These thoughts have barely formed when the man in questionrides up alongside the wagon and grabs me.
6
Urbanus et instructus.
A gentleman and a scholar.
Thereare no words. No words even in my mind. I am so shocked by the indignity ofbeing hauled out of the wagon like a sack of flour that I can’t even think ofwhat to call Kelly.
“Your friend Little Hawk told me where you live. Let’s get youthere, Miss Grayson.”
We ride along with me sitting in front of the doctor,sidesaddle, with the pommel digging into my leg. Blasted uncomfortable. But Kellycradles me with his free arm against the worst of the galloping motion, and mycheek rests against his chest. I haven’t had any visions during this ordeal,even with the doctor’s probing. Unusual. Must be the bump on my head.
The minutes drag by until we reach my family’s estate. Themanor house is called The Revels, which is incongruous since I have never heardthe slightest bit of revelry taking place there. Dr. Kelly speaks with afootman, telling him to notify my mother that we have arrived. From Mama’sgasp, I’d say she’s flummoxed. The doctor introduces himself, and describes thewagon accident in a matter-of-fact manner.
He hands me over to a stable groom, climbs down from his horse,and then takes me back in his arms again. It’s similar to a slow game of hotpotato, with me as the traveling spud. We proceed through the porte-cocherelike incognito royalty, and Mama leads our entourage—housekeeper, butler,valet, cook—and Dr. Kelly and I to the second floor. I’ve always wondered whatit would be like to be swept off my feet and carried to my boudoir by agentleman. It’s not at all as I’d imagined. The staircase is steep and long,and although Dr. Kelly does not sound out of breath, I’m sure he’s regrettingthat he didn’t just leave me with the stable groom.
Mama opens my bedroom door, and the entourage enters, Dr. Kellyand I bringing up the rear. He puts me down gently upon the mattress, andpushes me prone, taking off my glasses again without permission. Damnation, theydon’t belong to you. Give them back.
The doctor does nothing of the kind. Rather he clears the room ofall bystanders except for my mother. Then Kelly unbuttons the collar of mydress and feels the pulse at my throat, the forward fellow. “Any nausea?” heasks.
I shake my head, causing it new pain, and hear the dreadedrattling in my mother’s pocket. She sets the bottle and spoon on thenightstand.
Please, no laudanum. I’m not strong enough to wrestle with youand Cordelia now.
“What medicine is this?” Dr. Kelly asks Mama.
“The elixir of the poppy. It helps Hester to rest.”
I hear the doctor pick up the bottle and uncork it. A momentlater he puts the stopper back in. “I’ll take this laudanum with me,” he says.“It’s the last thing your daughter needs. She must remain awake for a fewhours, to ensure that her concussion is not worse than I suspect.”
Much obliged, Kelly. I take back all the bad things I thoughtabout you earlier.
“What if we require the laudanum at another time?” my motherasks.
“All your daughter requires is nourishing food and kindcompany. The repeated use of narcotics can lead to addiction.”
Cordelia’s footsteps hustle along the hallway. Willard musthave borrowed a rig in town to bring her home. She opens the bedroom door andenters, quietly listening as the doctor gives further instructions for my care.He sends for water and clean towels and bathes my facial wounds—the broken skinon my forehead, the raw cheekbone and split lip. It is an odd, humblingsituation for me, but the doctor has a soft touch. Checking his handiwork,Kelly leans over me again, cupping the side of my jaw in his hand.
Brightness and color explode within my head. Vignettes, notlike a full-length vision at all, but a mental scrapbook of sorts. This kind ofthing is rare for me, happening only a handful of times that I can remember. Aflash of discernment without any scenes of death or crime. In theory, therevelation is supposed to help me understand people better, but I do not alwaysknow how to use the information I receive. And it can be quite disconcerting,to witness so much of another’s life.
I can barely keep up with the vision, the images change sofast. A child plays at the seashore. He is golden-haired with heavily-lashed,hazel eyes and a faint cleft in his chin. A woman watches from a distance andcalls him Noah, telling him to get out of the waves. The next scene shows anolder version of the child—nine or ten, perhaps?—standing on the stoop of abrownstone with a toddler in his arms. Two people argue inside the buildingbehind him; the man throws furniture about and the woman screams. Now Noah is ayouth, at least five years older than the boy outside the brownstone. He runsthrough the night with a gang of hoodlums. They break the glass of a shopwindow, steal the jewelry on display inside, and flee. Except Noah is caught bya man wearing a top hat and carrying a doctor’s satchel.
The last picture shows Noah Kelly at his graduation frommedical school. Seated on a stage, he looks over the audience at thecommencement exercises as though he is searching for someone, anticipating, amuscle working in his jaw. The strong, clean lines of his face are mature now,having finally achieved their full promise of rugged beauty. A stylish brunettewaves at him from the crowd, holding an infant on her lap. Seeing them at last,the new physician smiles and waves back.
“You’ll feel better soon, Miss Grayson,” Kelly says, his deepvoice sweeping into the vision and returning me to the present time. “I’llfollow up with you tomorrow.”
My cheeks bloom with heat, and I feel contrite, as though I’veseen him bare, body and soul. After a few more words, he bids us farewell andleaves. Mama begins to give Cordelia instructions. Do not excite Miss Hester,see that she rests … I tune out their conversation and listen as a groom bringsthe doctor’s horse to the porte-cochere. Kelly rides away, whistling the song “Oh,My Darling
