Lethal Remedies: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery: Victorian San Francisco Mystery, #7

By M. Louisa Locke

San Francisco 1882: Annie has a problem. She has a beautiful child, a loving husband, a well-run boardinghouse with a supportive circle of friends and family, but she's feeling restless and unhappy. Dr. Charlotte Brown, the doctor who delivered Annie's baby, has a different problem. The Pacific Dispensary for Women and Children, the clinic and hospital she co-founded, is being threatened by financial and legal difficulties caused by the mysterious illness of a former patient.

 

When Annie takes up the challenge to help Dr. Brown and the dispensary, she will discover that getting back into the business of investigating crimes is exactly the remedy she requires. Lethal Remedies is the seventh novel in the USA Today best-selling cozy, historical, Victorian San Francisco Mystery series and comes after Scholarly Pursuits and before Entangled Threads.  

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: M. Louisa Locke
• Release date: May 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393524083

M. Louisa Locke

M. Louisa Locke, a retired professor of U.S. and Women’s history, has embarked on a new career with her best-selling Victorian San Francisco Mystery series, which is based on Dr. Locke's doctoral research on late 19th century working women. Maids of Misfortune, the first in this series, features domestic service, and Uneasy Spirits, the sequel, explores women and 19th Spiritualism. Her third book, Bloody Lessons, focuses on teachers working in the San Francisco public schools in 1880. She has also written four short stories that are based on characters from the novels, and they can be found in this collection, Victorian San Francisco Stories. Her next book in the series, Deadly Proof, about women in the San Francisco printing industry, will be available early in 2015.Go to http://mlouisalocke.com/ for more about M. Louisa Locke and her work, including information about the historical research behind these books. Word of mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. Therefore, if you enjoyed Maids of Misfortune, please consider writing a review. Dr. Locke is on the Board of Directors for the Historical Fiction Authors Cooperative and an active member of the Alliance of Independent Authors.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Wednesday, February 22, 1882

San Francisco, California

There’s my big girl, Annie Dawson said, holding Abigail gently by the arms so the child could sit upright in her lap, facing her. Look at you, little bright eyes, holding your head up so nicely.

At nine months, Abigail was a small but sturdy child, her reddish-blonde hair sticking up in riotous curls around her round face, her dark brown eyes alert, with a touch of mischief in them that reminded Annie of her husband, Nate.

She wished he’d come with her. That was one of the reasons she made this late appointment, hoping that her husband would make it home early and she could persuade him to join her. But of course he was working again, late. At least the weather had cooperated, chilly but not windy. And the gentle incline and the broad sidewalks on Taylor and Geary made the three blocks to Dr. Brown’s office and residence an easy walk, even carrying a child.

Annie jiggled her right knee, watching as her daughter grinned, showing two pearly bottom teeth. She turned to the dark-haired, blue-eyed young woman sitting on a chair next to her and said, I think Dr. Brown is going to be pleased at how much she’s grown since her last check-up, don’t you, Kathleen?

Yes, ma’am. She’s at least an inch longer and getting so strong, she’ll be crawling before we know it.

Annie smiled inwardly at the note of pride in Kathleen’s voice.

When Kathleen Hennessey started working for her, nearly four years ago, the young woman had been an energetic but relatively unskilled scullery maid. Gradually, under the tutelage of Beatrice O’Rourke, Annie’s cook and housekeeper, Kathleen had mastered all the skills necessary to keep Annie’s O’Farrell Street boardinghouse running smoothly. There wasn’t anything, from assisting in the kitchen, ironing the fine linen, serving at table, or keeping the house clean and polished, that the young woman didn’t do to perfection. She’d even become an excellent lady’s maid, with a deft hand at dressing Annie’s hair on the rare occasions she and her husband had a social function to attend. In addition, Kathleen had proven an apt teacher, passing on the skills she’d learned to Tilly, the young Irish girl whom Annie had hired two years ago.

