Page 46 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
It was a glaring confrontation, staring down at him like the judge up on his high seat, screaming at him:What are you going to do?
“How can I live like this?” Dr. Fowler rubbed his hands over his face, sweating from the anxiety that welled up in his chest.I am not a murderer! I am a doctor!screamed the voice of the angel on one shoulder.You are a degenerate gambler and a doxy mongrel!screamed the little devil on his other.
“Oh, what can I do?” he uttered beneath his breath, sitting back into his comfortable sitting room station.
“What was that dear?” his wife's voice floated in from another room, breaking the silent staleness of the well-furnished house.
“Nothing, nothing at all.” he abruptly sat up, calling back into the empty hallway.
“Well come on, Francis, supper's ready.” her voice was drawing closer, and he flicked his eyes nervously between the doorway and the letter which he still kept clutched in his palm.
“Did you hear me?” She poked her head around the side of the door frame, and Francis shoved the note hastily into his pocket.
“Yes, of course dear, I'm along.” He smiled up at her, getting hastily to his feet. The ruffled edges of the paper seemed to dig into his leg like dull knives, unrelentingly reminding him of their presence.
“Alright.” She smiled as she turned away. Francis felt overcome with strangeness. He loved her and wished only to walk down the hall with her to the assuredly finely-garnished table.
Yet he could not simply stroll into the dining hall carrying this anchor in his pocket, not while it betrayed his very soul. How could he sit by for another mindless conversation, while within all he would hear was the bickering of his two halves?
An excuse to leave dinner was the easy thing, that he managed just fine all the time. He was a practicing doctor, after all, and any number of things could be said to excuse him from any sort of occasion.
But that night, nothing came into his mind. He could not face her, knowing that all of this could be so easily undone.
Instead he left a simple note on the sitting room table.Sudden house call to the country.Then he gathered up his medical bag, threw on his hat, and went out into London.
After jaunting across town in a hired coach, he made accommodations at a confidential boarding house. Francis ate, but could hardly enjoy a meal of roasted pheasant, for which he paid too much.
Francis withdrew to his room in silence, and he quickly locked the door behind him. On the bare table he set out his medical bag, and he collapsed heavily onto the mattress.
Francis scrutinized the black leather bag. He knew full well what was inside. Among an assortment of instruments, such as tweezers, scalpels, hammers, and prodding implements, there were a variety of chemicals.
The bag held everything that Francis could ever need to carry out his task. He knew what to mix in which quantities; he knew where to cut a human body.
Confronted by this knowledge and impending confrontation, Francis was immobile, glued to his seat on the bed, staring forever ahead at the black depths of his medical bag.
“Bloody hell.” He shook his head, taking a moment to clean his forehead sweat from his lenses.
Francis took in a deep breath, and he thought once more of his wife gently poking her head into the room, calling him to the table. He thought of the house they had built together, and the spider web of families that would be affected by his misdeeds.I have no choice.
Francis stood abruptly and crossed to his bag, clicking it open with precision. He was now focused and determined; his choice had been made.
From the bag he took various chemicals and tinctures and began to stir his foul concoction.
* * *
Leah was, as she always was of late, in bed. The day lingered on outside the windows and she feared that she would lose the entire summer weather to Nash's thugs.
Even still as she could feel herself healing, she would find a new reason to wince for pain as she attempted to move in a new direction.
Christ, they worked me over pretty fair. She gingerly touched her lower ribs as she sat up further.Good for you, Nash, finding yourself some proper tough tossers.
“Miss Benson?” she could hear Mrs. Redford's kind voice at the door.
“Come in, Mrs. Redford.” Leah called back, thrilled to have another human interaction. It seemed to her like when she was not the center of the Duke's attention, she was largely forgotten about in this tall room by the rest of the house's occupants.
“How are we doing today, dear?” Mrs. Redford was looking as jolly as ever. She carried a new basin of fresh water.
“I am the same as I was yesterday.” Leah griped. “Although I have seen some new birds today that caught my eye.”
