James pulled his coat on, one sleeve at a time.
“Correct.” When Grace didn’t answer, he glanced at her and all the irritability that had been in his gaze moments ago had vanished. “You’re not opposed to cadavers, are you?”
“Not at all.”
“Shall we then?” she said as she pulled on her own coat, only to be stilled by the touch of James’s hand on her hip.
“We’re not finished discussing your experiment, Grace,” he breathed into her ear, causing her to take a deep breath. “Not by far.”
And though Grace exited his office demonstrating a composure of complete indifference, a world of turmoil rolled within her.
Chapter Ten
The operating theaterof Andersen University was on the top floor of the building, in a room known as the sun garret. Several large windows had been installed in the ceiling to allow the natural light of the day to shine down on the surgical table that was surrounded by ten circular rows of terraced bench seating and wooden railing.
The room was surprisingly cool, considering how warm the rest of the school was, having climbed the six stories to reach the surgical theater, and while the entire autopsy had been going on for nearly an hour, Grace felt as though she were the cadaver.
As the only woman in an audience of about twenty other young men, she had been sat on the far side of the room, on the top of the tenth row, where the curtain that had been drawn to highlight the operation for the other students partially blocked her view. It was disadvantageous to say the least, but it was the only place the lead physician, a Dr. Cameron, allowed Grace to sit, as he was outraged that she was in attendance.
James had argued on her behalf, but only just as she had instantly climbed the stairs to take the seat Dr. Cameron had offered. She wasn’t interested in arguing, particularly when she could be removed from the theater completely and so took what was offered without hesitating, ignoring the discontentment displayed on James’s face as he gazed up at her from the side of the operating table.
He and Dr. Cameron were dressed in white robes by an assistant. And his wasn’t the only displeased glare she had to suffer. When the other medical students arrived, they had all glared at her. They pointed in her direction and whispered to one another, appearing agitated, if not downright hostile at her presence, but then the autopsy had begun and their ire turned to curiosity.
Still, every minute or so, one would sneer at her, as if it was unbelievable that she was there and in truth, it was.
But she couldn’t keep allowing her focus to be drawn away from the task at hand, so she straightened her shoulders and leaned to her left, hoping to get a better view.
“And here we finally have the heart,” Dr. Cameron said. His aged, narrow face appeared almost bored. “As you can see, there is a slight discoloration, indicating that it was damaged in its final moments. The organ itself is enlarged, which according to our medical records of Mr. Ferguson, indicates what, Mr. Jones?”
A short, round man with long sideburns stood up.
“Heart disease, doctor.”
“Correct, and what other evidence might we discover that would lead to a diagnosis of heart disease? Mr. Collins?”
“A build-up of plaques in the arteries.”
“Correct,” Dr. Cameron said, pleasing the red-headed Mr. Collins. “However, if we examine the lungs, there is some fluid in the air sacs. What is this an indication of, Mr. Roberts?”
A dark-haired man sitting next to Mr. Collins frowned.
“Pulmonary embolism?”
“Incorrect, Mr. Roberts. Anyone have an idea?”
Grace went to raise her hand, but remembering that she wasn’t readily in view of the attending doctors, as well as the glares she received from across the room, she lowered her hand.
“Miss Sharpe?” James’s voice spoke, loud and clear.
Grace’s cheeks warmed as she stared down at the center of the theater. James was watching her, the smallest of nods sent in her direction as if to buoy her confidence, while twenty young men above him stared daggers at her.
“Dr. Hall, there is no need to involve the lady,” Dr. Cameron said.
“It’s evidence of pneumonia,” she answered loudly. “If Mr. Ferguson was ill with pneumonia at the time of his death, which is indicated by the state of his lungs, then it is likely what brought on the heart attack.”
“How so?” James asked.
“The body’s inflammatory response to pneumonia likely caused the plaque to break away from the artery, causing clots to form.”