What Annie hadn’t foreseen was how enthusiastically Kathleen would embrace the extra duties that came with Abigail’s birth last May. Frankly, she had expected that Tilly would be the one to step in to help, given that baby-tending was the only skill the girl had brought with her from Ireland. Yet, from the first day, when Annie, exhausted from her long confinement, started to cry when she had difficulty getting the baby’s diapers pinned correctly, it was Kathleen who magically appeared at her side, ready to assist.

That’s why today, when Kathleen asked if she could accompany Annie and Abigail on the visit to the doctor for the child’s check-up, Annie couldn’t refuse her. Mrs. O’Rourke assured her that Tilly was perfectly capable of helping get the meal preparation underway without Kathleen. Nevertheless, if Annie had known Kathleen wanted to come and that Nate wouldn’t make it, she wouldn’t have made the appointment so close to dinner time. And, as often happened, it looked like the doctor was running late and was still engaged with another patient when they arrived. Not the first time this had happened. Well, Annie could send Kathleen back home if the delay was too long.

They had been met at the door by a rather breathless servant, who’d shown them to the former parlor that now acted as a waiting room. Annie knew that this old home, built like her own in the fifties, was the doctor’s residence as well. Dr. Brown once confided to Annie that her husband, a banker, had tried to get her to move up Geary to the more fashionable Western Addition, but she wanted a place that was centrally located for her patients. She and her husband had three children, which, given that they would be home from school and dinner time was approaching, might explain the harried demeanor of the servant.

Suddenly, Annie heard the sound of raised voices coming from the examining room next door.

Goodness gracious, someone doesn’t sound pleased, she said to Kathleen. I’m having trouble picturing anyone getting into an argument with Dr. Brown. She’s always so calm. Nothing ever seems to upset her.

The doctor’s manner had been so reassuring throughout Annie’s pregnancy, particularly during Abigail’s difficult delivery, when her daughter seemed reluctant to leave the safety of her mother’s womb.

Kathleen whispered, Ma’am, do you think maybe the doctor had to give someone bad news, and they didn’t take it so well?

Oh dear, I hope that isn’t the case.

The door to the waiting room flew open, startling her daughter. Annie gathered Abigail to her, giving her a comforting pat on her back as she glanced at the tall woman who stood looking back into the examination room. She was well into her middle years and wore a deep purple walking suit in the newest cuirass-style that, in Annie’s opinion, would have looked better on a younger and slimmer woman.

The woman, her voice sharp with irritation, said, Charlotte, I certainly hope you will have a more satisfactory explanation at the meeting next month. Otherwise, I can’t promise how I and the other board members will respond.

When the stranger noticed that she had an audience, she pursed her lips, nodded brusquely to Annie, and pushed rudely past the maid who had reappeared at the door to the waiting room to usher the woman out. In a moment, they heard the front door slam.

Saints preserve us! Kathleen whispered. "I wonder what that was all about?"

Just then, Dr. Brown appeared. A short, round-faced woman in her mid-thirties, she smiled pleasantly as if nothing untoward had occurred. She said, Mrs. Dawson, Miss Kathleen, I apologize for keeping you waiting. Do bring Abigail into the office so I can look her over, although I can see with my own eyes she seems in fine fettle.

Annie shifted Abigail to her shoulder as she rose, and Kathleen gathered together the paraphernalia that she deemed necessary whenever they took Abigail outside the house.

Passing Dr. Brown, Annie couldn’t help but notice the flush on the good doctor’s cheeks and her rapid breathing.

Hard to believe that a woman like Dr. Brown, who could dissect a cadaver, deliver a baby, and ease a dying patient into the next world, would feel threatened by a society matron with questionable fashion sense.

If you would hold Abigail facing outward on your lap, that will help, Dr. Brown said. She put on a starched white apron and rolled back the sleeves of her black silk dress, revealing plump forearms that Annie knew from experience hid surprising strength, certainly enough to support a woman in the throes of birthing pains.

