“Of course.” Harriet sat near her and placed the vial on the inlaid table. As Mrs. Schuyler counted out several bills, Harriet said, “Mrs. Schuyler. Dora, if I may call you that, since you have trusted me with your secret. Do you have someone to be with you when you take this tincture?”
“My maid will be with me. She always is. That is, not today, but almost always.”
“And does she know you’re here, and why?”
“No,” Dora Schuyler said. She dropped her head and stared into her open purse. “No one knows but you.”
“You can’t trust her?”
Dora shook her head. “I’m not sure. She might—she’s capable of telling my husband. She always seems to need money.”
“How are you going to explain? This is going to make you very ill.”
Dora shook her head again and raised a face full of misery to Harriet. “I thought—well, I hoped I could tell her my monthlies are particularly bad. They often are.”
“Ah. There are some things that can help with that, but we can address the problem at a later date. In the meantime you will have to hide from your maid just how bad your pain is. I haven’t experienced the effects of an emmenagogue myself—”
“A what?”
“An emmenagogue. An abortifacient.”
“Oh.”
“As I said, I haven’t experienced the effects, but my patients have described it to me. It’s a bit of a misery, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve had two babies.”
“Yes, I remember. It will be something like that.” Harriet took a piece of tissue paper from a drawer under the table. She wrapped the vial and handed it to Dora. “Take it all at once. It’s probably best if you take it in the late morning, so the worst of it will take place in the hours of darkness, when most of your household is asleep.” As Dora accepted the paper-wrapped vial, Harriet warned, “If you seem to be in too much distress, I fear your maid will alert your husband, and he will call for a doctor.”
“Oh, a doctor… oh no, I can’t see a doctor.”
“You’re right. A doctor will most certainly recognize what is happening.”
The flush on Dora’s cheeks faded in an instant, and she swayed as if she might fall. Harriet moved closer to take the woman’s arm to hold her upright. “There now, Dora,” she said. “You have been brave in coming to me. Now you must be brave a little longer. Twenty-four hours, no more. Your confinements doubtless took more time.”
“Yes,” Dora whispered. “They seemed to go on forever.”
“I should warn you, also, that you may never conceive again.”
“I have two children already. It’s enough.”
“Very well, then. I think I’ve told you everything.”
“You can’t give me anything for pain, Miss Bishop? My doctors gave me laudanum when I delivered my children.”
“There is a risk the tincture will not be effective if you counter it with a palliative. I’m very sorry.”
Dora nodded, closed her purse, and pushed herself to her feet. Harriet stood with her, releasing her arm with reluctance. She recognized the pain in Dora’s eyes. It was a pain that would last far longer than the suffering of the actual event. Dora Schuyler didn’t want to do this. She had no choice, no other path. Harriet feared the young woman’s spirit might never fully recover.
“I suppose you think I’m disgusting,” Dora said in a thin voice.
“Of course I do not,” Harriet said. “I think you’re human.”
“But ladies—nice women, well brought up—we’re not supposed to be…” Dora’s voice faltered, and she made a half-hearted gesture with her hand.
Harriet supplied, “Passionate?”
“Yes.” The word was a breath, no more.
“Forgive me for being blunt, Dora, but that’s nonsense. We are no less passionate than the men we love. The trouble is that when women love, they bear the greater burden. It has always been that way, I’m afraid.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Dora’s breath whistled in her tight throat, and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “I thank you, Miss Bishop. I was desperate.”
“I know.” Harriet put out her hand, and they shook. Dora Schuyler’s hand felt heartbreakingly fragile in Harriet’s strong one.
“Shall I—May I come to see you again?”
“Of course you may, and I hope you will, but wait a good while. Months. Neither of us benefits if someone makes a connection between us.”
“I understand.”
Harriet rang the silver bell on the side table, and Grace came to see Dora out. When she was gone, Harriet walked to the tall windows that looked to the north, where a gay sunny sky mocked