Marys's Desire E-Book

Dama Beltrán

• Herausgeber: Ediciones Beltrán Limited Company
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

The only wish Mary has had since childhood is to become a doctor as respected as her father. For her, it’s absurd to live in a society that doesn’t consider women as efficient as men or the opinion that medical professionals have about her absurd purpose. Mary is confident in her intelligence and rationality to face these obstacles. She is an authentic Moore, she is convinced that, unlike her sisters, there’s not a single drop of gypsy blood in her body. Her mind is capable of controlling the passions that come with her mother's name..., but everything changes when she meets Lord Giesler.

«When an Arany woman sees the man Morgana has chosen for her for the first time, who she was and what she desired disappears...», her mother had said on many occasions.

Reason or passion? What option will the second daughter choose?

Leseprobe

© Mary’s Desire

© Dama Beltrán

English Edition: D.B

© Cover images: Adobe Stock.

Book layout: Paola C. Álvarez.

All rights reserved

All total or partial reproduction, informatic treatment, and distribution by photocopied, electronic, mechanic, or any other means of this work is strictly prohibited without written consent from the copyright owner. However, it won’t be granted because I spent a lot of hours and lost several family gatherings as I wrote this.

Prologue

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Epilogue

Next Book

Acknowledgements

Author’s note

Other books

Dear reader, I present to you the second novel in the Moore Sisters saga, the story of Mary Moore and Philip Giesler. As I always say, everything you find on these pages is a figment of my imagination.

I hope you enjoy it...

Sincerely, Dama Beltrán

To my sister-in-law, Mary.

"It's not your kisses, nor your caresses, nor your I love you... What conquers my soul is your smile."

Paz Fernández 05/08/2019

Prologue

London, October 28th, 1882. Moore Residence.

Sophia watched through the window as the carriage in which her husband was within drove away from home.

She should be used to Randall leaving in the middle of the night, but at that moment she would have given everything she had to stop him from leaving her side. She hugged herself and tried to quell the shiver that ran through her thanks to the lonely feeling. The home was silent; too silent for her liking. Ever since her daughters had been born, there had always been noises around the house or scurrying in the hallways. However, since three of them had left, it didn't feel like a home but like one of the libraries Mary used to visit.

She fixed her eyes on the fireplace, now extinguished, and sighed deeply. How were they doing? Was the viscount treating them with the respect they deserved? She hoped that would be the case and that the three of them were behaving appropriately. The only thing she couldn’t bear would be that, after the longing she suffered at not being able to be with them, they returned with endless scandals chasing them.

Sophia looked at the chairs around the dining table and noticed how her grief increased as she observed them empty. On nights like this, Anne and Josephine would leave their bedchambers and come down to join her. They would chat about anything until dawn and, when the rest of her daughters arrived, they would have breakfast talking about what they had planned to do for the rest of the day.

Sophia leaned her back against the window and sighed. She missed yelling at Josephine for punching holes in another window or breaking Randall's valuable vases. She missed ordering Elizabeth to change her inappropriate behavior, and going into Anne's painting room to admire her new work. How many times had she begged for a few hours of peace? Hundreds! Now, however, she didn’t want them, instead spending them thinking about them.

Would the little soldier adapt to a life full of feminine protocols or perhaps the viscount would allow her to continue with her usual masculine behaviors? Would she obey Randall's instructions? If so, she feared Josephine would sleep and bathe with the new weapon he had bought her. She only hoped that the viscount would stay away from Anne so he wouldn’t allow Josephine to abide by the orders her father dictated.

What about Elizabeth? Would she act appropriately or would she continue to act shamelessly?

What about Anne, would she continue to dream of him? Would she fall in love with that man?

All were questions and to her despair, she could not find a single answer. Sophia would only find them when they returned, and that was just over three weeks away.

A pang in her stomach made her clench her hands over that area of her body. She still wasn't sure if she had done the right thing. Maybe she should have found a way to break the pact with the viscount and not give up so quickly. But... what else could she do?

Nothing, because Anne's dreams had warned her that she couldn’t prevent what had already been foretold.

Nevertheless, doubt about the choice made by the fire assailed Sophia every moment. How could the viscount be the man destined for Anne? Why was Morgana showing her that he was the chosen one? Jovenka's curse was very clear: tainted blood would become pure again. What kind of purity did she mean? Had Sophia misunderstood the oath? No, she hadn't, because both of her daughter's suitors had died, just as her grandmother had pronounced. So... why would the viscount, a man of blue blood, destroy the curse her daughter had carried since birth? What was the Bennet family hiding? What had happened to them?

At that instant, Sophia remembered a news item stating that the marquess, seventeen years after his birth, had recognized a young man as his legitimate son. According to the newspaper, he had been stolen as soon as he was born and they had not reported his disappearance so as not to create a social scandal.

How could they keep such an atrocity a secret? Was the aristocracy so frivolous? How was the marchioness capable of enduring such cruel pain? Sophia frowned and sighed deeply. No mother would accept such a situation unless it wasn’t her child. Perhaps that was the real reason, and not the kidnapping. It was more logical to deduce that the late Marquess of Riderland, who was known to have been a libertine, had an affair with a woman, perhaps a Romani, and from that affair the viscount was born. When the woman announced to her lover that she’d had his son, he would be rejected by his father, like all the bastards conceived by her grandmother Jovenka, and the little one would live with his mother during those seventeen years.

