Page 8 of The Doctor and the Devil
Charlotte stared dreamily after the handsome, threatening mountain of a man for long enough that I was forced to clear my throat to regain her attention.
“Sincerest apologies, Mina—you know how it is with sweet Antoine. I would suggest that perhaps my lustful attentions have been exacerbated by my werewolf turning, but frankly, I was always an avid enjoyer of bed sport so that hardly seems like a hypothesis worth investigating. Now, as I said, these baskets have more food this week because we had that horrible late snow and I’m worried about people having enough to eat. I fear the moreles Dames Dangereusestries to help, the worse the circumstances seem, don’t you? I know you’ll ensure this all gets to those who need it most. I don’t blame the poor for distrusting us aristocrats, but I daresay it makes it difficult to offer aid when they won’t take it,” she said, filling the quiet of my clinic with a stream of effusive kindness. Once she had organized the baskets on my table, she finally turned and fixed a penetrating stare on me.
“What?” I chirped, unsettled. “Why do you regard me so?”
She tilted her head at me in a way that reminded me of a curious dog, and I swallowed a nervous laugh.
“Have you given any thought to my words the other day?” she asked.
I swallowed. She had come to my clinic earlier this week and revealed she suspected my connection with the Beast of Gévaudan, or “the man in black,” as she called him. She hadn’t threatened me—rather, she wanted to help me and offered the warning that if she had worked out our historical attachment, the Order would, as well. I hadn’t admitted anything to her then, but after Rafael had turned up on my doorstep, I knew it was only a matter of time before she sniffed him out—literally.
I cleared my throat and fiddled with one of the linen cloths covering the basket of meat pies.
“Your suspicions are correct,” I said quietly.
Charlotte’s lovely face betrayed nothing, but she took my hand and guided me to the chairs that sat in front of the fireplace.
“Tell me,” she coaxed.
I sighed. “I haven’t seen him in twenty years, Charlotte—not until that evening outside Grandrieu.” Emotions tangled in my throat, making it difficult for me to continue.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“What will you tell the Order?” I inquired. “I do not want them to know. Forgive me,mon amie, but I do not trust them.”
She nodded, sadness blooming on her face. “My loyalty is to you, Wilhelmina. Do not forget, beyond being my very dear friend, you saved my life and the lives of the people I love. As such, I must warn you things within the Order have become very dire indeed. The recent religious fervor led by the bastard Derais has driven the men into a frenzy of hate against the supernatural set. Daphne, Étienne, Antoine, and I are doing what we can to help soothe tempers and keep the peace, but more and moreles Dames Dangereusesare being edged out of the conversation. Trust between us and the Order has fractured, but no one has yet made the first move. Of course I won’t say anything to them. However, I must impress upon you the gravity of their concern. You should know the Order suspects the man in black of a great number of horrific deeds. While I don’t trust the Order much these days, I’m still determining the veracity of their suspicions against him. But…if you say you have not seen him for twenty years, I would caution you to seriously consider your loyalty to someone you might not know anymore.”
I opened my mouth to say more, but at that moment the bell above my door jangled and a young woman called out for me.
“Dr. Van Helsing?”
I smiled apologetically at Charlotte and hurried into the front room of the clinic. A gaunt young woman stood in the doorway, wringing her hands nervously. She was pretty—or had been, before suffering the starvation that hollowed out her face to a mere skin-covered skull. My heart squeezed at the sight.
“You must be Jacqueline,” I began. “Your husband, Pierre, came to talk with me the other night. I expected you yesterday.”
“My apologies,” she said with a wobbly curtsy. “I was unwell.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say that might alleviate some of her anxiety.
“Please, take a seat,” I offered, gesturing at a chair along the wall. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”
She did as she was instructed, and I went to make my apologies to Charlotte, but when I entered my back room, I discovered that she’d left. On the table with the baskets of food was a small scrap of parchment with a note.
Tell me when you’re ready. I’ll be here. Be careful.
XO,
Charlotte
P.S. Come to dine this evening! You simply must help me with wedding preparations.
Guilt drifted through me like wisps of smoke from an extinguished candle. I tried to ignore the rueful wash of relief I felt at being able to keep my secrets for a little while longer, even as I sensed the sands of time slipping through the hourglass of my life.
Shaking myself back to my professional demeanor, I stuffed the note in my pocket and smoothed my hands down the soft blue wool of my skirts.
“Jacqueline,” I said, returning to the front of the clinic. “Tell me what’s been happening at home. How are you faring?”
She smiled at me for a moment, but it slipped from her face with the first tears that spilled from her eyes.
