Page 80 of The Cabinet of Dr. Leng

His flight forgotten at this assault on his person, Joe abruptly reached down, grabbed a fistful of snow, packed it, and threw it hard at Constance, missing her. He’d hurled plenty of stones in his young life, but the weight and arc of a snowball were new to him. His second snowball did better, connecting with her shoulder, but meanwhile Constance—not holding back—had already launched another missile that hit him square in the stomach. He lobbed off a third, and this one caught her in the neck, spattering her bare skin. Joe laughed despite himself as he watched her try to shake off the snow in discomfort. Binky joined in, tossing a snowball at Joe, who returned it, and soon they were all throwing snow at each other with abandon. Even Murphy, instead of hoisting himself back into his seat, joined in. Several passing carriages, filled with well-to-do couples taking the air, slowed to stare at the highly improper free-for-all among the woman, her children, and the coachman.

As suddenly as it erupted, the contest came to an end. Constance busied herself with brushing the snow from Binky’s coat and hair, careful not to take any notice of Joe, who was approaching—first with hesitation, then with a freer step. As he came up, she turned and brushed the snow from him as well, allowing herself a gentle sweep of the fingers across the face she had so recently struck in anger…with a snowball.

Then, with a brisk “up you go,” she bundled the children back into the coach and Murphy urged Rascal toward home. Binky talked almost nonstop, excited beyond description by the experience, but both Joe and Constance were content to ride in silence. Until moments before, she had forgotten the name, Half Jigger, by which her father called Joe on those occasions he misbehaved—it had surged up out of her memory unbidden. She did not know what Joe himself might be thinking, but one thing she now felt confident of: her relationship with him had rounded a corner. Though Joe might not yet fully trust her, heacceptedher…and she no longer needed to fear his running off from this, the only family he knew.

51

MARY GREENE SWAM SLOWLYback into consciousness from a dream. It was a dream that seemed to have been going on a long time, days or even weeks, one that she’d occasionally felt she was half awakening from—like a diver rising toward the water’s surface—before slipping back into what seemed like a fairy tale. In the endless dream, she was reclining in the pergola of a castle above a bay: shimmering in the summer’s light, cool breezes stirring the hanging silks. Now and then, a handsome man in white armor had appeared—no doubt a prince. And, as in most fairy tales, there were frightening creatures, too…one in particular who occasionally approached out of the mists…a misshapen figure, who she assumed was a servant. Usually when he intruded upon her dream he was carrying a silver platter of some sort or other. And now, as the veil of unconsciousness began to part, the figure returned once again, carrying his silver platter, which held something that—as the veil parted still further—revealed itself to be a bloody knife.

This image of a knife swept away more fragments of hazy dreaminess. She looked around and, to her amazement, found herself half buried in a princess bed, enclosed in the same hanging silk curtains that had been in her dream. She tried to sit up and was immediately seized by dizziness. She closed her eyes for a moment; the dizziness began to clear—and then she opened them again, content for the time being to look around. Instead of a castle pergola overlooking the sea, she found herself in a small but sumptuous room with red velvet wallpaper, paintings in gilt frames, shelves of books, a writing desk, velvet chairs, and a floor covered with a Persian carpet. Globes of cut glass on the walls cast a yellow light from the gas flames within.

Wherever could she be?

Vague recollections darted like minnows through the depths of her memory; it was all she could do to occasionally catch hold of one. There had been the workhouse, of course. And then, suddenly, the great doctor, singling her out for treatment. This had been followed by a ride in a magnificent carriage…but after that, all her memories slipped into the endless dream as the carriage continued on its way to the magic castle.

She continued looking around the room. It had two doors but no windows. Something had been troubling her, not only during the dream but even before—at the workhouse—but everything had been so rushed and she’d had no chance to tell the doctor…

Binky.Her little sister. Where was she? If she, Mary, was here in this strange magical room, how was Binky getting enough to eat?

She tried again to sit up, intending to get out of bed, only to find herself overwhelmed once again by dizziness and—instead of rising—half collapsed on the side of the bed with a cry of confusion.

A moment later, one of the doors opened. She saw a slender man standing in it, backlit by a bright light. This must be the prince of her dreams, because he was dressed in white—but, rather than white mail, it was the coat of a doctor. He paused a moment at the threshold, then stepped into the dim light of the room. Now she recognized the keen, aquiline face, the deep-set eyes, the wet red lips, the pale-blond hair combed back—and the small, oval, gold-rimmed glasses. He was not as handsome as the prince of her dreams, but he was elegant, and neat, and now she managed to remember his name: Dr. Leng, who had taken her from the Five Points House of Industry. But when had that been? Everything was in such confusion.

“Ah, Mary, I’m so glad to see you’re awake,” said the doctor in a gentle voice, stepping into the room and coming over to her bedside. “You’ve been rather ill these past few weeks, but luckily with the resources of my private clinic, you’re over the worst of it now and well on the road to recovery. You’ve been sedated, though, and I expect you’re a trifle confused.”

Mary nodded mutely.

“Of course you are. Please do not discompose yourself. You’re safe here in my house, and you’ll continue to be well taken care of. I got you out of that workhouse just in time. I don’t want to frighten you while you’re still on the mend, but given your illness, you would not have fared well had you remained there—not fared well at all.”

He held out his hand and grasped hers, then gently raised her up and helped her sit back on the bed.

“But…” Mary stopped, trying to focus her thoughts. “But what about my little sister, Constance? Who’s looking after her?”

At this, Leng tilted his head. “Ah. A sister?”

“Yes, yes. Our parents are dead, she was living in the streets. I gave her food through the window of the workhouse.”

“I see.”

“And Joe, my brother.” She sobbed at this additional, sudden, unexpected recollection. “He’s on Blackwell’s Island.”

“A brother, too? Dear me.”

She tightened her grip on his gloved hands. “Oh, Doctor—can you help them?”

He returned her tearful look with a kindly gaze. “OfcourseI can help them. I’m so sorry to hear about this. I didn’t realize, when I took you from the workhouse, that you had any family at all.”

“I’m so worried. How…?” She tried to organize her thoughts once more, but the confusion and fog just made her feel weary all over again.

“How long have you been ill? I don’t know when exactly you first contracted it, but you’ve been under my care now for—oh, almost a month.”

“That long? Oh! Constance is only nine years old and…and it’s wintertime!”

He released her hands, only to pat them again comfortingly. “I’ll find her. You have my word. Of course, you’ll have to tell me all about her: where she lives or hides, what she looks like, and that sort of thing. As for—Joe, was it?—I have some acquaintances at Blackwell’s; I can certainly find out how he’s faring, and perhaps manage to do something for him as well.”

“Oh, thank you,thankyou!” She tried to grasp his hand again, as a drowning person might, but even as she did she felt her strength giving way.

He rose. “I will have Munck, my manservant, bring you something to eat and drink. Do not be alarmed—nature was unkind when forming his appearance, but he is an excellent nurse and as obedient as a puppy. But please remember, Mary: you’ve had a close call, and we have to be careful. For the time being, you’ll have to stay here until you recover a little more of your strength.” He strolled to the door and turned. “I’m so glad to see you better, my dear, and I shall undertake a search for your siblings forthwith.”

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