The Purpose of Miss Shepley

Chapter Fourteen (part I)

The woman turned and studied me with a sort of serpent-like interest -- rapt and distant at the same time. She was very beautiful, though older than I'd expected, apparently thirty or thirty-five.

"Shepley..." She blinked quickly. "I know that name..."

I lifted my chin. "My grandfather is the Baron of Ewert."

"Oh, is he..." The woman smiled, her eyes flicking over me -- she took stock of my height and my hair and my freckles, no doubt. "In the Northerns. How lovely."

"It is lovely," I said. "And the people are lovely, too. Apparently, that's a rare thing."

I left them without another word and sat myself down beside Daisy, fuming. She stared at me, her dull brown eyes big and fearful.

"By the Moon above, I swear every Southlander I've ever met has been the most unspeakably rude person..."

"Miss Shepley..." Daisy's lip trembled. "Miss Shepley, that was Charity Richards... The Lord Regent's daughter."

My heart nearly stopped, hearing these words. I wanted to die. Indeed, I was certain I would die -- my grandfather would surely strangle me if he ever heard word of this, but I thought I might just choke on my own horror, first.

I folded my hands in my lap, and I slouched so that I did not seem so much taller than Daisy. And there I sat, for the rest of ball, my guts twisting with dread. I had never hated being my father's child more than in those hours -- if only I wasn't so tall, so freckled, so red-haired, the Lord Regent's daughter might forget me...!

Sleep was nearly impossible that night. I passed long hours staring out at the misty glow round the lamppost, wondering what I could do, and what would become of me. Four separate times, I made up my mind to go directly to Oakhurst at sunrise. When Miss Ward came to dress me for breakfast, I was still of half a mind to go.

Doctor Brown was at breakfast -- a first in all my days there. He had a printed booklet before him, held open with a butter knife, and he shovelled eggs into his mouth, reading while he chewed.

The female Browns immediately fell into their usual worthless babble -- Good morning, Miss Shepley. How pretty your dress is. How the color does suit you...

I smiled and tried my best to be gracious, though my heart sank. I was to be their guest for another twelve days. It would be too rude to just leave, yet at the same, I didn't know how I could ever bear it.

There was a lull in the chatter while everyone's mouths were full. Doctor Brown caught my eye. He removed the butter knife and pushed the booklet toward me, saying, "This was the literature I mentioned last night."

I took it from him, at his urging, but it might as well have been written in a different tongue, for all the sense I could make of it. "What is this?" I asked. "Gross examination reveals these nerve fibers... decussate superior to the..." I stopped, unable to guess at how to pronounced the next word.

"Pituitary," he said. "And rostral to the hypothalamus."

"And what is that?"

"Parts of the brains. It's saying the nerves from the eyeballs cross. That's what decussate means. So the right eyeball is in connection with the left brain."

Mrs. Brown jerked to a stop midway in the cutting up of a little fried fish, as if her spring had wound down. She grimaced unreservedly, her nostrils flaring, and said, "Oh, William... I do wish you wouldn't discuss such things at the table."

Unthinkingly, I murmured, "William...?" but thankfully, no one seemed to notice.

Doctor Brown dipped his head, saying, "Forgive me, Mother." He gestured for the booklet; I pushed it back toward him, and he closed it up, tucking it away off to the side. Mrs. Brown ate her fish, though she still looked faintly disgusted.

The usual chatter re-commenced, but I little heeded it. I glanced often at Doctor Brown, quite lost in my wonder.

His name was William... If I married him, I would be Mrs. William Brown. How strange it suddenly seemed, that I had come to be courted without even knowing what new name I should be getting.

I soon ate all I could bear to and made my excuses. When I rose from the table, Doctor Brown rose as well, following me out of the room.

He stopped me in the hallway, asking, "Miss Shepley, may I have a word, please?"

"Yes?"

"I have informed my mother that we have been poor hosts," he said. "A girl of your intelligence will surely languish without stimulation. That's my medical opinion. May I?"

He took my hand and held two fingers against the inside of my wrist. "You have not been sleeping well, have you?"

"Well, in truth, I haven't been," I admitted. "It's not so quiet here as I'm used to. Or dark."

"Hmm." Doctor Brown nodded slowly. "That may be a contributing factor."

He was quiet a long moment, then he let go of my wrist. There was a sort of a hesitance in his manner, as if he hadn't quite a made a decision, though when he spoke next, he seemed sure enough.

"You were scheduled for a luncheon today, but I have taken the liberty of sending your regrets. I should like to take you to the university hospital, instead." He added quickly, "And my sister, as well. You may both observe my work."

I quickly agreed. I was certain a university hospital would prove more interesting than yet another society gathering. "And could we take a long route, perhaps...?" I asked. "One that goes past the sea?"

Doctor Brown nodded, his expression revealing no trace of humor. "Yes, we can manage that," he said. "Can you be ready in half an hour? I don't mean to rush you..."

"A half hour is plenty." Even as I said it, I felt a tinge of regret. No doubt, Mrs. Burke would most vehemently disagree.

We turned to part ways, but then a thought occurred to me -- or rather, it re-occurred to me.

"Doctor Brown... If the right eyeball is in connection with the left brain..."

"Yes?" He watched me keenly, his brown eyes almost glittering.

"Well, then mightn't the right hand be, as well?"

Doctor Brown smiled. "Exactly what I was thinking."