It is a reminder of the difference in their stations. Gilbert has not had a bath since the fire, nor is he likely to have one anytime soon. Of course, he does not tell her this. Instead, he asks after Dr. McCaw.
“His condition is very grave,” she says. “My brother refuses to allow anyone to remove his jacket, so it’s impossible for us to determine the full extent of his burns.”
Gilbert’s eyes grow wide. “He cannot be convinced?”
“I think he understands that to remove it properly, a great deal of flesh will have to come off with it.”
Gilbert shudders involuntarily.
“I know, it’s quite gruesome,” Mrs. Johnston agrees. “The leg has been properly wrapped and splinted, though, and Dr. Foushee thinks it’s possible that he’ll have the full use of it in time.”
“That’s good,” says Gilbert, and prays that she will soon be through with him.
Mrs. Johnston wrings her gloved hands together, like she is working up the nerve to say something important. “Actually, I’m here to discuss something else with you,” she says. “Do you have a moment?”
Gilbert is tempted to screamNot for you!but instead he lies through his teeth. “Master Kemp will be wanting me back to work soon.”
“It’s about Mr. Kemp, actually.”
Curiosity gets the better of him. “Go on.”
She removes a piece of paper from her handbag. “The women you saved. I’ve identified eleven of them. There might have been more than that, but I’m certain of these.”
She shows Gilbert the list, then apologizes. “I don’t know if you can read.”
Gilbert won’t admit to her that he can, so he asks, “What’s it say?”
“It’s a list. Of all of us.”
Most of the women’s names have check marks beside them. A couple are crossed out. One has no markings at all. “I’ve spent much of the day calling on them.”
“And they are well?”
“Remarkably so.”
“I’m glad.”
“It’s a testament to my brother’s bravery. And yours.”
Gilbert repeats what he told her last night. “We did the same thing any other man would have done.”
Mrs. Johnston folds the piece of paper in half and tucks it back in her reticule. “That’s where I think you are wrong. I suspect a great many men would have looked the other way. And, in fact, did.”
She waits for a response, but when he doesn’t give her one, she pushes forward. “We would like to do something substantial to thank you for your service.”
“You already thanked me.”
“I have proposed a fundraising campaign. We would like to buy your freedom.”
Gilbert can’t have heard her right. “My freedom?”
“It strikes us as grossly unfair that the city’s most venerated hero should be enslaved.”
Gilbert could have argued the unfairness of the entire institution, but he knows Mrs. Johnston is not standing in front of him trying to solve that particular injustice.
“I’m expensive,” he warns. “I’m not saying that to scare you off. I just want you to know what you’re getting into.”
“How much?”
