“He’s my alienist friend, Theresa. I told him all about you and he said he might be able to ease your depression.”
“An alienist?” Theresa’s voice had grown sharp. “You brought him here to treat me? But I don't need an alienist. I'm not insane. You didn't imply that I was insane, did you?”
“Of course you are not insane, Mrs. Flynn.” The doctor said, pausing to take a sip of tea, then wipe his mustache. “Anyone can see that. But depression is also a disease of the mind and can be cured. I told your sister of my work in Vienna with Dr. Freud.”
“Dr. Freud is doing wonderful things, Theresa,” Belinda said. “He has learned to analyze dreams and he can tell you what’s troubling you through your dreams.”
“I know what’s a troubling me,” Theresa said. “I grieve for my child. I don't need an alienist for that.”
“But we have made great advances recently, Mrs. Flynn,” Dr. Bimbaum said. “If you let me treat you, I can help you to let go of these terrible memories. Dr. Freud has worked very successfully with hypnotism and I studied under him for two years. You would be amazed at the cures he brings about. A girl who had not spoken for years is restored to sanity and health. It’s like a miracle.”
Belinda leaned across to her sister and placed her hand delicately on Theresa’s arm. “You do want to feel better, don't you, Tessa dear? To be able to enjoy life again? To look forward to the future? If this man can make your black cloud go away, why don't you give him a try?”
“It would be wonderful to enjoy life again, I agree,” Theresa said, “but he will have to treat me here. I am not going to be put in any institution.”
“There’s no question of an institution of any kind, Mrs. Flynn,” Dr. Bimbaum said. “I may want to hypnotize you, with your permission, but other than that, we will just have little chats together. You will treat me like an old and trusted friend.”
“Very well,” Theresa said. “You seem to have come at an oppor-tune moment, Dr. Bimbaum. I just lost my spiritualist friends who contacted my dead son for me. Maybe you have been sent to take their place.”
“I'm sure I can guide you to the road to recovery, Mrs. Flynn,” the doctor said. He accepted an eclair from the plate offered him by Alice, patting neatly at the sides of his mouth after each bite.
I watched him with interest. Until this week I hadn't heard of alienists. I hadn't even realized that diseases of the mind could be treated, apart from locking up lunatics in asylums. I hoped I'd have a chance to watch Dr. Bimbaum at work, if ever I recovered from this disease. In truth I was feeling dizzy and nauseous just from sitting propped up and after a short while I had to ask the footman to get me back to bed.
“Poor Molly, she doesn't seem to be getting better, does she?” I heard Theresa’s voice float up from the veranda below. “I do hope Dr. Chambers was right and it’s not more serious than we thought.”
“I remember one of the Butler cousins contracted a similar ailment,” I heard Clara, loud and clear. “Nobody could do a thing for her. She just wasted away before our eyes.”
“How terrible. What do you think we should do for Molly?”
“If she really is dying, maybe she would want to go home to the bosom of her family,” Qara suggested.
“Don't say that word, Clara. I couldn't bear to think of it,” Theresa said.
“Of course Molly’s not dying. You do dramatize everything, Cousin Clara,” Belinda said. “You know how common food poisoning is in summer. She ate something that had gone off, that’s all. Shell be right as rain in a few days.”
“If she’s not, I'm going to have Bamey bring out a specialist from the city,” Theresa said.
“Just in case you should perhaps write to her family,” Clara suggested. “Better to prepare them for the worst.”
I lay there agonizing over this. I would certainly have to get better before a letter had time to reach Ireland. I wasn't intending to die, either! I was feeling so weak after two nights of retching and my excursion down to the veranda that I fell asleep before it was dark and didn't stir until morning. I awoke on Friday morning feeling much better. I washed, dressed and came downstairs to find another mood of high drama.
Theresa and Bamey were facing each other in the hallway.
“Honestly, Theresa, I have never heard anything more ridiculous,” Bamey was saying. “I agree that an alienist might be able to help you, but what do we know about this fellow? He could be some wandering quack that Belinda bumped into on her travels for all we know. Where are his credentials? And as for hypnotism— that is surely the stuff of fairgrounds and not medicine.”
“Dr. Bimbaum says it has produced some miraculous cures. It brings out hidden fears and worries.”
In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)
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