Going over to wash her hands at the stand in the corner of the room that acted as both office and examination room, the doctor said, It will be easier to do the first part of the examination while she is sitting with you. And if you could take off the booties as well.

The astringent smell of the soap the doctor used warred with the scent from the vases of flowers scattered around the room. Annie idly wondered what the original owners of the house would have thought if they saw how the current resident was using what had been a formal dining room. A large wooden desk and filing cabinet sat where the sideboard would have been, the former china cabinet now held various strange medical instruments behind its glass doors, and, instead of a table and chairs, a white sheeted examining table stood in the center of the room.

Pulling a chair over so that she was knee-to-knee with Annie, Dr. Brown proceeded to check Abigail’s eyes, ears, and nose, moved her hands gently over the baby’s head, and then had the baby track her finger back and forth, chuckling as Abigail grabbed and held onto her index finger, babbling all the while.

The doctor then took the stethoscope that hung around her neck, put its two ivory-tipped ear pieces into her ears, and lifting up Abigail’s embroidered white gown, placed the wooden funnel against different parts of Abigail’s chest. Familiar with the process, Annie then shifted her daughter slightly, pulling up the rest of her gown so that the doctor could listen to the baby’s lungs from the back.

Annie found her own chest always tightened during this part of the exam. She couldn’t get the memory out of her head of Dr. Sims, who used to examine her mother. He’d used one of the old-fashioned stethoscopes, which was no more than a long single wooden tube. Her mother’s breath would sound so harsh, and Dr. Sims would frown then shake his head sadly. There had been something seriously wrong with her mother’s heart…causing her lungs to fill up. She had died when Annie was only twelve, and Annie worried that there was some similar defect that might crop up in her daughter’s heart.

Dr. Brown leaned back and returned the stethoscope to a large pocket in her apron, saying, Her heart and lungs sound perfectly fine. Now, Mrs. Dawson, if you would bring her over to the examining table and take her gown off. And Miss Kathleen, could you poke up that fire a bit? We don’t want her to get chilled.

Kathleen, who had been hovering behind Annie’s chair, went swiftly over to the fireplace to fulfill the doctor’s request. Once Annie had Abigail’s gown unbuttoned and off, she took her over to the table, where Kathleen clucked with concern when she saw that the baby’s diaper was wet.

Dr. Brown said, I will take her measurements while you get out a clean diaper, Miss Kathleen. Mrs. Dawson, could you place Abigail on the scale?

Her daughter looked puzzled to be sitting on something so odd, so Annie initiated a game of patty-cake to distract her. The doctor finished calibrating the scale and announced that Abigail had gained two pounds since the last visit. Next, the doctor had Annie move Abigail back to the table’s padded surface, asking her to straighten her daughter’s legs out as much as possible so she could measure her length. Then, as she quickly examined the baby’s nether regions, the doctor complimented Annie on the lack of any signs of a rash.

By then Abigail was grimacing and flailing her arms, a sure signal she wanted to sit up and would soon express her displeasure, so it was with relief that Annie saw Kathleen was ready to replace the diaper. Annie thought that if anyone should be complimented for the baby’s healthy bottom, it should be Kathleen, who not only did many of the diaper changes, but also was the one who had the unpleasant task of washing all the soiled linens.

Once the diaper was changed, Dr. Brown swept Abigail up in her arms and then lowered her down so that her feet were just touching the table top, letting her stand and push against this surface as if she wanted to bounce. Everything looks good, she said, handing Abigail back over to Annie. You can go ahead and get her dressed and bundled back up.

No sooner had Annie started to pull the baby’s gown back over Abigail’s head than her daughter began to wail, demonstrating that there was certainly not anything wrong with her lung capacity. Kathleen hurried over to help, putting the baby’s booties on while Annie buttoned the gown.

Raising her voice to be heard, Annie said, Kathleen, why don’t you go on and take Abigail home? Don’t worry about the bag with the soiled things. I will bring it with me when I come.

Are you sure, ma’am? I can probably get her quieted down.

