Papa leant back in his chair. "He wasn't the easiest of men. Hardly surprising—he'd lost his wife and his beloved only son. Luckily, he seemed to like me. And"—he smiled mischievously—"your mamma was pleased I came to help him."
This part of the story I did know. Mamma was old when Papa arrived, nearly thirty. She must have been very glad to see him. When I was little, I'd imagined Papa breaking into the house like the prince come to rescue the princess. He arrived on white charger and wore a dark green velvet cloak. My imagination had failed when I tried to picture Mamma as the princess...
Now it was something else that interested me. "What was it like working with Grandpapa?"
"By the time I joined the practice, he was ready to retire, so he was mostly happy to let me do things my way." Papa laughed. "We did have one or two fallings out—mainly over the wealthy women who fancied themselves ill when there was nothing wrong with them. I didn't have the time or patience to attend to them. They soon found themselves other doctors."
I laughed too. I could just imagine it.
Papa went on, "Your grandfather forgave me eventually. And he was delighted when we had our Tom. He had expected his son to be a doctor so he was glad he had a grandson to carry on the family tradition."
"Is that why he left Tom a legacy for medical training?" I couldn't help the note of jealousy creeping into my voice.
But Papa didn't seem to notice. "Yes, I'm sure."
It was becoming clearer to me why Mamma always favoured Tom. It made sense but it still wasn't right.
Papa's expression was serious now. "I want you to realise that, until she had Tom, poor Mamma had a difficult life with Grandpapa. I think she felt that, being a girl, whatever she did, she would always be a disappointment to him, that she could never make up for the loss of her brother. And your grandpapa had very rigid ideas about girls' behaviour."
I could see what Papa was implying, that Mamma couldn't help treating me the way she did. But it still didn't seem fair. Just because Grandpapa had given Mamma a hard time, I didn't see why I had to suffer.
Papa said, "Try to see it from her point of view. She's doing her best."
I gave him a pleading look. "I can see that. But I still don't understand why I have to go visiting. I don't have to, do I? I'll tell Mamma I'm sorry, but I need to study. She can't make me go, can she?"
He shook his head. "No, she can't make you. But I'm asking you to do it."
I stared at him. "But—"
"No, listen, Lou. You have plenty of time in your day for study. And Mamma's right: it's not good for you to work too hard. It only means giving up an hour or so to please her. And it's not even every day. That's not much to ask, is it?"
I looked at his tired face. "No, Papa."
He smiled. "Good. And as for going out with me on my calls, we'll see. It might be possible for you to assist me when it's appropriate."
"Appropriate? Oh, Papa, you don't think it's improper for a woman to practise medicine, do you?" I couldn't believe that he did but I wanted to make sure.
Papa laughed. "I think you are too young for some aspects of the work. And I am certain that some of my patients would think it inappropriate to have you present. But in other cases, you could be of great assistance, certainly handier than Tom, at times."
I was thrilled. But Papa was taking off his spectacles and rubbing his eyes. He looked pale, drained. Suddenly I felt anxious. "Are you feeling all right, Papa?"
"Yes. I have a headache, that's all. Now, are you going to speak to your mother?"
"Yes, Papa." I stood up and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry to worry you. I'll try to do better."
He patted my hand. "I know you will."
We haven't been out today: rain has been falling continuously. Looking out of the window at the end of the gallery, all I can see are dark clouds and bare trees whipped by the wind, patches of wet leaves on the muddy ground. It's so gloomy the gas jets have been lit already.
Since Dr. Bull's visit this morning, I've been waiting for the summons from Mr. Sneed. It hasn't come. Gradually during the endless afternoon, my optimism has evaporated. I feel an ache inside.
Normally at home Mary would be drawing the curtains now and pouring the tea. I wonder what they're doing today. They must know by now that I never arrived at the Woodvilles. Will they have informed the police?
I hope Mamma is blaming herself for sending me away.
Eliza emerges from the day room. "All right, Miss?"
I want to trust her but I don't know if I can.
"Has there been any message for me from Mr. Sneed?"
"No, Miss." She pulls a face. "Sorry."
I can't wait any longer. If Eliza will post the letter for me today, I could be free by the day after tomorrow at the latest—that won't be so bad.
I go in search of Weeks. She's not in any of the dormitories or the washroom.