The Armored Doctor (Curiosity Chronicles Book 2) (13 page)

“You won’t be assisting me today,” he said, while he tied her bandage again. “You’re to rest here. Then, if you feel better, you can go home in the afternoon.”

She gave him no argument. Even if her head didn’t hurt, his patients wouldn’t know what to think if she were to appear before them all bandaged up.

“I also want you to refrain from work for a while.”

“How long?”

“Until Friday. In the meantime, since you’re the better artist, you can start sketching the COIC project. We need to find the best place to embed the Aspasian metals into that gauntlet gun.”

She liked that he said
we
. At last, he included her in every aspect of his practice. “I’ll get started as soon as I can.”

“But not until you feel up to it.” The clock chimed downstairs. He rose. “A patient will be here early. I’d better go. I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours.”

He left as Maria returned with breakfast.

#

Abigail did feel well enough to leave that afternoon. After Maria was kind enough to lend her a hat that concealed most of the bandage, she took a cab back to her boarding house. Struthers accompanied her, at Jacob’s insistence.

Despite putting on a brave face for Jacob, Abigail was left somewhat unnerved by last night’s attack. Even from the safety of the cab, she felt compelled to watch the street closely. An odd feeling settled about her as she tried to relax. She got the feeling that she and Struthers were being watched.

“Your residence, Miss Benton,” Struthers announced, after the cab stopped at the corner. He saw her to the door.

Even as people hurried by on their late afternoon jaunts, she still felt eyes on her. It had to be her nerves. Struthers hardly looked discomfited. “Thank you, Struthers. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She went into the boarding house, tugging the hat brim over her brow.

The chair at the front desk was empty, but a cup of tea sat steaming beside a ladies domestic magazine. The landlady must have only gotten up a moment before to tend to an errand.

Good. If Abigail didn’t have to suffer through looks as to why she was just now coming home after nearly thirty-six hours, in the same dress she had on yesterday, then she would count it a blessing. She kept her head down as she passed another female tenant and tiptoed around the hall to her room.

Her room was the same as she left it yesterday morning. The bed was made. The washbasin and pitcher were arranged neatly on the stand. Nothing looked out of place.

She picked up a charcoal pencil from the floor and return it to the case on the table. The afternoon sun got in her eyes. She went to the window to draw the curtain.Abigail’s fingers halted on the curtain as she took in the view across the street. Below the sign of a storefront, a man dressed in a well-worn suit and brown topper flicked his cigar stub in the gutter before walking away. Abigail found herself shying away from full view in the glass.

Goodness. She pulled the curtain closed. Was she to be spooked at the sight of every man she saw on a street corner from now on?

She removed Maria’s hat from her head and sat at the table. A quick sketch would calm her before she had to rearrange her hair to conceal her wound and change clothes for supper in the dining hall. She took the charcoal pencil out of the case and put it to her sketchpad.

Only then did her unease subside, but traces of it remained, hiding, in the corners of her mind.

#

January, 1838

Roughly one month passed since Jacob offered Abigail permanent employment. Once month since she suffered an injury at the hands of the street gang. He resolved to maintain the former and prevent the latter from happening again.

The overhead lamps provided light in the cellar as he watched his assistant inspect the newly refurbished gauntlet gun. Abigail turned it over and saw where he embedded a steel plaque into the forearm portion and inserted the Aspasian iron and copper alloy. The plate connected to wires above the wrist.

“It looks just as how I sketched it,” she talked, as she admired his handiwork. “I’m glad that I was able to illustrate the concept you described to me.”

“The gauntlet couldn’t have been completed without your help.” He was pleased when his sincere compliment brought a smile to her face.

She turned the gauntlet over again. A flash of copper peeked out from the sleeve of her blouse. Jacob was glad to see that she wore the cuff with the retractable pocket pistol that he fitted for her. The pistol it contained was discreet enough to be hidden beneath a shirtsleeve, but capable of injuring a would-be assailant if he got too close. All with the press of a button.