I’m sure. I won’t be long, but I had a few questions I wanted to ask Dr. Brown about Abigail’s sleeping and eating habits.

A few moments later, as she watched Kathleen leave the examining room with Abigail, who was still crying fitfully, Annie told herself that she wasn’t heartless to feel relief for the ensuing silence. And she did have some questions she wanted to ask the doctor, questions that she felt uncomfortable asking in front of her maid.

Dr. Brown, who was standing next to the examination table, taking down some notes, looked up as the door closed behind Kathleen and said, So, Mrs. Dawson, before we discuss Abigail any further, why don’t you let me give you a brief exam? Because while your daughter is clearly thriving…I’m not so sure you are.

CHAPTER 2

You say you haven’t much appetite? How have you been sleeping? Dr. Brown asked as Annie slipped off the examination table and began to button up the front of her dress.

I suppose as well as can be expected. I mean, I’ve always been a light sleeper. Since the baby was born, I tend to wake up three or four times in the night, and I’m not always able to go right back to sleep.

After shaking out her skirts, Annie sat down on the chair across from Dr. Brown, while the doctor looked briefly at some papers in front of her and made a few notes.

Finally, Dr. Brown said, Why do you think you are waking up so often? Didn’t you say that Abigail is now sleeping at least seven or more hours at a stretch at night?

"Yes, but not every night. In addition, at the end of January, while those first two teeth came in, she was pretty fussy. Your suggestion that we start feeding her more solid foods during the day, including some porridge before I put her to bed at six, has helped. I nurse her at eleven, before my husband and I retire. And most nights she doesn’t wake up again until six or after."

So what exactly is the problem?

Annie suppressed a sigh. All she has to do is whimper, and I find myself wide awake.

Dr. Brown raised one eyebrow but said nothing.

I know, we spoke about this during the last visit. You think I should move her into the nursery.

"I didn’t say that. I said that I saw no reason why you couldn’t do so, if you wished. Have you started putting her to sleep there during the day?"

Yes, but at night, I’m afraid I might not hear her right away if she cried, and I don’t want her waking the boarders. During the day, this isn’t a problem. And I swear, Kathleen seems to have some preternatural ability to anticipate when she will be stirring from one of her naps. But at night, it’s different. My sister-in-law is right next door, and Laura has to get up so early to get to the university during the week and to work on Saturday. It wouldn’t be fair to disturb what little rest she gets.

And what about your maid, Kathleen? Wasn’t your plan that she start to sleep in the nursery at night?

Yes, that was my intention…still is. I guess. But I worry that Kathleen, who works extremely hard during the day, will be short-changed in the hours of sleep she gets.

Aren’t you assuming that she would be as easily awakened as you and have as much difficulty getting back to sleep?

Annie sat silently and thought about the last time this discussion had come up with Kathleen. Her maid had said, If I can share a room with Tilly, I can share a room with the baby. I swear, tiny as that Tilly is, she snores like a man. Besides, I can do something about Abigail’s crying, change her, bring her to you, then go back to sleep. Short of knocking Tilly over the head, there’s nothing I can do.

Dare I take Kathleen at her word?

And your husband, Mrs. Dawson, what does he say?

He says it is my decision.

Annie could hear the resentment in her voice. Nate seemed perfectly capable of sleeping through anything, including his daughter’s cries. He even told Annie that when he did wake up, he found the sight of her nursing Abigail quite comforting, so he didn’t mind being wakened.

But he didn’t have to get up and change the wet diaper, climb back into bed, trying to keep warm while the baby sucked, then take her and put her back into the small crib at the foot of the bed. Knowing that the whole procedure would start all over again in a few hours.

On the other hand, those days were pretty much over, now that Abigail was sleeping longer and needing to nurse less often. So why was she holding on to her resentment?

She knew Nate wouldn’t question her if she decided to move Abigail out of their room.

Then what is stopping you? Dr. Brown said, as if she’d read Annie’s mind.

