

About an hour later they stood in the unusual office of William Notman. The walls of the outer office were covered with prints of every description. Some were of finished products and beside them were photos of the subject taken in the indoor studio, in the same pose, but a different setting.

“This could be very interesting,” Sara said still looking closely at the selection before them. “Look over here, Sam,” Sara spoke quite excitedly and her husband was quick to join her to look at the many poses. “These are all of the Windsor Hotel. This one says it is the St. Andrew’s Society Ball in November of ’78,” she read the card beside it. “This must be the same ballroom we saw. Look how beautifully dressed everyone is. Here are Princess Louise and her husband, the Marquis of Lorne.”

“And Prime Minister Macdonald,” Sam added, as he pointed to another character. Putting his arms around her, he whispered, “I wondered if anyone famous was ever in our bed.”

“You mean like Sarah Bernhardt maybe?”

“I was thinking you’d be more interested in Mark Twain or the Marquis of Lorne.”

“You rascal,” she answered with a sly grin. A young gentleman came into the outer office and the couple stepped away from each other.

“Mr. Notman?” Sam asked, extending his hand.

The fellow shook his head saying, “No, I am Mr. Notman’s assistant. Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, I presume?” The look of surprise showed on both their faces made him continue. “Doctor Brown telephoned from the university and asked us to take care of you.”

They were whisked away to separate rooms where several people assisted them. There was clothing of all descriptions and working quickly they were both undressed then redressed. Sara had makeup applied and her hair quickly coiffed by someone who was quite skilled. Then she was helped into an elegant ball gown. Jewellery, much like she saw on the woman at the ball, was placed in her hair and around her neck. It all looked quite beautiful but when she was admiring it closely one of the ladies said, “It is glass. If it was real we could all be in danger of a robbery. Sometimes grand women come here for their portraits with their own jewels and bodyguards.”

They worked quickly and it was obvious they were used to what the process involved.

The dress Sara wore carried a long train and one of the assistants carefully scooped it up in her arms and directed her to walk out into the adjoining room … the studio.

This was a large area with three oversized skylights directing the sunlight into different areas of the room. Properties for the photographs almost filled the space, most appearing to be for winter design.

Several moose and elk heads rested in one corner and when Sara hesitated at the sight, the girl answered, “A very successful hunter is coming in tomorrow for his photograph and these were brought in today for preparation.”

Sam was walking toward Sara from across the room, a large grin covering his face. “You are quite ready for the ball now.”

“Not quite,” Sara answered, as she turned around and showed how the dress was pulled together with string and clamps at the back so the front fit perfectly.

Sam laughed as he lifted his jacket slightly and showed similar restraints. “All right, a pretend ball then.”

The woman directed them to the area Sara recognized as properties from a ballroom, similar to the ones in the hotel.

All of a sudden beside them appeared an energetic gentleman with a strong Scottish accent as he greeted them. “Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, I am William Notman.” He was a brusque, smart-looking man but wore an unusual beard, with long sideburns which continued down over his jaw to meet under his chin, the rest of his face being clean shaven. As they shook hands he continued, “Clarence Brown has asked me to give you special attention today. He mentioned you are staying at the Windsor and suggested a ballroom setting. Please have patience with me as we set your pose.”

With only words of direction he proceeded to place them in a position to resemble a stopped moment in a fast waltz. He instructed two of his assistants as to what he required. He wanted the dress to look like it was flowing in the motion. He excused himself and went to another customer as they were being prepared.

The loop on the train of the dress was placed around Sara’s wrist and a thin metal stand was set under their clasped hands to rest them on. Trying to work quickly, the assistants sewed several strong threads to the dress, pulled tight and tied them to a chair to make it look like it flowed elegantly on its own. Even Sara’s hair was pulled to the side to look like they were involved in fast motion. Sam rested his knee against another stand as if he was taking a step.

It was a long and grueling process when Mr. Notman appeared to be satisfied with everything. He directed the couple to look into each other’s eyes but not to smile. “It is nearly impossible to hold a smile for forty seconds and that is how long I need you to be perfectly still for. Ready … take a breath and … hold it!”

The forty seconds stretched out for what felt like several minutes, but they held their pose perfectly. Each read the smile and laugh in the other’s eyes.

With few words, Mr. Notman went to another gentleman who stood wearing his blanket coat, toque and scarf of the Montreal Snowshoeing Club. He was ready to set the pose again.

Sam and Sara were both directed back to the dressing rooms where it all began more than an hour before. Sara found an older woman dressed completely in elegant furs having make-up applied for her photography session that would begin soon. An assistant helped Sara out of her apparel and thanked her for coming as she left the room.

Once again they found themselves in the office of the studio, quite alone. Finally one of the male assistants stepped inside, surprised the Fieldings were still there.

“How much do I owe you?” Sam asked, proceeding to pull out his wallet.

“Nothing. Doctor Brown is taking care of it and will see the finished product is sent to you.” The young man removed a photograph from the wall and returned to the other room. Obviously the decision of payment and follow-up was taken care of and there was no changing it.

The studio was not far from the hotel and they thought to enjoy the walk back.

“He appears a touch eccentric,” Sam suggested of the man whose work was becoming quite famous.

“And I think a bit of a perfectionist,” Sara added. “His work is nothing like I have ever seen before and I didn’t expect such an extensive process.”

“I couldn’t help but think when I was looking into those beautiful blues of yours, how it is too bad photographs are only black and white.”