Dr. North’s Wound
Less conventional? Euphemistically, the attachment of electrodes to the basal ganglia and cerebral lobes of a man with brain fever, the placement of such devices and the application of electrical charges of various voltages, inducing fits or the facial rictus of a man unmistakably experiencing erotic pleasure, might be said indeed to be unconventional.
He added, as if reading my thoughts: “I do no one harm, and I indeed I hope I do everything in my power to cure my patients of their ailments, and when that is not God’s will, at least to provide them with any comfort I can.”
“Perhaps,” I replied cautiously. “But is it not… unscrupulous… to use these people against their will?”
“Against their will? How can it be against their will when they have no consciousness of what is being done to them? ”
With that, he ushered me into his drawing room, and poured us both a glass of sherry, which I was too tired to decline and which I drank without relish.
“I must clean up your rug, doctor…” I began.
“No, leave it, Jerome, Harris will do it.” Harris was my employer’s maid, a woman of advanced years who had once been the midwife of the practice under North’s predecessor, Oliver Marsden.
“I hear incidentally, that Arabella’s father is opposed to the marriage.”
He changed the subject with the speed and deadliness of a viper. It was true: my relationship with Arabella Fanshawe had blossomed in the past months, the dinner party having unwittingly been the catalyst to our growing romantic attachment, developed with the assistance of Dr. North who contrived to invite her to parties and outings at which I would be present, and who made occasions and locations for us to be alone together. Indeed, thinking back, it seemed that the doctor often praised Arabella’s beauty and cleverness and sensitivity to me, so much so that I thought him in love with her himself until I found that he had equally praised me to Arabella. Should I be grateful for this matchmaking? Did I seem so incapable of attracting Miss Fanshawe on my own? In truth I did feel a little below her, and the more gracious part of me was only grateful for the doctor’s generosity towards us both.
And yet. And yet her father thought less of me than I did of myself. I, a mere student with no dowry to offer, could hardly be considered a suitor for his youngest daughter, his most precious jewel. That she was no less precious to me was no matter; Mr Fanshawe held all the cards. Or so it seemed then.
I said, mockingly: “It is a wonder to me that he allows me to see her at all. It would not surprise me if he were to lock her in a tower like Rapunzel.”
Dr. North gave a short, hoarse laugh at this, and said: “You may be no prince in his eyes as yet, but I see your potential even if he does not. And besides… I have some influence with him. And I have at least some understanding of the politics of love.”
This provided the opening I needed: “I do not think of my relationship with Arabella as political in any respect.” Trying to retain a jovial tone I added: “Perhaps your relationship with your mysterious lady friend is of a more governmental persuasion?”
He smiled, but with no sincerity. The doctor had common sense enough to appreciate his relationship must be known about, and he was clever enough not to show surprise.
“I have known Madeleine for several years, and I have no doubt that she loves me. I have feelings for her. I—” And here he stumbled over his words. “She is… willful. Beautiful. A warm and generous spirit. And yet…”
“You cannot reciprocate her feelings?”
He looked searchingly at me, a vulnerability fleetingly glimpsed in his countenance. “I wish more than anything that I could. If any woman could inspire such feelings it is she. But when I am with her I feel…nothing. The pleasure of her company, of course, and the tenderness of a deep friendship. Yet it is not enough. And yet I seek more, much more.” Dr. North spoke with unaccustomed passion, but it was the passion of a deep thinker and strangely devoid of emotion; a puzzling juxtaposition of opposite states of being.
My eyes sought his in silent enquiry, but it was clear that he was done with the subject for the moment. “But, to work, my boy. You must rest first, but in the morning we have a childless couple to see.”
I was greatly surprised at this. “A childless couple? But that is not your… my… area, doctor. I have no knowledge of such things.”