Annie shrugged. I don’t know. I understand I will need to move her, eventually. There certainly won’t be any good reason for her to be with us at night once she’s weaned.

Do you think your milk is drying up? Dr. Brown asked.

Not really, although I don’t seem to feel the discomfort I used to feel when she went more than two to three hours between feedings.

That’s completely natural. Just as it’s natural that she will start to depend more and more on solid food, Dr. Brown said. In my experience, the child usually knows what’s best. A good number of babies begin to wean themselves starting at this age, if not before. Others can continue to nurse for up to a year or two. Although it may be that in those cases the mother has shifted from nursing to provide their baby with nutrition to nursing to provide comfort.

Comfort for the baby or the mother?

Dr. Brown laughed and said, I suspect both. However, most women can’t afford the time to nurse that long—they have too many other responsibilities.

There’s the rub. Everyone, including Nate, seemed to think she should be glad that she had few pressing duties to take her from her responsibilities as a mother. And she was grateful that she had Mrs. O’Rourke, Kathleen, and Tilly to keep the boardinghouse running smoothly. A real blessing during the first months when all she was able to accomplish was to nurse Abigail and then sleep when the baby slept. Her brain had been too fuzzy to do anything else.

Since then, she had started to pick back up the daily reading of the stack of local, state, and national newspapers she subscribed to so that she could stay up-to-date with all the economic news. This reading was the bread and butter of her business, which was to give advice to clients on how to invest and manage their incomes. However, more often than not, it would take her all day to go through the papers she used to read in just a few hours. She would either be interrupted by something that needed to be done for Abigail, or she fell asleep, right in the middle of a sentence.

At least she had begun to meet with a few clients again this fall. However, she couldn’t help but notice that most of those former clients who began to make appointments with her again were women. The men had been slower to return, much slower.

Although, perhaps the fault was her own.

Once she had moved away from giving advice as Madam Sibyl, Annie’s normal pattern before she became pregnant had been to meet clients away from the boardinghouse as much as possible, at their homes or places of business. After Abigail’s birth, this would have required her either to leave Abigail behind, which she was loath to do, or bring Abigail with her. The few female clients she had started seeing again were amenable to her bringing Abigail with her. However, too many of her male clients already had seemed embarrassed to admit that they were getting business advice from a woman, much less one who was carrying around a child. As a result, most of her communications with male clients since Abigail’s birth had been through correspondence.

Yet, in her years meeting clients as Madam Sibyl, the pretend clairvoyant, she had learned that the information she gained about a person in face-to-face meetings was priceless. Was a client scared of risk? Excited to try something new? Did they prefer investments in something tangible like property? Did they need a rapid infusion of capital or could they benefit most from a longer-term strategy?

It was hard to learn this sort of thing through a business letter, particularly with a new client. In addition, it was practically impossible to do a company audit from afar. This meant that her opportunities with women clients were also limited. A shame, because doing audits for women who ran their own companies or ran charitable boards had been one of the fastest-growing segments of her business before she had Abigail.

With a start, Annie realized she’d been silent a long time. She looked up and saw a quizzical smile on the doctor’s face, but Dr. Brown didn’t say anything—a tactic Annie had perfected as Madam Sibyl. It was amazing what a person would say in order to fill a silence.

Gathering her courage, Annie said, I guess I’m afraid my life won’t ever get back to normal. I’d been so sure that after the baby came I would be able to take up my business where I had left off. Despite what everyone said. But I’m having trouble focusing, so I don’t get much done during the day.

"And why do you suppose you’re having trouble focusing?" the doctor responded.

Annie laughed and said, I know, I know, the lack of a decent night’s sleep isn’t helping. But I’m not sure Abigail waking me up is the main problem. Once I am awake, I find myself fretting. And it’s not just the financial worry over what it means if my work doesn’t pick up. My husband’s law practice is doing well, but I hate that he is working such long hours, which means he has little time to spend with either me or Abigail.

If it isn’t concern about your finances, what is it?

