“Successful surgery?” Dr. Adams called. He’d spotted Daniel’s stained hands, held up in the distinctive pose of doctors protecting their shirt cuffs, as he strode down the hallway.
“Uneventful, yes. Just removing the ball from an accidental shot.” Daniel nodded to the two doctors with Adams. He knew them only obliquely, as neither were surgeons.
He stepped forward, but none of them moved aside to let him through. “I should clean my hands before the blood dries,” Daniel said with a smile.
“Of course.” Adams smoothed his beard. “We were just discussing the petition.”
Daniel’s fingers curled toward his palms. “What petition?” He’d been involved in more than his share of hospital infighting. If something was brewing, he intended to stay far away—didn’t want even a whiff of it.
“There was an article in theProvincialabout an unusual delivery…”
Daniel’s stomach sank a good six inches. The article must be Nora’s. He’d read it just the other day. “Forgive me, gentlemen. I really must look after my hands.” He wiggled his itching fingers impatiently and started walking.
“We’ll accompany you. I’m anxious to hear your thoughts.”
“Wonderful.” The word sounded pleasant despite his grinding teeth.
Leaving the others behind, Adams followed Daniel into the washroom. Daniel located a clean basin, pumped it full of water, then dipped his hands. The water was cold and soothing, but though it was tempting to pause, he reached for the soap and began working up a lather.
“I’m no Silas Vickery.” Adams hooked a thumb on his trouser pocket.
Daniel raised his head just enough that Adams could see his raised eyebrows. “That’s good.”
Vickery, the head of Bart’s board, was twice Adams’s size and three times as vicious. He was less known for medical innovation than for his extreme dislike of Horace Croft. Daniel avoided him at all costs.
Adams held up his palms. “I have no desire to start a feud with my colleagues.”
“Nor I,” Daniel agreed cautiously.
Adams waved a piece of paper as Daniel dried his hands, paying scrupulous attention to the spaces between his fingers and his nails. “This petition argues that innovation in obstetricsmust come from doctors. There can be no safe experimentation by the unlearned.”
“Like midwives,” Daniel said levelly.
“Exactly,” Adams said.
“One could argue that there is no true safe experimentation at all,” Daniel said.
“Yes, but a physician—a well-trained one—can assess risks, determine if an idea is—”
“My wife is a physician,” Daniel announced flatly.
Adams balked. “But the women she’s working with certainly are not.”
“Our degrees hardly make us immune. Whose idea was it to transfuse Mrs. Colman with milk?” Daniel asked, and Adams flushed.
“Her acute postpartum bleeding required immediate action.”
“And her immediate reaction was most unfortunate,” Daniel said dryly. Heart palpitations, rashes erupting all over her body, acute nervous shock were all quite unfortunate. Together, they’d nearly been fatal.
Adams continued, his voice as pointed as his sharp beard, “Physicians must present a united front to effect change. Look how long the last medical reform bill took. If we squabble among ourselves—”
“I’m not squabbling.” Daniel folded the towel and laid it next to the basin. “I’m in favor of training midwives. I’ve no wish to attend every delivery in London. You know we can’t. There are not enough doctors, and many patients can’t afford our fees anyway.”
“But they can’t be allowed to displace physicians. I make little money from deliveries and lying-in fees when you consider the time involved, but they keep families loyal to me and bring in new generations of wealthy clients.”
Daniel knew well enough how happy surgeons would be to forgo obstetrics all together, but it was expected for family doctors to attend to every birth or risk losing the household’s business.
Adams continued, “Not to mention, it will stunt discovery. Procedures like your wife’s cesarean will never be adopted if she ties herself to mere midwives. And the regulation of doctors, surgeons, and apothecaries is of prime importance. Charlatans and impostors have no place practicing medicine.”
