Page 32 of A Lullaby for Witches

No matter how much I wheedled and begged her to tell me of my origins, Phebe had remained resolute that it must be my parents who shared this secret with me. But I could not simply ask them, especially not now they were already so on edge around me. It was not just my pride, but my suspicion that if there was truly something amiss with me, that they would not give me a true answer. Henry might have thought that he had laid my doubts to rest, but he had only strengthened the idea that there was something no one was telling me.

There must have been someone who knew me as a child besides Phebe. But when I thought back to my early days, my memories were few and vague. I had been a solitary child, with only my older brothers for playmates. Had a midwife or physician attended my birth? Was there record of my baptism in the church?

Since I could not ask my parents, and Henry would not relent, I decided to find my own answers. On a gray, chilly autumn day, I donned my coat and boots, and paid a visit to old Dr. Hardy, our family physician.

Dr. Hardy practiced medicine in an office above his home on Main Street. A harried servant admitted me into the building, and I swept upstairs, ignoring his plea for me to wait in the parlor.

Ensconced in a velvet dressing gown, Dr. Hardy was hunched over his desk, engrossed in reading through a looking glass. “You must have an appointment,” he said, without looking up from his papers. “I cannot see patients without one.” Pausing from his reading, he spared me a glance. “If you are in some sort of trouble, then I regret to inform you that I do not perform such procedures.”

Ignoring him, I seated myself on the wooden examination bench opposite his desk, arranging the folds of my skirt. “I am not in trouble,” I said. Of course, this was not strictly true, but he did not need to know of my situation inthatregard. “I have come to ask you some questions about your service to my family.”

“You still need an appointment. I’m a busy man and I can’t see every person who comes in off the street to—”

“But you will see me,” I interrupted him. “Because I know what transpired between your wife’s sister and yourself.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Whips and chains,” I said. “I really would not have imagined you possessed such proclivities by looking at you, Doctor.”

The color drained from his face, his little gray mustache falling. “How—how did you—”

“Never mind how. Now,” I said briskly, “I would like some answers to my questions. I believe that you have been my family’s physician for at least twenty years, is that correct?”

“That is correct,” he said stiffly.

“And you attended my mother through all of her pregnancies? Delivered all her children?”

At this, he shifted uncomfortably in his leather chair. “Delivered the three oldest, yes.”

My body went very still, the tension in the room heightened, pressing in around me. I proceeded cautiously. “So you didn’t attend my birth?”

“I just said that I did not.”

“You attended the births of all of my brothers,” I pressed. “Why did you not attend mine?”

“I cannot remember,” he said testily, “but there are a hundred reasons I might not have. Your mother might have employed another physician. I might have been away or otherwise occupied. It’s all beside the fact, though it is hardly appropriate for you to barge into my office with all these questions.” Color was returning to his face. “Spread your rumors all you like, but it is your word against mine, and after your episode with Mrs. Hough, I assure you that it is mine that will be believed.”

Oh, but he thought he was clever. I should have left well enough alone, but I have never been one to turn the other cheek. “So, you have heard about Mrs. Hough and what I told her, then? Perhaps you had even seen the girl for yourself before and deemed her case to be hopeless. Many women come to me after they see you, and I help them in ways that you will not.”

I had his attention. Throwing down his spectacles, he leaned back in his chair with an impatient huff. “You fancy yourself a wise woman, but it is clear that you are simply an unnatural young woman who thrives on chaos and attention.”

Brushing aside his accusations, I perched on the corner of his desk, as familiar as a house cat. “Some of the rumors are exaggerations, I will own that. But there is a seed of truth to even the most unruly vine of gossip. I would hate to have to demonstrate my power.”

In truth, there was little that I could do to him. But I knew a few tricks, and that was all I needed. With a click of my fingers, I summoned a flame to life from the cold wick of his desk lamp. Another click, and I extinguished it again.

Dr. Hardy’s eyes went wide and he shrank back into his chair. “Wh-what do you want?”

“I want the truth. Tell me what you know of my birth.”

“And then you will leave?”

I held my hand to my breast in a pledge. “And then I will leave. You have my word.”

He swallowed. “Your...your mother was confined and it was deemed unnecessary by your father for me to attend to her. I never saw your mother, either in her confinement nor immediately after your birth. Your father assured me that I was not needed, and that all had gone smoothly.”

“But you saw my mother during her previous pregnancies?” I prodded.

“Yes, it was only yours. And it was strange, because...” He trailed off, his cheeks coloring as he darted me a worried look.

“What was strange?”

“She never appeared to be...that is, she never looked pregnant. I wasn’t aware of her condition until I was informed that she’d entered her confinement in her last weeks.”

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