"I don’t know! That’s the problem, Annie said. Everyone keeps telling me how happy I must be, how they envy me, what a joy it must be to be a mother. But I’m not happy, and I don’t know why."

Dr. Brown looked down at the papers in front of her for a moment before saying, Do you know much about my personal history?

Annie was startled. I know you’re married, with children. And I know you got your medical degree eight years ago…it was from the Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania, wasn’t it?

Annie had noticed the diploma on the waiting room wall the first time she came to see Dr. Brown, as well as the certificates that stated that Dr. Charlotte Blake Brown was a member of both the California and San Francisco medical societies.

Both my father and my brother attended the University of California’s medical school—the one that had been Toland College. But I had to go back east because the University of California wouldn’t permit women to attend the medical school until 1874. By that time, I already had my medical degree.

Annie nodded. My sister-in-law Laura has a friend who has just started at the university’s medical school. I believe she is one of only three women currently enrolled. From what Laura has said, I don’t think Miss Sutton is finding her fellow students, or the faculty, very supportive. I imagine that an all-female institution like the one you attended might have been different.

Yes, that was certainly an incentive for me to go there. But what you may not know is that in order to get that medical degree, I had to leave my three children behind. All of them were under the age of five at the time, including my youngest, Harriet, who had just been born.

Oh…

It was the hardest thing I have ever done, and most of my friends and family couldn’t understand how I could leave them…why I couldn’t wait at least until they were older.

"That must have been difficult," Annie said, wondering if she could have done the same thing.

It helped that I knew they would be in good hands, being raised by my mother. When she was about my age, she and my father went to Chile as missionaries, taking me with them. She understood that becoming a doctor was my calling, just as being a missionary had been hers.

And she supported the idea of you leaving your children behind?

"Yes, she did. She told me that while she didn’t regret her years as a missionary, she felt that dragging me to Chile hadn’t been in my best interest. She was also the one who argued that if I needed to pursue my dream to become a doctor that it was better to do so when my children were very young and less likely to question my absence. More importantly, my mother, who is a very wise woman, told me that a temporarily absent parent was less damaging to a child’s well-being than a mother who was present but unhappy. And I was unhappy."

Annie watched as the doctor seemed caught in her own—sad—memories.

Dr. Brown sighed, then she smiled and said, You see, I had discovered that, while I wanted to work in a profession where I could help keep other people’s children healthy and happy, most of the mundane tasks that went into raising my own young infants bored me to tears. I love my children; I really do! And now that they are older and I can engage with them more, I find I have more patience. But overall…well, perhaps you know what I am talking about.

Annie burst into tears.

Minutes later, after wiping her eyes and taking a long drink from the glass of water Dr. Brown had poured for her, she said, Do you think there are other women who feel this way?

I assure you there are. Probably far more than would ever admit it.

I just don’t understand why I get so irritated with Abigail when she cries. Even Nate, coming home from a twelve-hour day at the office, has more patience with her.

I suspect that for your husband, after a long day of work, spending time with Abigail is a pleasant break in his routine. In addition, he knows as soon as he gets tired of her or she gets too fussy, he can hand her over to you without a bit of guilt.

Annie nodded. This would help explain why she felt so resentful as she lay awake at night, listening to his peaceful breathing, angry at his easy ability to sleep. This, in turn, made her feel even more guilty, even more unworthy as a wife and mother.

Dr. Brown said, I’m not suggesting you should run off to the East Coast, and as long as you are nursing—the one thing you can do for her that no one else can—you shouldn’t push yourself too hard. I do think that you could move Abigail into the nursery and let Kathleen, who is a born nurturer if I ever saw one, take over more of the responsibilities caring for Abigail. Then you can go about rebuilding your business.

Suddenly feeling as if a great weight had been lifted off of her chest, Annie said, If I started making more money, then I could afford to raise Kathleen’s wages, to compensate for her extra duties. Dr. Brown, you have no idea how much better I feel. How can I possibly repay you?