So what made them change their minds? Had the accident suffered by the wife of their only living son urged them to finally recognize him? That would be a feasible deduction; the aristocracy was incapable of letting go of the noble title it had held for generations. Perhaps that was the reason why the late marquess decided to assume paternity. Although there was still an unresolved question...why did the marchioness, whom everyone described as a frivolous woman, accept her husband's decision? Did she feel obliged to do so? Did she want to avoid social humiliation? Whatever happened between the Bennett didn’t matter; the only thing Sophia had to worry about was why Morgana had provoked a rapprochement between the viscount and Anne.

She decided to return to her room. She could still enjoy a few hours of sleep before Madeleine and Mary decided to rise. Besides, that very morning Sophia had planned to visit Vianey, the Baroness of Swatton, to tell her in person about her daughters' trip with the viscount. If she wanted to avoid any inappropriate rumors for her family, the baroness was the ideal person: she would understand her better than anyone else and would help her safeguard her daughters' honor because, if they started gossiping about her girls' honor, even if the viscount broke the curse, no decent man would show up at her home to court any of them.

The thought of seeing them married made Sophia smile. What husband would be suitable for the intrepid Joe? Who could live with a woman like Mary? Would any gentleman be able to erase Elizabeth's pride? And what about Madeleine? According to her vision, she too would find the man who would love her so much that he would make her excessive shyness disappear. How would she do it? Who would it be? Did they really exist? She was absolutely sure about one thing: her daughters were very special and wouldn’t accept just anyone.

Sophia placed her left hand on the wooden banister and walked to the first step and held her breath when she heard strong noises coming from the front door. Quickly, she walked back to the entrance and stood there in silence to be sure that she heard properly.

Someone had arrived at her residence and was knocking at the door.

Sophia examined herself. She wasn’t dressed adequately to accept visitors at such hours. Besides, if they had decided to visit her home to look for her husband, she couldn’t help, since he wouldn’t come back until the next day. Although the person outside knocked again, Sophia decided to ignore it. If it was that urgent, they could visit Doctor Foster. She looked at the top of the stair and sighed. As much as she wanted to, a strange feeling stopped her from moving and insisted on receiving the visitors. But... why? Who could it be?

I

"Is somebody in there?" a feminine voice asked. "I can see light through the windows. Please, I need help. I’m Mrs. Reform and I’m looking for Doctor Moore," she insisted.

Upon hearing the woman’s voice, Sophia turned around and walked until she stood behind the door, but didn’t open until she confirmed that it wasn’t a hoax to enter the residence and rob her. How many times had her own people acted so at night? Hundreds! They patiently waited until a wealthy man’s home was left unprotected to rob it—her own grandmother had acted in those robberies.

"The doctor is not here at the moment, he’s gone out on an emergency," Sophia responded cautiously.

"Do you know when he’ll come back? I came here because one of my siblings needs medical care and as far as I know Dr. Moore is the best doctor in London," Valeria insisted, looking at the door without taking a step back.

She was unwilling to leave without someone who could help her. Philip had never been so ill, nor bedridden for more than a day. That indicated his convalescence had nothing to do with a sovereign consumption of alcohol. For the first time in his life, he actually was ill.

"Tomorrow. Maybe you’ll find him at noon..." Sophia responded, considering the voice the woman used to talk to her. She seemed desperate, uneasy, and sincere. But...could that be enough to trust her?

"I beg you. My brother is truly ill and I don’t know where to turn," Mrs. Reform insisted. "Can you ask if Mrs. Moore can receive me?"

"I am Mrs. Moore," she revealed, "and I assure you that I’ll let my husband know you’ve come. If you would be so kind to tell me who is the patient and where they live, I assure you that he’ll be there as soon as possible," Sophia suggested.

"His residence is Clayton House, in Mount Row. His name is Philip Giesler," Valeria shared after a long sigh.

Upon hearing that name, Sophia opened her eyes wide and held her breath. Could it be the same person who had accompanied the viscount a few days back? The one who was assaulted by her daughters? How many Philip Gieslers could live in London? Why, with so many doctors in the city, was that woman standing at her door?

"Why have you chosen my husband if there are other doctors that can help you?" Sophia asked, wondering if Giesler himself was the one who had sent his sister to find the doctor, for payment for all the suffering caused by her daughter’s misbehavior.

"Can you open the door? I don’t want to keep screaming, please. Besides, your neighbors could look out the windows and see we are having a discussion," Valeria explained calmly.

"Mrs. Reform, I don’t look presentable. As you can understand, I wasn’t waiting for anyone and..."

"I’m alone, Mrs. Moore. There are no men around me and the coachman is still with the carriage," she informed her. "I only want your help. You know all the doctors in this city and if I explain the symptoms my brother is suffering from, you could perhaps indicate to me which doctor is the most adequate to cure him as soon as possible?" she asked. "I beg for your mercy. I promise that if you help me, I’ll be eternally grateful and..."

Valeria went silent when she heard Mrs. Moore unlocking the door. Maybe there was hope. Maybe she could understand the reason why Philip, in the middle of his delusion, wouldn’t stop calling for a female name and the doctor’s surname.

"Come in, let’s talk inside," Sophia invited her when she saw the woman’s face showed the same anguish that her voice expressed.

