“But he died of a heart attack,” Mr. Collins. “Not pneumonia.”
“If the embolus is overlapping the bifurcation of the pulmonary trunk, then that’s indicative of a blood clot,” Grace said. “The cause of death may be a heart attack, but it was due to the complications suffered from pneumonia.”
“Are you saying that if Mr. Ferguson didn’t have pneumonia, he’d still be alive?” One of the other men scoffed. “He had a history of heart issues. Long documented.”
“I’m not contesting that,” Grace said calmly. “All I’m saying is that there isn’t a single answer to Mr. Ferguson’s demise, or at least, there is a secondary cause.”
Several students glanced at one another and then down at Dr. Cameron, who, for all intents and purposes, appeared equal parts annoyed and satisfied. James was standing at the head of the table, his face covered with a cloth, so it wasn’t possible to see his face, but Grace noted the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He was pleased.
Dr. Cameron rolled his eyes and sighed out loud, making sure his frustration was noted by the entire class. Including Grace.
“Which is precisely what we set out to learn at the beginning of this lesson,” Dr. Cameron said, as he turned to the assistant, who began removing his leather gloves and robe. “Do not let the most obvious answer be the only answer, gentlemen, or you will find yourself outsmarted by a woman.”
Though the class seemed irritated at this, the distinct sound of a single laugh came from James’s direction, causing Grace’s cheeks to burn. Thankfully, it seemed that the class was over as the students began to stand up and shuffle out of the room. Grace stood and with a jerk of his head, James directed her to follow the others, which she did, only to be met by Mr. Collins and Mr. Roberts.
She gave them a small smile, hoping to go around them, but Mr. Roberts was quick to put himself in front of her, causing her to stop abruptly.
“Miss Sharpe, was it?” he asked, extending a hand. “I’m Mr. John Roberts. This is Mr. William Collins.”
Unable to avoid it, Grace took his hand, surprised by the rough shake that he gave her.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Roberts. Mr. Collins. I’m Miss Grace Sharpe,” she said, pulling her hand back with a good amount of force before being released. “Are you students of Dr. Cameron?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Two years now,” Mr. Collins said. “We’re just about to start our apprenticeships, but er, you’ve already begun yours, it would seem?”
“Yes,” she said. “I wasn’t permitted to any universities unfortunately and have been apprenticing for the past year and a half.”
“Not with Dr. Hall. I’ve not seen you here before and he’s a bit of a reputation for keeping his apprentices close.”
“No, I’ve only just started with Dr. Hall. My mentor, Dr. Barkley, has been overseeing my studies.”
“Dr. Barkley?” Mr. Collins said, his brow pinched. “The country doctor from Glencoe?”
“Yes, the very same.”
“Er, not to discount what I’m sure are shining credentials, but Andersen University is on the cutting edge of modern medicine. This isn’t a school for common country folk.”
Grace tilted her head.
“Are country folk not susceptible to all the maladies of people who live in the city?”
“What Mr. Collins means is, we’re not herbalists here. This is a school for surgery, for the progress of medical sciences. There’s no bloodletting or potions done in this facility and I’m not sure a lady, particularly one who’s studied beneath someone like Dr. Barkley, quite fits in here.”
“Yes, it would probably be best for you to try nursing or something less complicated,” Mr. Collins said, a smug appearance in his eyes.
To diminish the profession of nursing was inexcusable to Grace, particularly when it was nurses who did the majority of patient care. But Grace was used to being underestimated and rarely cared about the opinions of others when it came to herself. Still, to her surprise, her heart began to beat irregularly and the back of her neck prickled with hostility.
“Say what you will about me, sirs, but Dr. Barkley is a brilliant man, one of whom either one of you would be lucky to study under, although I can say with certainty that he would have neither of you.”
Mr. Roberts glowered.
“Oh? And why’s that?”
“Because medicine, according to Dr. Barkley, requires patience, perseverance, and possibility. It is why they call what we do a practice and not a perfect.”
“What we do?” Mr. Roberts scoffed. “Be aware, my lady, that we do not do the same things. Mr. Collins and I are to be surgeons and you will likely be some sort of children’s nurse. As you should, considering the delicate nature of the fairer sex.”
