For Mina’s part, there was the kitchen: tea and cake, as often as not, and the company of the servants. The pain that became alarmingly sharp when Mina was by herself was at least duller in company, and she was coming to enjoy the servants for their own sake, as well.
From a sensible perspective, everything was going very well. Mina wished she could have felt happier about it. That would probably take time.
“Speaking of doctors,” she said into the silence, with a quick glance back at her letter to refresh what she already knew, “Mum says they’re putting in one of those charity clinics a few streets down from us. She also says—heavily underlined, I might add—that one of the doctors there is a lady.”
“I’ve heard of those,” said Mrs. Hennings, cutting herself a slice of cake. “No wonder she’s practicing at a charity, though. Can you imagine anyone with a choice going to a woman?”
“Especially a gentleman,” said Emily, and bit back a giggle under Mrs. Baldwin’s stern expression.
“My father’s of the same opinion,” said Mina. She glanced back at the letter, read between the lines, and smiled. “My mother isn’t going to contradict him openly, but I suspect she’s mostly glad to have a doctor nearby, whatever her sex. Florrie thinks it’s a wonderful idea, though. I’d imagine she’s already started dissecting her old dolls.”
That got a laugh.
“I think it’s a splendid notion,” said Polly, and tossed her champagne curls. “I’ve had quite enough of having to”—she glanced around to make sure Mr. Baldwin was nowhere on the premises and lowered her voice—“to undress in front of some strange bloke.Andhis assistant, like as not. I know they’re not supposed to care, but they’re men, aren’t they? Sometimes I think I might as well go on the halls and get paid for it, instead of handing over half a week’s wages.”
“Polly!” said Mrs. Baldwin, switching the target of her glare, and the housemaid blushed.
“I’ll have you know my sister works at the Gaiety—taking tickets, not anything else,” said Mrs. Hennings, “and it’s very respectable now.”
Polly sniffed. “You know what I mean. What do you think of it, Mina?”
“Music halls or lady doctors?” Mina shrugged. “The halls are a jolly good time, though I wouldn’t go on them myself. I’d get stage fright something fierce, for one, and I don’t think I can sing more than passably well.”
“And the lady doctors?” Mrs. Baldwin asked. “What’s your thinking about them?”
“I don’t know,” Mina said. “In principle it’s sound enough. I can’t think of a reason a woman can’t be a doctor, and a good one. But it’s new, and I’d be wary of anything new, especially where medicine’s concerned.” She looked down at her teacup and saw her reflection: sleek hair, crisp collar, very much the New Woman. “Now is when we say something about pots and kettles,” she added.
“Well, I wasna’ about to mention it myself,” said Mrs. Baldwin. “We’ve enough nurses and midwives and that at home, of course, and half of them take charge when the doctor’s too far—we’ve a great deal of ground to cover, of course—or too new. I recall hearing as how one young sawbones fainted the first time a birth got messy, and the midwife poured the whole kettle of water over his head. It hadn’t but started to warm yet, thank God.”
Women among the dragons took on different roles, Mina remembered. Stephen had talked about one of his sisters fighting in a battle, and she’d found a few older and less-well-labeled books, journals from the look of them, that suggested as much, as well as other things about dragons. In a land where they had ruled for centuries and where they’d done a great deal to keep out the rest of the world, perhaps their attitudes had spread even to those who were entirely mortal.
“Must be hard,” said Mrs. Hennings, “living so far away. With so much distance between people, that is.”
“Betimes it is,” said Mrs. Baldwin. “But we’re great walkers and fair riders, at that, and we’ve always been welcome into the great house if there’s a storm. His lairdship’s father and then his lairdship and now Lady Judith have always put up a good meal for it. Sometimes they’ll have a dance or a bit of a play, and these days they’ll play the gramophone. So the distance doesn’t seem so far. There’s been talk of putting a railway station in nearby, at that.” She poured herself another cup of tea.
“Would you want that?” asked Emily. “All those people coming in?”
“No, though I suppose it wouldn’t really matter. We don’t have much to make them stay, so they’d just drop off a few goods and leave. And I wouldn’t mind coming back to Londonsometimes,” Mrs. Baldwin said, very severe on the last word, “to see the sights.”
“You won’t be staying here?” Polly asked.
“Not forever, most likely. I’d imagine they’ll have the house kept open, of course, and come up from time to time as business demands, or for the Season.”
“He’d have to come up for the Season,” said Mrs. Hennings. “Oldest son and not married? They must be at him with hot irons.”
The cake felt very thick in Mina’s mouth. She swallowed it, a slow and painful process, and gulped too-hot tea until she could speak again. “We don’t know that he isn’t married. Or hasn’t been.”
“He hasn’t,” said Mrs. Baldwin, “but he’s not likely to take a wife from the London debutantes.”
“Poor fragile things,” said Mrs. Hennings. “They’d never survive a winter in Scotland. And he hasn’t seemed terribly concerned, at that. Does his family generally choose ladies somewhere nearer home?”
Mina didn’t let herself look away from the conversation. She did put her teacup down as casually as she could, while she waited to hear Mrs. Baldwin’s answer.
No answer came. The bell for the study rang before Mrs. Baldwin could speak, and the housekeeper excused herself to attend the call.
“The Season,” said Emily, when Mrs. Baldwin had gone. “Sounds divine, doesn’t it?”
“Sounds uncomfortable,” said Polly. “Not knowing if a man’s dancing with you because he likes you or because he has to. I wouldn’t mind one of those fancy white dresses, though. The kind with the train as long as me.”