Valeria accepted the invitation and entered the home, but didn’t move from the hall, even if the doctor’s wife extended her arm to the corridor after closing the door. She was eager to return. If Doctor Moore couldn’t attend to her brother, she urgently needed to find someone who would, and that would delay her return for too long. "Mrs. Moore, please, who do you think I can turn to?"

"Is it that bad?" Sophia looked at her with concern. Perhaps she had misunderstood when she heard the kinship that linked her to Lord Giesler, for the two were very different. Whereas the gentleman sported a shock of hair as blond as the sun's rays, the woman's was as dark as her own—not to mention her eye color. There was nothing that could resemble them.

Was she lying to her? Could she actually be a really desperate lover?

"Yes," Valeria answered, clasping her hands tightly together. "He's been in bed for several days. At first, I thought his last outing ended worse than I expected. You know what I mean... A single man, with no family responsibilities, a freedom-lover... But when the servants informed me of the situation and I went to scold him, as a worried sister would do, I discovered it wasn’t a matter of severe drunkenness; he was really sick."

"As I have already told you, my husband won’t be back until noon tomorrow. All I can advise you to do is to go to Dr. Foster. I am sure you will find him at home, for he never attends an emergency except at the request of the nobility," Sophia suggested an alternative.

"But my brother doesn’t want him. He gave me your name," Mrs. Reform revealed.

"My name?" Sophia wondered.

"Well, your husband's. When his fever rises so high that he becomes delirious, he murmurs your husband's surname. That's why I'm here. I think he wants your husband to visit him."

Valeria couldn't tell the woman the truth because it was incomprehensible, even for her. When Philip was delirious, the only words which came out of his mouth were Mary and Moore. Understandably, she had inquired about it. Finally, after several hours of asking acquaintances, she discovered it was the surname of a London doctor who lived in the outskirts of the city; that he was the father of five girls; and that one of them was named Mary. Valeria then deduced that his unconsciousness had confused him because he must have muttered the name Randall Moore instead of referring to one of his daughters.

Sophia confirmed her suspicion on hearing the statement. She no longer had any doubt that Lord Giesler wanted to make her husband pay for the tragic encounter he’d had the morning he arrived with the viscount. Perhaps he thought that, after being attended by him, he would forget what had happened and keep her daughters' inappropriate behavior a secret, but...what could she do as Randall wasn't here?

"I promise you my husband will come to your brother's home as soon as he returns. In the meantime, to bring down the fever, I advise you to put cold compresses on him. That will calm him down..."

Sophia went silent when she heard a small noise at the top of the stairs. She looked up, and when she saw Mary's nightgown tucked behind the wall, and she frowned. Why was Mary up? Was she still be reading despite her punishment? Did her daughter ever obey her orders? None of her reprimands were working and Sophia had yet to find the right one for a woman like her. Would anything in the world so mortify her that she would come to her senses?

Suddenly, a wicked grin tugged at her mouth. It was too malicious an idea even for her, but...wasn't she looking to teach her daughter a lesson? Mary would never refuse to treat a patient, and if Sophia didn't tell her who he was, she would come downstairs clutching her briefcase without remembering she was wearing her nightgown.

Sophia’s wicked smile grew even bigger when she remembered Madeleine's prophecy: "I have seen Mary in love, although she will try to restrain the feelings that man will provoke in her from the moment, they meet for the first time."

What did she have to lose? If this man was not the one for Mary, at least Sophia would enjoy the revenge. However, doubts about her daughter's behavior assailed her. What would happen when Mary discovered that the gentleman she had to cure was the same one who could not take his eyes off her, despite Josephine's pointing a gun at him? Possibly, Mary would poison him or heal him first to kill him later. However, if fate crossed their paths again...who was she to prevent it?

Sophia turned her gaze to Mrs. Reform and adopted a serious and calm posture. If she was going to suggest her daughter, she needed to convey a decisive attitude as it could not only jeopardize her honorability but also endanger her own husband's reputation. "There is a possible option. If I were in your place, I would accept it without hesitation," she said quietly.

"I'll do anything, Mrs. Moore!" Valeria exclaimed in despair. "Tell me what you have in mind, and I swear I won't delay a single second."

"But you must promise me she will not be alone with him at any time," Sophia continued.

"She?" Valeria asked, her eyes widening.

"Yes, one of my daughters, Mary. She accompanies my husband to all his medical visits. She has cured several patients and I assure you she’s as skilled in medicine as her father. She will find out, if you deem it appropriate, what is wrong with your brother and assign him treatment before my husband returns."

"Are you certain?" Valeria knew it—there was the answer to her question! Her brother was not deranged with fever but was screaming the name of the person he wished he had by his side. How on earth did he know the doctor's daughter could help him?

"I am. The only thing I need to know is whether you’ll allow that a woman can act as a doctor regardless..."

"For God's sake! Can't you see I'm a woman? Do you think I would refuse the help of one, or that I'm capable of belittling your work because I'm not a man?" Valeria said, offended. "I assure you that my husband would not be who he is today if he had not married me."

"Very well, do you want me to call her?"

"Of course!"

"And you promise me you'll look after her reputation? Keep in mind that we are talking about a young marriageable woman who will be in an unmarried man’s home, and that can lead to a lot of problems in the future," Sophia said suspiciously.

"Mrs. Moore, my brother needs a doctor, not a wife," said Valeria with apparent indignation.

"That being the case, give me ten minutes. I'll go up to her bedchamber and ask her if she's willing to..."

"Yes!" Mary exclaimed from the top of the stairs. "I'm coming! I'll put on a gown and be down in less than five minutes," she added happily.

