“has acute diarrhea, but it’s not the Asiatic cholera. I know the difference.”
How could he sound so positive? Had any of them seen enough of this new breed of disease to be able to tell?
“I had a patient, a Mr. Fenton-Smith, die from what I believe was the cholera, but that must have been an isolated case as well. He has offices along Holborn. Always a little questionable over there.”
“Which makes me ever grateful to have a practice located near Hyde Park,” said Peterson smugly.
A patient at James’s right cried out, a twisting scream of agony, and he clutched his abdomen. The ward mistress hurried over to calm the man.
Peterson’s quick glance dismissed the fellow. “Kidney inflammation from the stones. Screams like that every ten minutes.” He stopped and stared at James. “You’re not really bothered about this cholera nonsense, are you? A sporadic outbreak is to be expected, but we’re not dealing with an epidemic.”
“I would be more at ease if I had a clue how to cure it.”
“As I tell my students here, chalk mixture and opium ought to take care of the cholera. Simple enough.” He patted James’s arm. “I’ve got to be off—shouldn’t even be here on a Sunday. The wife is furious, but what’s to be done? Disease doesn’t respect the Lord’s Sabbath. You know, Edmunds, if flare-ups of the cholera bother you, be thankful you’re not a physician on the East Side. Take comfort in your little corner of lovely Belgravia. Speaking of which, if you change your mind about giving your practice over to Dr. Castleton, I would always be interested.”
Not likely to ever happen . . . “I shall keep that in mind.”
The other man winked. “See you out?”
Slapping his hat atop his head, James accompanied Peterson out of the hospital. He sucked in the outside air to clear his lungs of the smell of disease. He had learned what he’d come to find out—the cholera hadn’t reached the western parts of London, so far spreading only to those who had been exposed through poor habits or poor choices. There was nothing to worry about, just as he’d told Sophia.
“Fine day” Peterson glanced around at the passing traffic. “See? Everyone looking healthy, life proceeding as normal among the upright and the strong. Not logical to be concerned about the cholera. Not logical at all.”
“I know it isn’t logical.” James frowned. “But now to convince my gut.”
CHAPTER 16
Rachel was packing the doctor’s collection of botanical books when he strode into the library.
“Miss Dunne. Working on a Sunday?” He had just come in from outside, his hat and gloves clutched in his right hand. He ran his fingers through his hair to tame a few wayward locks. Which never worked for long. “It’s a day of rest for you.”
“I have taken too much time away from my tasks of late, Dr. Edmunds.” Rachel tidied the topmost books and forced herself not to stare at him, notice how handsome he looked in his deep green coat and buff trousers, his shoes polished to a gleam. “And since we leave for Finchingfield in the morning, I thought it best to finish this set of shelves and not have to worry over it while we are gone.”
His gaze scanned the bookshelves. Most of them were empty, dust tracing the outlines of departed books. “You’ve accomplished quite a lot. It seems to me you can take an hour away from your chores and visit the apple girl. If you still want to go, that is.”
“I do.” Truthfully, her mind had not been much on her work. Between worrying about Molly and the threat from the cholera, Rachel hadn’t been able to concentrate on Milne’s Botanical Dictionary or Dr. Stokes’s Botanical Materia Medica. She might not have even logged them properly.
“I do indeed wish to see how she is doing,” Rachel answered firmly.
“Good.” Dr. Edmunds slapped his hat against his thigh. “I’ll have Joe get the gig ready, and I’ll meet you out at the mews.”
Once he left, Rachel untied her apron and hurried to fetch her bonnet and shawl. She paused in front of the hallway mirror just long enough to check the condition of her hair.
He waited for her at the door in the garden wall that led into the mews-house.
“I’ve heard from the surgeon that her arm is setting well.” Dr. Edmunds ushered Rachel inside, the pungent sweet-musty odor of straw and oats and horse greeting her nose. They passed into the open mews beyond, where