Well, Mrs. Dawson, there is one thing you could do for me. Dr. Brown hesitated, fiddling with the papers on her desk.

Finally, she said, Now that I know you’re anxious to get back to work…it really does seem fortuitous that you came by today. You see, the Pacific Dispensary for Women and Children, an institution that is near and dear to my heart, is facing a problem…a problem that I think you may be able to help me solve.

CHAPTER 3

Wednesday evening, February 22, 1882

O’Farrell Street Boardinghouse

Nate, Dr. Brown wants me to do an auditing job for her, Annie said as she scooped up a small spoonful of porridge and slid it into her daughter’s mouth. She was sitting at the round table by their bedroom bay window with Abigail in her lap. Her husband sat across from her eating his late dinner—a roast beef sandwich, with a side of pickles and a handful of fresh oatmeal cookies.

Nate had arrived home only a few minutes earlier, late again, from the law offices of Hobbes, Cranston, and Dawson. Hobbes was his Uncle Frank, his mother’s brother and the senior partner of the firm who specialized in property law. Cranston was Able Cranston, one of the most sought-after criminal lawyers in the city. Nate was the third partner in the firm, and he was making his own name as a successful divorce attorney.

As the junior partner, her husband was expected to do most of the routine scut work, deeds of property, execution of wills, simple trusts. It paid the bills, but it was boring and time consuming, which was one of the reasons he got home after eight most evenings, just as Annie was getting Abigail ready for bed.

After her conversation with Dr. Brown, Annie decided to move their daughter into the nursery, only not tonight. She wanted to make sure Kathleen was really going to be all right with the change. With a pang, she realized this might be the last night she would go to sleep to the sound of her daughter’s snuffles and gurgles. She’d miss that, but she had to admit it would be nice to start spending the early evening hours talking to her husband in a normal voice, instead of practically whispering so as not to wake the baby.

Taking a swallow of cider, Nate said, That’s splendid news about the job. You’ve never done an audit for a physician before, have you?

No, but this isn’t for her private practice. It’s for the Pacific Dispensary for Women and Children. Dr. Brown and two other female doctors, Dr. Wanzer and Dr. Bucknell, founded this institution six or seven years ago. I know I mentioned this to you when I first started seeing Dr. Brown.

I remember, Nate said as Annie speared a slice of pickle from his plate. You told me that this Pacific Dispensary is a place where poor people go to get medical care and that its permanent staff is all female?

Annie thought how fortunate she was to have a husband who actually listened to her. From what many of the women she advised confided to her, this was a rare quality in a spouse.

That’s exactly right. While there are a good number of other medical facilities in the city that specialize in women’s health, like the Lying-in Hospital, all the others are staffed primarily by male doctors. Dr. Brown is very proud of the multiple roles their institution plays, both as a dispensary where poorer women can walk in and get free medical care for themselves and their children, but also as a hospital. The hospital wards take in children up to the age of twelve, maternity patients, and women who have severe illnesses. They also perform surgeries, often on wealthier women who don’t want to go to one of the larger hospitals and prefer to be treated primarily by women. These paying patients help subsidize the charitable work the Pacific Dispensary does.

And Dr. Brown wants you to audit their books?

Yes, their treasurer suddenly resigned this morning. One of the things she was supposed to have done, but didn’t, was hire a professional auditor. The dispensary by-laws say that there needs to be a financial report given at their annual board meeting, which is to be held March 15.

That’s three weeks away. Shouldn’t be difficult for you to complete. Their finances can’t be all that complicated. And you’ve done the books for several charities before. I can’t imagine this one is much different.

That’s what I told Dr. Brown, but she said that the dispensary books are in a bit of a mess. Dr. Brown wasn’t specific, but she implied that Argenta Branting, the treasurer who just resigned, was highly unorganized. To make matters worse, the woman tended to take offense if anyone asked her about the dispensary finances. Something I can very well believe.

You know this Mrs. Branting?