"Mary Moore! How many times do I have to tell you not to peep?" her mother scolded her.

"Thousands!" she replied as she ran back to her bedchamber.

"Daughters," Sophia snorted. "No matter how much they grow up; they will always be little girls. I hoped when they grew up they would change their ways, but, as you have seen, they haven't," she said with mock regret.

"I have four, and if they're anything like their father, they'll be forty years old and still be stubborn capricious little girls," Mrs. Reform said a little more calmly.

II

While they waited for Mary, Sophia subtly questioned Mrs. Reform. She discovered she was the daughter of a Spaniard and a German, that they had come to London to escape their father's family, and that she had two brothers, each very different to look at. Valeria had married Mr. Trevor Reform, the former owner of the most famous gentlemen's club, years before. Sophia remarked that her husband had referred to the patient as Lord Giesler, and Valeria told her the story of the barony her brother was to occupy in Germany.

"But, as you said, they never grow as one wishes, and my brother is unwilling to accept the title," Valeria said regretfully. "I’ve tried everything..." she sighed, "but that German attitude of his prevents him from keeping his pride and assuming what one day he will inherit by right."

Would that calm this mother down? The woman hadn’t stopped asking her questions. Of course, she had answered them all. Valeria didn't want Sophia to think Mary would find herself surrounded by unscrupulous people. She needed to make it clear that her family was very respectable and that she would protect her daughter as if she were one of their own.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he'll have to give in soon. Men are, by nature, very stubborn and we must find an incentive for that step they refuse to take," Sophia commented, alluding to the barony, with a serene and calm tone.

Was Giesler a German baron? Did German nobility have the same habits as English nobility? Sophia had too much information to take in. Besides, if Madeleine's premonition was true, if Lord Giesler was the man destined for Mary...would she become an English or German baroness? How would she act if she achieved that social position? What would happen to all those men who had humiliated her in the past?

A sudden shiver ruffled the hairs all over Sophia’ body. If that happened, the best option would be for her to leave for Germany because, if she stayed, the gentlemen who despised her would be in grave danger...

"I'm ready!" Mary shouted, running down the stairs.

Sophia looked at her from top to bottom. She couldn’t scold her daughter because she was no longer wearing her nightgown, she was wearing the blue gown from the day before; it gave her the appearance of a governess. From the way the fabric clung to her body, there was no doubt that Mary had not put on her corset or petticoat. Her hair was tied back in a disastrous bun and in her right hand she carried the briefcase Randall had given her on her eighteenth birthday. Did it contain a bottle of hemlock? If so, Sophia feared she would use it up that very night when she discovered the identity of the patient.

"Remember, my dear, what your father has always said," she said softly as she helped her put on the coat she had taken from the closet.

"Good evening," Mary greeted the woman first then turned to her mother with a questioning look. "Father has told me many things, if you can be more specific..."

"That no matter who the patient in need of care is, you must do a good job," she reminded her before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"I don't know why you say that," Mary grumbled, quickly blushing. "I've never refused to treat anyone."

"I hope you won't on this occasion either," Sophia said, pulling her toward the door.

"Do you have some kind of prejudice, Miss Moore?" interjected Valeria, a little uneasy when she heard the doctor's wife's strange words.

"Not at all," Mary replied quickly, moving to Mrs. Reform's side. "It is very usual for my mother to remind me to be polite to people."

"As long as you can save him, I don't care what character you have," Valeria said. "Mrs. Moore, good night. I assure you that your daughter will be in good hands."

"Thank you, Mrs. Reform, though right now I don’t fear for Mary, but for the patient," Sophia said.

"Mother!" Mary replied angrily. "Please, let's not waste any more time. I need to see the patient as soon as possible. If you don't mind, Mrs. Reform, during the ride you can explain the symptoms to me. That conversation will be more interesting than listening to my mother's moral reminders. Good night, Mother."

"Good night, my daughter."

Once they said goodbye to Sophia, they walked to the carriage. Mrs. Moore remained at the door until the carriage left her domain. She closed the door and sighed deeply. Her second daughter's life was going to change; the only thing she couldn't be sure of was whether Mary was capable of taking on such a change...

Mary settled back in the seat and watched her new companion out of the corner of her eye. The woman looked so worried that she wished she could say something to calm her down. However, she didn’t have the gift for calming people, but for healing them.

"Forgive me for taking you out of your home at this inappropriate hour, but your mother, after explaining what is happening, insisted that you are the right person to attend to him."

"On the contrary, I feel very honored to be able to help her," Mary replied, adding a slight wave of her gloved hand to the comment. "I'll be happy to find out what disease your husband has and indicate the appropriate treatment."

"My husband?" Valeria's eyes widened. "It's not my husband who is sick, it is my brother."

"I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood. From up there I couldn't hear your words well," Mary said, blushing. "Sometimes, when I get excited, I don't pay much attention."

"Don't worry, it happens to me too. I think it's very common for intelligent women to select what interests us."

At that comment, Mary relaxed and let out a loud laugh. When she recovered, she looked at Mrs. Reform again and waited for her to reveal her brother's name, but she remained silent.

"So whom shall I attend?" she asked at last.

"Perhaps you know him, Miss Moore."

"Mary, please call me Mary."

