Granted, his own solution wasn’t pain free, though most of his patients had said it was tolerable. And on the plus side, the surgery – if successful – meant they’d never have to endure another cataract operation again. In his opinion, this did seem preferable to always looking forward to someone poking a needle around in your eye once again.
“Redding tells me you’re in a snit,” Guthrie said when he called on Marcus two days later in his office at St. Agatha’s.
Marcus tossed aside the book he’d been reading and stood to greet his brother-in-law. “I don’t understand stubborn people – least of all those who’d rather suffer, or make others do so, by turning their backs on progress. 1753—that is the year the French Academy of Surgery published Jacques Daviel’s report on the technique he’d developed for cataract extraction. Yet here we are, seventy-five years later, and there are still doctors and surgeons who swear by couching.”
Guthrie crossed to a nearby cabinet where a decanter and glasses stood at the ready. He poured two glasses and handed one to Marcus. “For a man who rarely gets riled up over anything, you seem to be taking Grasmere’s decision to refuse your help pretty badly.”
“The man’s an ass.”
Guthrie grinned. “Can’t argue that. But it’s his daughter. His decision.”
Marcus scrubbed his jaw and sighed as he sank back into his chair. He took a deep swallow of brandy and glanced at Guthrie, who’d propped one shoulder against a bookcase. “It ought to be hers. But she doesn’t strike me as someone who’ll go against her father’s will. She’s too nice, and she’ll let herself suffer for it.”
“You like her,” Guthrie remarked with a smirk.
“I barely know her.”
“Hmm…” Guthrie pushed away from the bookcase and drank his brandy. He set the empty glass on Marcus’s desk. “If you want me to interfere I can probably—”
“No. Thank you. I’m frustrated, that’s all, but I’m sure it will pass.”
“Quickly, I hope, since your line of work does require an optimistic disposition. Being grumpy will not put your patients at ease.”
“Of course not.” Redding had said something similar, but Lady Louise losing her eyesight and Grasmere’s subsequent response were still so fresh in his mind they’d been hard to shake. He had to pull himself together, for the sake of his patients. “My next appointment is in half an hour. I’ll take a brisk walk before then to clear my head and put this debacle behind me.”
Since Louise had no desire to meet with Doctor Pierson, she decided to approach her father and try to reason with him. She was familiar enough with her home not to need assistance moving about – least of all during the day when the rooms were bright enough for her to discern the shapes of furniture and other potential obstructions to her path.
With careful footsteps, she made her way to her father’s study. The door stood slightly ajar, but she knocked all the same.
“Enter.”
Louise’s heart jolted in response to her father’s curt tone. Set in his ways with very firm beliefs, he’d never been an easy man to negotiate with. When she’d been younger, she’d always faced him together with her siblings, from whom she’d drawn strength and courage. But since they’d moved away from home, she now had to handle her father alone.
She stepped through the door and approached the oblong shape of the desk behind which he sat. His movements suggested he might be writing.
“Yes?” he inquired. “What is it?”
Louise took a deep breath and tried to ignore the knot in the pit of her stomach. “I’d like you to meet with Mr. Berkly in order to—”
“You know my position, Louise. There’s nothing more to discuss.”
“Papa.” Swallowing, Louise took another step forward. “I’ve never asked for anything, but I am doing so now. Please. This is my eyesight we’re talking about.”
“And Mr. Pierson will fix it on Wednesday. Recovery won’t take more than a week, which means you won’t have to miss many social functions.”
“But—”
“Damnit, Louise. I’ll not discuss the matter further.”
“I don’t see what harm there is in hearing Mr. Berkly out.” When her father said nothing, she quietly added, “Mr. Pierson’s method doesn’t last.”
“It is the method all prominent doctors adhere to.”
“The Duke of Redding doesn’t.”
“The Duke of Redding, as capable as he may be, is the sort of surgeon who’d leap at the chance to operate on a man’s brain if there were a slim chance it would lead to him being mentioned in some prestigious medical journal. Point being, he’s a risk-taker – one we’d do well to steer clear of when it comes to our health.”
“I just—”
“If that is all, I have work to do.”
Knowing there was nothing more to be said or done to sway her father’s position, Louise left the study and returned upstairs to her room. Tears threatened to fall, but she forced them back by sheer will. She would not cry, no matter how helpless she felt at the moment. She’d rather try to find a way out of this mess.
Expelling a shuddering breath, she stiffened her spine and called for her maid.
“I wish to visit my brother,” Louise told Hannah when she arrived.
“I know it’s not my place to say so, miss, but wouldn’t it be best to wait with social calls until your sight gets better?”
“No, it would not.” Louise sighed. “Forgive me, Hannah, I do not mean to be terse with you. I’m in a bit of a mood because of the state I’m in.”
“You needn’t apologize, miss. I’d probably want to bite someone’s head off as well if I were in your position.” She opened the wardrobe door. “Which spencer would you like?”
“The green one, please.”
Hannah helped Louise into it, then brought her a bonnet and gloves. Once Louise was ready, the maid collected her own outer garments and the pair set off arm in arm with Hannah guiding Louise’s steps. Albert’s house wasn’t far – no more than a ten minute walk at most.
“His lordship will be with you in a moment,” the butler informed Louise once he’d shown her into the parlor.
A tea tray was brought in but Louise ignored it. To her relief, it didn’t take long before Albert joined her.
“I wish I could say it’s good to see you,” Louise said in an effort to set a light tone for their ensuing conversation.
“The fact that you’re even capable of joking right now is a testament to your strength of spirit.” Sitting next to her, Albert took her hand. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this again.”
“If Papa has his way, I’ll be destined to do so indefinitely. And trust me, Albert, I’m making a very big effort to look like I’m not about to unravel, but the truth is, I’m scared.”
“I would be too if I were you.” He squeezed her hand as if in support. “What did you mean just now, about Papa having his way?”
“Well, as it turns out, there’s another option for me – a permanent one that could ensure better eyesight without my having to worry about repeat operations. But Papa refuses to discuss it.”