Not personally, but I got a glimpse of her leaving Dr. Brown’s office. I must say she seemed an unpleasant woman. And Dr. Brown didn’t think that she would be willing to answer any of my questions, which will make the job more difficult. In addition, Dr. Brown and Dr. Wanzer, a co-founder of the dispensary, are leaving this weekend for a tour back east of other female-run dispensaries. They won’t return until just a couple of days before the board meeting, so I can’t depend on them for help.

Nate abruptly leaned over and wiped his daughter’s chin with his napkin. Annie looked down and saw that Abigail had managed to push most of the porridge back out of her mouth with her tongue, and the glutinous cereal was everywhere.

Oh, Abigail, what a mess! Here, let’s see if you can keep this spoonful in your mouth long enough to swallow some of it.

This time, Annie put a thumb gently up to her daughter’s mouth, pushing the porridge back in as quickly as Abigail tried to expel it. Abigail chuckled, clearly seeing this as an excellent new game. Once Annie felt she got her to swallow enough of the cereal, she took off the bib and used it to wipe off her daughter’s chin.

Handing Abigail over to Nate, she said, Time for you to entertain her. I’ll take your plate and her bowl down to the kitchen. I need to ask Mrs. O’Rourke about tomorrow’s order for the grocers. When I get back, I can tell you the rest. Because to solve the dispensary’s problems, Dr. Brown may need your services, not just mine.

Nate couldn’t get enough of gazing at his wife and child together. Annie had just finished nursing Abigail, and the baby’s curls mingled with his wife’s own as his daughter lay against her mother’s shoulder. As Annie patted the baby gently on her back, she quietly sang I Gave My Love a Cherry, which called up Nate’s own childhood memories of his mother singing that lullaby to his younger sister, Laura. All the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders simply drained away.

Work today hadn’t gone well. The law firm’s full-time clerk had misfiled some documents that put Nate seriously behind in getting a trust ready to be signed. Then, in his rush, he made two errors of his own, which necessitated that the document be completely rewritten. This, in turn, meant that he’d had to work right through lunch and dinner again, in order to do the preparation needed for a preliminary hearing in court in the morning. As it was, he was still going to have to put in a few more hours before he came to bed.

But being here, now, with these two, made everything worthwhile.

Annie looked up and smiled, and his heart did its familiar flutter.

She is so lovely.

For once, she didn’t look tired, and he’d been glad to hear the excitement in her voice as she told him about Dr. Brown’s request that she help straighten out the financial mess at the Pacific Dispensary.

As Annie got up and carried the now-sleeping Abigail over to the small crib they kept at the foot of the bed, she whispered, Let’s go down to our office. Kathleen has volunteered to sit up here with Abigail to make sure she’s solidly asleep. She said she needed to do some mending. I will finish telling you about what I learned from Dr. Brown before you start back to work. I am correct that you weren’t planning on coming to bed anytime soon, aren’t I?

Nate shrugged. This was a never-ending argument between the two of them. Maybe if Annie had this new puzzle to work on, she wouldn’t resent his working such long hours.

He said, You mentioned something I could do for Dr. Brown? I’m not sure I have the…

Annie glared at him and said, Shh. Don’t you dare wake Abigail! If you would turn down the lamp on the table and ring Kathleen, I will follow you down in a moment and tell you all about it.

CHAPTER 4

As Annie came down the stairs to join Nate in their office, she thought about when she first inherited the O’Farrell Street house from her aunt and how she had turned the small informal parlor on the first floor into Madam Sibyl’s domain. There, for over two years, she met clients and pretended that the domestic and financial advice she gave came from reading clients’ palms or casting their horoscopes. She had needed Madam Sibyl’s income to supplement the money she made from turning the old home into a boardinghouse. In time, she had grown more and more uncomfortable with the pretense this required. In addition, she was afraid if she finally agreed to marry Nate and word of what she was doing got out, it would hurt his chance to build a successful legal career.

Now that they were married, the room acted as their joint office. Before Abigail, she had met some clients here and during the day did her economic research, while Nate tended to