"Thank you. Mary, you may have heard of him because he's quite a well-known man in this town. He worked at Scotland Yard for some years, but when he was about to get an important position, he refused to do so and decided to go to sea," she explained regretfully as she watched Mary continue to shake her head.

"I confess that I am not a very sociable woman. I hardly ever leave my house and when I do, I don't make it a point to socialize with the people I meet unless I am to heal them," she quipped.

"I understand..." Valeria said even more intrigued. If the woman didn't know him, why wouldn’t her brother stop mentioning her when his fever rose? She spread the skirt of her gown so it wouldn't wrinkle, then placed both hands on her lap and looked at the young woman without blinking. "But I think you do know my brother," she insisted.

"If you tell me his name, I can answer you with more certainty," Mary said wearily.

What was all the mystery about? Would she have to attend to a criminal on the run from justice? Perhaps he was a direct relative of Gilles de Rais himself.

"My brother is Philip Giesler," Valeria finally declared.

At that precise moment, Mary felt her jaw drop and heard a voice in her head scream that she would rather face a depraved man like Baron de Rais than save the man who had called her a witch.

III

"Do you know who I am talking about?" Valeria asked, observing the grimaces of displeasure on Mary’s face. "Do you know him?"

"Vaguely..." Mary mumbled.

Was that why her mother had reminded her to treat him as one of her own? Did she know who he was? For heaven's sake! she shouted silently. When she returned, she would speak to her mother very seriously and make it clear that she would never, even if they were about to die, attend to imbeciles like Lord Giesler.

"What do you know about him?" Valeria insisted, in spite of the bad mood the young woman was showing and the harsh tone she used when answering.

"A few days ago, six to be exact, your brother came to our home with the Viscount of Devon," Mary answered without diminishing her asperity. "We both had the opportunity to meet and talk for a brief period of time..."

Not long, but long enough to hate him and wish him to rot in hell. However, that part of the story was not appropriate to reveal at that time. For her and her future patient's sake, she had to calm down and show an affable character, as her father insisted: You may be the most intelligent woman in the world, but no one will respect you if you continue to behave in such an irascible manner.

"I understand," Mrs. Reform whispered, staring at the window.

"How long has he been ill? What symptoms has he shown?" Mary said quietly, trying to forget the hatred she felt for the patient and focus on finding out the possible illness. If it was all a lie, if he had made her leave her home to continue taunting her, before three hours had passed his suffering would be real, as would the terrible pain in his crotch.

"Two days. The fever does not abate; it is so high that blisters have appeared on his skin. He is delirious, sweats, keeps vomiting, and makes quite sudden involuntary movements. Before I left for your home, his eyes rolled back in his head because of the new rise in temperature, so I instructed several servants to prepare a cold water bath for him. I hope this will calm him..."

"Did you really order such foolishness?" Mary said, horrified. "What nonsense!"

"I beg your pardon?" Valeria said with a mix of surprise and astonishment due to her sudden change in attitude. Was she calling her stupid for having ordered something very common for feverish states? "What did you mean by those words, Miss Moore?" she said, again adopting an aloof attitude.

"How could you have thought of such incoherence? A person with a high fever cannot be put into a bathtub with cold water, only lukewarm; once their body adapts to the brief change of temperature, the ice is added gradually, but never all at once," she cried angrily.

"Well, now I understand why her social life is so thin on the ground..." Valeria muttered aloud. "I hope the servants were more sensible than I was and didn't freeze him before your arrival."

"I hope so!" Mary said, crossing her arms.

The conversation between the two women ceased at that moment. Silence reigned inside the carriage, although Mary's exasperated snorts could be heard from time to time. Valeria couldn’t look away from her, wondering if her brother was aware of the true character of the woman he was unconsciously crying out for. Perhaps, when they met, the young marriageable woman had seen a handsome and gallant man and brought out all her weapons of seduction to ensnare him. She only hoped that, when seeing her again, Philip would understand that scorpions had less venom in their sting than she had in her tongue.

Once the carriage halted in front of the entrance of the house, the coachman opened the door to first help Mrs. Reform, however, Mrs. Moore's daughter forgot the protocol and, after a sudden movement, jumped to the ground before the frightened servant.

"Where did you say your brother is?" Mary asked, clutching her briefcase tightly.

"I haven't told you," Valeria said grumpily. "But I imagine he's still in his bedchamber, where I left him before I went to look for your father."

"There's no time to lose! We must stop this absurd freezing!" she said, walking towards the entrance without waiting for her. Once she reached the door, Mary picked up the knocker and knocked until a butler opened it. "Tell me right now where the patient is," she ordered as soon as she saw him. She entered the house uninvited, quickly took off her coat, threw it to the butler and looked around, trying to work out where in the house she should go.

Shelworth, the butler, fixed his gray eyes on Mrs. Reform who appeared after the stranger, and asked her with that look if he should respond to her demand. At her nod, he replied: "Upstairs, third door on the right. If you wish for me to accompany you..."

He didn’t finish the sentence as Mary lifted up her gown with her left hand and went up the stairs so fast that before he blinked twice she was already on the floor above.

"Ma’am," he said to Valeria, "who is that woman? She's not one of the gentleman's friends, is she? You know we are forbidden to allow in women of questionable morality."

"Do not worry. I don't think my brother would declare her a friend, and she's not of questionable morals either. Besides, I don't suppose you know what those two words might mean," she replied, offering him her coat. "She is one of Dr. Moore's daughters, who has come in his place. I was informed by the doctor's wife that she is experienced enough to find out what’s the matter with Philip and will treat him until her father arrives."