He hoped she would never have to use it, but if the situation occurred, she had a weapon to protect herself.

“Now that you have the voice-responsive metals and copper wires affixed, how exactly does the gauntlet work?” Abigail caught one of the wires between her fingers.

“That, I’m still working on.” And with less than two months before he was scheduled to present the device to the COIC, he had little time for extensive experimentation. “I did some tests before you arrived this morning.” He directed Abigail’s attention to the wires again. “When I put the gauntlet on and spoke aloud, the wires moved. They conducted the sound of my voice, but nothing registered with the device. I wonder if I need a larger amount of the Aspasian metals.”

She eyed the steel plate. “Perhaps the metals don’t register voices when they’re worn close to the body.”

“That would defeat my theory, then. And my chances of getting the commission from the COIC.”

“Perhaps not.” She tucked part of her lower lip between her teeth and placed a hand on one hip as she continued to study the gauntlet. She looked so charmingly deep in thought that Jacob’s dismay over his potentially debunked theory was temporarily eased.  “The Aspasian metals might register other sounds besides your voice.” She brought his attention back to their work, “What if it heard your heartbeat instead?”

“My heartbeat?”

She nodded, moving the wisps of hair that escaped the bun at the nape of her neck. “This may seem far-fetched, but if the metals are worn close to or on the skin, can it be possible that they’re, I don’t know, able to sense pulse and muscle movement?”

“It’s possible, but even if that’s the case, the weapon is useless if it can’t be activated by speaking.”

“It may not be. Would you mind putting the gauntlet on again?”

Jacob rolled up his shirtsleeve. “What are you hoping to find?”

“I’ll know in a moment.” She held out the gauntlet for him to put his hand through the glove. She cinched the cuff around his wrist and buckled the straps along the inside of his forearm. Her soft, light fingertips tickled as they moved quickly over his skin, adjusting the steel plate containing the Aspasian metals over the pulse point of his upper forearm.

The connecting wires began to move. Jacob turned his arm over and saw the wire’s movement carry upward to the small unit containing the spring release mechanism for the pistol. He turned away from Abigail and went to depress the switch to make the firearm unfold. His fingertips barely flanked the switch’s surface before the unloaded pistol sprang from its compartment to land in his hand. “That didn’t happen before.”

Abigail moved to his right. “You didn’t have the plate lined up on your brachial artery.” She looked up flittingly and provided, “Your pulse point.”

“I know what it is.” He retracted the gun. “I’m just surprised that veins and arteries found their way into our discussion of sound-conducting metals.”

“I suppose it was bound to happen when you hired an assistant with a background in vascular medicine.”

“I’m glad I did.”

The tawny glow deepened in her cheeks. Jacob felt a nervous clench in his stomach. He spoke too freely. What if she took that to be a flirtation? Was it?

Abigail smoothed her hair and resumed with the original topic. “But as I was saying, I wonder if the gauntlet gun would work better if you incorporated more pulse points on the body for the wires to connect.”

“That’s going to be a challenge. The COIC commissioned a weapon and light armor for its field agents.”

Her light green eyes darted to his torso and her brow immediately furrowed.

Jacob followed the path of her gaze, wondering if he spilled tea on his waistcoat at breakfast. “What is it?”

She tilted her head, now appearing to disapprove of the color of his necktie. “My sister once said that gentlemen don’t concern themselves with fashion as much as women because their clothing hasn’t changed much in the past two centuries.”

“Come now. I’ve had this tie and waistcoat for a couple seasons, but they don’t look that old.”

She chuckled. “No, but your waistcoat is descended of the iron breastplates men wore to protect themselves in battle. What if you made one now, using light steel? Would it hold up against a weapon?”

“It could deflect a knife and possibly a bullet from a small gun fired at medium range. But how would the Aspasian metals detect pulse if an armor plate is in the way? ”

“You could embed a second set of copper wires in the plate here.” She touched two fingers on the pocket of his waistcoat, over his heart. “They could extend to your scapular artery.” The fingers of her left hand traced a pattern across his chest to his right shoulder. “And finally travel to connect with the wires and steel plate of the gauntlet.”

