The Artful Dodger

6. The Yankee Dodge

"He's just not up to the task," the professor mumbled, drink sloshing over the sides of his glass. He was sitting in the governor's study alongside Dr. Sneed, having a much-needed discussion on Dr. Dawkins after the young surgeon had interfered with a serious procedure.

"The idea of having a man of his low standing," he continued, words slurring together, "was always gonna be fraught. Surely there must be somebody more competent?"

The governor's wife laughed stiffly from where she stood poised at his desk, thin lips tugging into a smile. The veins on her thin neck seemed to burst from the effort. "Not in Port Victory."

Belle listened to them silently from the other side of the room, rifling through her father's books as per usual. Me, she wished to scream, fingers twitching as they ran overtop of the faded, worn spines of the medical books. I'm more competent than any of them.

But her jaw stayed clamped shut.

"We'll find someone," the governor promised. The professor leaded forwards, hand shaking so much he nearly dropped his glass. Spit flew from his mouth as he berated Dawkins yet again.

"Dawkins just isn't up to scratch!"

"Which is extremely disappointing." The first lady scanned the very roll of parchment that had both Dawkins' name and oodles of praise scribbled throughout like sticky puddles. "He had such a fine recommendation here from the Admiralty. Said he was the 'most brilliant surgeon in the royal navy.'"

Belle finally looked up from her book, tilting her head to listen as they ridiculed the young doctor with insults: he was insolent, didn't follow rules, and was a "liberal and radical," the professor spat before chugging down another mouthful of whiskey.

"Well, you'll have to write to the First Admiralty," Belle's mother said sarcastically, "and tell him how very wrong he was about this young Dawkins."

The governor stuttered on his thoughts, absolutely terrified at the thought, before pressing his folded hands tightly on top of the desk. "Well," he muttered, "I--I suppose we could continue this experiment for a little bit longer. But if he puts another foot wrong, out his ear!"

Belle smiled to herself as she pretended to turn a page. Her father had boomed that phrase that was meant to be an ultimatum every few weeks; she knew it would take a lot to get rid of that uppity surgeon. From the sounds of it he, like her, was up for change in the medical field.

She wanted to meet this young doctor, she realized in earnest. Maybe he could cure her of her mysterious chest pains.

Spinning round on her heel, Belle set the open book she had been holding onto her father's desk between the professor and Sneed.

"Worth a read," she commented lightly as she strode from the room, her mother on her heels. Once they were out of earshot, she gripped her mother's elbow to keep her near. "Nicely played."

"I rather thought so," the first lady said. "Now, darling, I want you to spend some time with Mr. Smales. Don't just dismiss him out-of-hand like all the others."

As Belle bade her farewell with an eye roll, the captain of the guard marched into the foyer, a roll of parchment clutched tightly in his gloved hands.

"Captain Gaines," the governor's wife said carefully, putting on an air of pleasantry.

"I need the governor to sign these," Gaines said, stepping forwards with a smile that told her all she needed to know about them. He always got eager and excited over death warrants of petty criminals.

"Oh." She quickly placed a hand on the side of the doorway, blocking him from entering the study. "And what are they for?"

"Government business," Gaines said quickly, smile growing irritated. "Death warrants, ridding the colony of some of its more...noxious elements."