"I beg your pardon?" Shelworth said, even more astonished. "A woman being a doctor? Are you sure?" Her behavior didn't strike me as..."

"Yes, I didn't think it was very appropriate either, but if she can find out what's wrong with Philip I'll forget the coarse and insolent behavior she displays so proudly. By the way, do you know if they've been able to get him into the bathtub?"

"Several servants have just gone up to lift him out of bed. As you well know, the dimensions of the master are..."

"Don't you dare! Put him back on that damned mattress, you useless bunch!" Mary shouted so loudly that Valeria and Shelworth heard her as if she still was in the hall.

"My God," the butler exclaimed in horror, "Do you still claim that this woman is the one to save him?"

"No," Valeria assured him before she lifted up her gown with both hands and climbed the stairs as fast as she could.

When she reached the bedchamber, Valeria leaned against the door frame to catch her breath. As her breathing calmed, her eyes settled on the inside of the room. The three servants who had tried to move her brother's body stood at the foot of the bed and looked at Mary as if she was insane, because no sensible woman would scream in an unfamiliar home or stand in front of a naked man, even if the sheet hid her brother's lower half.

Valeria, however, was stupefied by Miss Moore's cool attitude. The doctor's daughter was not contemplating him as a woman, but as a doctor looking for the origin of the illness from which his patient was suffering. After touching his forehead, she continued with his chest. Her hands touched Philip's chest without any sensuality. Sensuality? The woman didn't know what that was!

But Valeria's eyes widened and the three servants exclaimed in horror as she pulled the sheet down to his hips. The curly, blonde hair of his crotch was exposed. Valeria put her hands to her face and thanked God that he was unconscious, because her brother would blame her for taking Mary to his room, and the woman’s licenses while he was unable to defend himself.

Without taking her eyes off Mary, Valeria noticed how her long fingers focused on his right groin area. With an implausible gentleness, the woman felt it for a long time, then pulled them away, walked backward, lifted his face, turned it towards the astonished servants, and asked: "Where is your master's vomit?"

As none of them was able to answer, unable to speak because of their astonishment, Mary decided to look under the bed for the vessel. When she found it, she picked it up and carried it to the light on the bedside table. "How long has it been like this?"

"A couple of days," Valeria answered, slowly moving closer. "First it was the fever and then the..."

"Has he complained of abdominal pain?" Mary interrupted her, returning to the bed with the basin in her hands.

Mary placed it on the floor. Then, despite the reproachful glances of the servants, she placed her palms again on the affected groin area and just as her fingers pressed a little harder Giesler, while still unconscious, cried out in pain.

"It seems that he does complain..." Valeria commented bitingly as she watched her brother finally open his eyes and grasp the young woman's right hand tightly.

"Calm down, Lord Giesler. I’m Mary Moore," she began to speak to him as he looked at her in astonishment, as if he thought he was living a hallucination. "Your sister has asked my father for help. Since he wasn’t home, I came in his place." Mary pulled her hand free, went to her briefcase, and looked for the stethoscope. She returned to the sick man, rested the equipment on his abdomen, and listened carefully.

"Mary..." Giesler whispered, resting his head back on the pillow, unable to take his eyes off her.

"Christ! I need silence," Mary commanded.

Philip watched her dumbfounded until Valeria settled down next to him. Not wanting to make a single sound to not disobey the fierce woman's command, he slowly turned his head towards his sister. The latter shrugged her shoulders and looked at him in a sympathetic manner as if she was asking him to forgive her for bringing her. However, despite the dazed state Philip possessed and the pain coursing through his large body, he smiled before slipping into unconsciousness again.

"I believe his right iliac fossa is swollen," Mary commented, placing the instrument in the case.

"And?" Valeria asked, taking the cloth on a table to gently wipe Philip's sweaty face.

"We have to make an incision in that part of the body, cut and remove the affected fossa, clean the inside well, cauterize and sew it up," she explained as if she was describing a task as simple as filling a glass of water under the tap.

"How can we ease his pain until your father returns," Valeria said, finishing her work.

"We shouldn't wait that long. If the problem is sorted, there is a good chance he will survive, but if not...I advise you to make all the necessary arrangements for an upcoming funeral," she said brutally.

"How dare you speak like that, Miss Moore? You are referring to my brother! Don’t you have any compassion?" she cried in horror at her tactlessness.

"I am a rational and honest woman, Mrs. Reform. I am making it clear to you what is at stake, and I am stressing that if we do not act quickly, your brother's life will be over in just three days." Mary placed both hands on her waist and looked at her fiercely. "Are you unsatisfied with my diagnosis? Then...run! Get Dr. Foster to verify my conclusion! Though it may be too late for him..." she said, more cruelly than she should have.

Was Mary desperate to save the life of the man who called her a witch? Why? Had she changed her mind when she saw how his blue eyes looked at her as if they idolized her? She didn't know if there was a tiny bit of pity in her heart or if she wanted to save him so she could later remind him that he owed her a life debt.

Whatever it was, it was the first time she had mixed feelings and work...

"Are you telling me my brother's life is in my hands?" Valeria asked, getting up from the bed.

"No. Your brother's life is in mine, because I will be the one to perform the intervention. You must give your consent. But I can also slap Lord Giesler until he accepts my decision," Mary said, turning to the patient as if she intended to hit him.