Jacob’s pulse sped in every place that she touched. What was wrong with him? Abigail’s touch was not as a lover, but merely to show how the armor was to be crafted. Had he been without a woman’s affection for so long that he began to imagine that she could feel that way about him?

He pleaded with the gauntlet’s wires, hoping they didn’t jump to match his heart’s erratic beat. Sure enough, they were moving. “This has all been very interesting.” He pulled his arm away from Abigail and pressed it to his side. “Should we get to work, then?”

Abigail dropped her fingers from his chest. “Pardon me.” She rushed to speak, her voice sounding flustered. She rubbed the creamy skin of her neck. “I got carried away.”

As did he, only Jacob was certain that her departure was much more scientifically-related. He removed the gauntlet. He did a fine job of making her uncomfortable. But Abigail was too gracious to add to the already awkward situation by telling him so.

“I’ll begin sketching the armor plate.” She went away from him, towards the worktable. The sound of her rummaging for a pencil echoed the din in his mind as he hastened to return himself to reality.

He must uphold professional decorum. He had to stop thinking about that silly kiss between them that occurred two months ago. Just like the nitrous oxide Abigail had accidentally breathed in that made her forget herself that day, so had she forgotten her actions as soon as the smoke dissipated. It was high time he did the same.

Or else he’d miss his deadline and lose the chance to earn funding to help his patients. He thought about it as he rolled his sleeve down. He still had other people to care for. He hoped he could return to feeling that work was enough, but with Abigail so near, that notion became increasingly difficult to recapture.

March, 1838

After being in the missions, there were very few things in life Abigail prided herself on besides her faith and work ethic. Being attracted to her intelligent, brave, and persevering employer certainly wasn’t one of them.

In fact, it was most improper, she thought, as she watched Jacob test the newly improved gauntlet gun on the grounds in the back of his house. A patient cancelled an appointment, and the unseasonably warm overcast March day allowed them to take the hour to work on the COIC-commissioned project.

When did it start?
, she wondered, while Jacob aimed at a target he set up beneath a wizened oak. Was it a month before, when, in her efforts to explain how breastplates were precursors to waistcoats, she kept her hand steadily affixed to his chest?

She groaned at the embarrassing memory of such liberty she took upon his person.

Jacob fired the gun at the target.

Or was it a little before then, when he drove off that street gang and got her to safety? They hadn’t run into them since.

Maybe it was when he started being candid with his patients and telling them how he lost his leg in India. The courage it took for him to reveal that only endeared him to her even more.

Or did her attraction form in the very beginning, when he first entered the apothecary, and his avant-garde appearance and piercing blue eyes caught her attention?

He turned those eyes to her after shooting the target a second time. The sun was not bright enough for him to need his lenses outside today. She liked that. “What do you think?”

Of his eyes? How ice blue they were? “Oh, that I cannot say,” she murmured.

“Sorry?”

Heavens, but her mind did nothing but wander these days. He was asking her about the gauntlet gun’s trajectory, not her opinion of his features. She strolled up to the target and found the bullet lodged in the middle of the board. “Yes, a very good shot.”

He strode up beside her. His gait was noticeably smoother today. “The Aspasian metals practically interpret my next move. I barely have to press the switch on the cuff to release the gun, and it has improved the pin trigger response. Of course, it could be from the extra wiring in the metal vest.” He lifted the lapel of his coat and inspected it.

Amazing what he could make from just a few of her sketches. In a short time, she’d seen it go from paper to forged metal. Now the vest rested smartly beneath his jacket like an armored waistcoat.

Abigail brought her eyes to the gauntlet on his arm. “I hope the theory works just as well on prosthetic devices as it does weapons. Should we start work on a model?”

“I already have, actually. I finished it late last night.”

“Oh.” Abigail looked towards the house. “Did you use one from the display cabinet?”