Alex Grecian - The Yard

“I’m so sorry, Walter. I don’t know what happened to me.”

He went to her and took her hand. It was cold, and when he gently squeezed her fingers, she didn’t squeeze back.

“It’s all right. You’re going to be just fine.”

“Of course I will be, dear. Don’t trouble yourself over me.”

Kingsley had been quiet and Day didn’t realize that he had followed him into the room until he spoke.

“What is all this?” Kingsley said.

“I’m going to cup her to try to reduce the fever,” Mrs Dick’s doctor said.

Kingsley looked aghast. “You’ll do no such thing,” he said.

“Will it help?” Day said.

“Cupping will not help anyone with anything,” Kingsley said.

Day glanced at the jars on the vanity. He had seen people cupped before. It was a more drastic treatment than leeches. Incisions were made in the patient’s flesh, and heated cups or jars were placed over the fresh wounds. As the glass containers cooled, blood was naturally drawn up into them. Pints of blood could be quickly extracted from points all over the body.

“It’s barbaric,” Kingsley said. “A relic of the past. There’s no place for such mumbo jumbo in this modern age.”

“It’s hardly mumbo jumbo, sir. I’ll ask you to keep your lay opinions to yourself and leave me to my work.”

“My opinions are not lay opinions. They are not even opinions. They are fact.”

“Unless you are a doctor, sir-”

“I am,” Kingsley said. “What is your name?”

“Entwhistle. Dr Herbert Entwhistle.”

“I’ve never heard of you. You don’t practice at either of the hospitals where I teach.”

“I’m in private practice. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“It is my business now. Tell me you haven’t begun to cut this woman up.”

Entwhistle pulled back his shoulders and thrust out his chest. He looked from Kingsley to Day and back to Kingsley, clearly not accustomed to being confronted.

“No, I haven’t begun making the incisions yet,” he said.

“Good,” Kingsley said. “Inspector Day and his wife were just about to employ me as their family physician.”

He looked at Day, who nodded.

“That’s done, then,” Kingsley said. “And now that I’m in charge here, I’ll ask you to leave.”

“Well, I never!” Entwhistle said.

“Then it’s about time you did,” Kingsley said. “Out you go.”

He made a shooshing motion, and Entwhistle left the room protesting.

“I’m afraid you’ll need to go, too, Detective. Your wife will want her privacy.”

“I’ll be just outside that door,” Day said.

“I’m sure that will be a comfort to her.”

Day smiled at Claire and patted her hand. “Don’t you worry. Kingsley’s a very good doctor.”

“I’m not worried, Walter. Don’t you be worried, either.”

“I have complete faith in you both.”

He gave one last look to his wife as he left the room and Kingsley closed the door after him. Day was left in the hall with Entwhistle and Mrs Dick, who shot baleful stares in his direction but said nothing. A moment later, the door opened again and Kingsley thrust an armful of jars and candles at Entwhistle.

“Take these antiques with you,” Kingsley said. He closed the door again.

Entwhistle narrowed his eyes at Day. “You’ll regret this,” he said. “Don’t beg me to come back here if that quack makes her worse.”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

“You’re a fool, Mr Day,” Mrs Dick said. “Dr Entwhistle has been my physician for more years than I can count. He’s brilliant, he is.”

“And yet he’s been unable to cure your sour disposition.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Do you imagine that my wife and I never talk? That she hasn’t told me about your attitude toward her? You’re meant to be helping her about the house, not belittling her at every turn.”

“Your wife is a foolish, spoiled child and it’s about time someone put her in her place.”

“You may leave with Dr Entwhistle. We won’t be requiring your services any longer.”

“You can’t discharge me from my duties. Only the missus can do that.”

“At this moment, Mrs Dick, you do not want to argue with me. Leave my home and never come back here again.”

She opened her mouth to say something more, but saw the look on his face and checked herself. She turned on her heel and marched down the stairs. Dr Entwhistle shook his head and followed after her without another glance at Day.

Day heard one of the glass jars fall from the doctor’s arms and tumble down the stairs, but he didn’t hear it break. A moment later, the front door opened and slammed shut. Day leaned against the wall next to his wife’s bedroom door and listened to the rainfall against the roof. He had no idea how long it might be before Kingsley finished with Claire.

As it turned out, he didn’t have long to wait. The door opened after a few minutes and Kingsley stepped into the hall, wiping his hands on a white towel. He patted Day on the shoulder and smiled. There was a twinkle in his eye.

“I have some rather good news for you, Detective. Your wife isn’t gravely ill at all. She’s with child.”

“She isn’t.”

“She is.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am nearly always serious. She’s pregnant.”

“And that’s made her sick?”

“Yes, a bit. But her situation has been compounded by that damned girdle she wears. She’ll need some bed rest and she’ll need to stop wearing girdles for the duration of the pregnancy, as they can only complicate matters for both her and the baby.”

“She’s really going to have a baby?”

“She really is. You both are, but she’ll be doing most of the work.”

A wave of relief washed over Day. He grabbed Kingsley’s hand and pumped it up and down.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Well, I couldn’t leave you at the mercy of that Entwhistle creature. Cupping, indeed! He would have killed her!”

Day stepped back and swallowed hard. He slumped against the wall.

“But I’ve only just realized,” he said. “We can’t have a baby here. I’ve let the housekeeper go. Not half an hour ago. We’ve nobody to help with a baby.”

“You needn’t worry about that yet. You have a few months to figure it out.” He paused and pursed his lips as if a thought had just occurred to him. “In fact,” Kingsley said, “I may know a young woman who would be glad to help with a baby. She’s only fourteen, but that’s old enough, I think.”

Day smiled. “Send her round, then,” he said. “But I’d like to see my wife now, if I may.”

“Oh, of course.”

Kingsley stepped aside and Day rushed into the room. Claire held out her arms and Day went to her.

“Can you believe it?” Claire said.

“I’ve scarcely had time to think about it yet.”

“Nor I.”

“All I can think of is my happiness now that you’re all right.”

“I have to stop wearing my corsets.”

“That’s what the doctor tells me.”

“I’ll be fat and ugly.”

“You will never be any such thing,” Day said. “You will always be the most beautiful woman in London.”

And he meant it.

LONDON, FIVE HOURS AFTER MR LITTLE’S FUNERAL.

They stood in Trafalgar Square in a light drizzle. Henry Mayhew, the dancing man, was not dancing. He was watching a rainbow formed by the hazy light of the lamppost. Next to him, Walter Day moved from foot to foot, nervous. He’d been anxious since he’d found out that he and Claire were expecting a baby. He still wasn’t sure about London. Devon might be a better place to raise a child. But Walter had caught a killer, and he no longer questioned his place in the city. He was a detective and he was helping to make London safe.