"Don't you dare touch him!" Valeria walked over to her. "If you do, I can assure you there won't be a single lock of hair left on your head."

"I don't mind going bald, Mrs. Reform. In case you don't know, in less than a year I'll have another nice head of hair, but if I don't operate on your brother right away, he'll be in the ground, rotting and feeding all kinds of worms..."

"Damn it!" Valeria cried in despair, "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to consent to what I'm going to do," Mary said, calmly.

"What if he dies during the procedure?"

"He'll die anyway," Mary replied without hesitation.

"All right, everyone follows Miss Moore's instructions!" Valeria said at last. "I hope he doesn't die in your hands..."

"He won't," Mary determined before she stood in front of her briefcase and prepared all the instruments she needed for this hurried operation.

IV

Valeria could not believe what she was seeing. It was so implausible that more than once she thought she was living a nightmare.

After Miss Moore had ordered all the candles and lamps in the room to be lit and the windows closed, she asked the servants to set up two large tables in front of the fireplace. It was there that they deposited Philip. Then she made them wash their hands in seven basins they had filled with soap and water. But she wasn’t satisfied with this exhaustive cleaning, so she also forced them to spray their palms with a liquid she called disinfectant. The servants did so without complaining, as the woman's sour and authoritarian character was very clear. Two of them, who looked at her as if she were the devil himself, were given the task of cleaning up the blood that fell on the floor and stoking the fire.

Once everything was ready, Mary got down to work.

If up to that moment Sophia thought Miss Moore was a unique person, the behavior she maintained afterwards confirmed it. While she herself couldn't stand for two minutes as she witnessed the tiny incision she made to Philip's body, Mary didn't even blink. It seemed that everything around her had ceased to exist for her, even though Mary talked endlessly about certain scientific findings about the procedure she was performing. The young woman focused on the work with such confidence and precision that Sophia was fascinated - not even in her own births was the doctor who assisted her that precise and professional!

Undoubtedly, Mary had a gift and, strange as it seemed to her, Philip must have known it. Perhaps that was why he had murmured her name so many times. But...when and how did he find out? Would they have talked about medicine at that first meeting? No, that option was out of the question, since her brother had no knowledge of that subject. Besides, the doctor's daughter didn’t seem to like to remember that moment, as if it had been the worst of her life... How did Philip know about the woman's incredible skill? Had he inquired about her after that day? Why? She hoped that, if Philip was saved, he would answer all her questions, because it was the first time Philip had kept anything from Sophia about women and it made her suspect that perhaps this encounter was more important to him than to her.

For the next four hours, Mary was unable to take her eyes off her patient's body. After putting him to sleep, for which she had to use almost all the chloroform she had, as she hadn’t taken into account the patient's dimensions until she heard him squeal after pressing the tip of the scalpel on his skin, she made the incision in the area and searched for the iliac fossa. As she thought from the swelling at first glance, it was not perforated, the debris was still stored in the small vermiform appendage. As she removed it and cauterized the edge of the healthy cecum with a burning knife, she talked to the uneasy Mrs. Reform about the Egyptian discoveries and how they recorded such disease in the mummifications. She then alluded to studies conducted by Lorenz Heriste, a disciple of Herman Boerhaave, and ended her scientific monologue with research conducted by Reginald H. Fitz, a famed instructor of pathological anatomy at Harvard University.

The only thing that came out of the sister's mouth the entire time was, "I hope he doesn’t die."

Mary deduced she hadn’t heard a single word of her broad and cogent scientific exposition on the discovery of the inflamed appendix.

"Needle and thread," she asked once she finished the interior cleaning.

"Here you are," the servant who had remained at her side at all times answered.

"Did you disinfect it?" she asked after holding it and stretching the thread so there were no knots.

"Yes, I did as you indicated," he reported, quickly turning away from her.

"Did you wash your hands before you did it? Because, although it may not be visible to the naked eye, our skin may be contaminated by..."

"I assure you, Miss Moore, I have never had my hands so clean," the servant interrupted her reluctantly as she repeated each order seven times, as if they could not understand it the first time.

With a smile crossing her face, Mary began to close the wound as Mrs. Reform finally rose from the chair where she had remained during the operation. When the suturing was complete, Mary took the scalpel, cut off the excess thread, and placed it on the tray where the removed piece of intestine was.

"Now he just needs a great deal of rest. You must take the medicine I will leave on the night stand. No colder baths for a long time. I recommend you clean his body with warm water cloths and if white crusts appear around the wound, you have to..."

"Are you leaving? Do you intend to leave him like this?" Valeria sputtered stupefied, looking at Philip's convalescent body.

She could see that the Moore's daughter's performance was sublime and that Mrs. Moore was right to propose it. However, she was not going to allow her to leave so soon. I need her to stay the night. Mary, better than anyone else, could attend to her brother when he awoke.

"My work is done, Mrs. Reform. Now it's your turn to take care of the patient. If you follow my instructions, he will be up and about in two days, and ten days after that he will be back to his usual lifestyle," Mary replied, wiping the sweat from her brow with the right sleeve of her gown. "Besides, my father will come in a few hours to check his condition. If you have any doubts about..."

"You're staying!" the patient’s sister exclaimed. Realizing that she hadn’t used the proper tone to speak to her, since the wrinkles on Mary’s forehead indicated that she would never obey an order, she softened her voice. "Miss Moore, Mary, I beg you not to leave until he opens his eyes. You have already discovered that I am unable to hold my ground when I see blood, and if I have to change the bandage or clean..."

"The bandage change can be done by my father in a couple of days; I remind you that it is not appropriate for me to remain here unnecessarily. I have no doubt that your brother will get better if he follows my instructions..." Mary commented, visibly overcome.

She didn't want to be present when that blond titan opened his eyes; she preferred to stay away from the man who called her a witch. Besides, she couldn't waste her time taking care of the person she hated. It was true that she had saved him from certain death, that she had been touched by the way he looked at her, but that was as far as her benevolence went. The sooner she left this place, the sooner she could forget that she knew him and that she had seen that immense naked body.

How was it possible that her pupils had fixed on certain areas? She had cared for many men, but he was different from all of them. The width of his torso, of his arms, the magnitude and strength of his legs... All of his physicality dignified him. Any woman who longed to have robust and healthy children would look for a husband like him. But she would not be that future wife. The only thing Mary wished was to put some distance between the two of them and to forget everything she had seen.

"If you fear for your reputation, I assure you that no one in this house will mention your visit," Valeria said, approaching her.

"Reputation?" Mary asked amusingly "I've never been interested in that kind of nonsense! I'm the most upstanding person in Town, that's why nobody can stand me. It's not about that, Mrs. Reform, it's more about privacy. You and your brother need privacy in order to perform the appropriate care. What would your brother think if he sees me in his room?"

"That you saved his life. Just that. And he'll be as grateful as I am."

"But it's not proper for a woman to be alone in a man's bedchamber," Mary insisted, wiping the blood from her hands in the basin that one of the servants brought her.

"Are you modest, Mary? After what you've done, are you trying to convince me that you are a modest woman? Because if you were, you wouldn't have endured the four hours that the intervention lasted with such solemnity," Valeria persevered.

"Are you criticizing my skill? Let me remind you that I just saved your brother’s life," she said, pointing a finger with her right hand at Giesler.

"Please, don't misunderstand my words. I am and will always be grateful to you. All I want is for you to stay by his side tonight. I’m so tired after these days of worry that I don't know if I will be able to act in the right way. Do you know how I would feel if after your brilliant work he doesn't recover because of me?" Valeria explained, visibly worried.

"I'll take that request as a compliment," Mary replied, folding her arms. "But I insist that I am not the right person to look after your brother."

"I will ask a servant to accompany you at all times. That way you’ll never be alone and you will be able to give him the care you consider appropriate," Valeria said, a little calmer. "If tomorrow, when your father arrives, he decides that you shouldn’t continue in the residence, we will look for someone else to take your place."

"It's not about being alone with him, but about the reaction he will have when he opens his eyes and finds me next to him," Mary said, stretching her arms out towards the floor. Then she went back to where Philip was laying, covered up to his chest with a sheet that one of the servants had put up, and watched him in silence. Would she do the right thing by staying that night? What could happen? After using so much chloroform, he shouldn’t wake up until the arrival of the new day when her father could take care of him. But...what if he woke up? What would he do when he saw her? Would he look at her tenderly again or would he yell at her to leave?

"My brother won't judge you, Mary. After what you have done for him, why do you think he will react negatively?" Valeria insisted as she approached her.

"Do you remember one of the questions you asked me in the carriage?" Mary continued, turning away from Giesler to find herself in the middle of the bedchamber with Mrs. Reform.

"It would help me if you could be more specific, because everything I thought before your performance has been erased from my mind," she said sincerely. She wasn’t lying. Everything she had thought about Mary disappeared from her mind as she watched her work with such expertise and professionalism.

"You asked me if we knew each other and I said briefly. Well, I assure you that our meeting was enough to eliminate any cordial friendship between us." Mary looked sideways at Philip and sighed. He seemed so docile in this state that even she doubted whether he was an ogre. But he was.

"I'm sure my brother will forget whatever incident you had in the past when he finds out that you saved his life," Valeria clarified, waving her out of the room so they could both leave together.

"I'm not very convinced about that..." Mary murmured, walking towards the door. "Would you be able to forgive the person who wanted to kill you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Valeria asked, standing behind her. "Did you want to kill him? Why?"

"Because he called me a witch," answered Mary, advancing at a fast pace. If Philip’s sister started yelling at her, she'd better do it outside of the room so she wouldn't wake up the patient too soon.

"He would do it without thinking. In my brother's defense, I have to tell you that he is very attentive with women, too much for my understanding..." Valeria clarified, following her out. After closing the door, she stood next to Mary and looked at her for a few moments. Why did he call her a witch? What had happened between them? If she wanted to know the truth and find out why her brother had called Mary that, and why he smiled at her when he discovered she was by his side, she had to make an effort to grow the little friendship between the two of them. "Would you do me the honor of having some tea? After so many hours without eating, I'm famished."

"I don't like tea, I prefer coffee, and if you add to that some poached eggs and toast, I'd be delighted to join you," said Mary, standing at the top of the stairs.

"I see I'm not the only one who's hungry," Valeria said with a smile. "Don't worry, the servants have been unable to sleep since my brother became sick and I'm sure the cook will be happy to prepare anything we want." She linked her right arm with Mary's left and they descended the stairs together. "You know, Philip is incapable of leaving his bedchamber without having had two cups of coffee first. As he explained to me, people who drink it are more intelligent and active. After what you've done, I think he’s right. You are a very clever and perceptive woman."