The student may be admitted when she is able to read and write in the Common Tongue and provide the solution to arithmetic problems as appropriate to the management of the home.
The student must be scrupulous in her conduct, eschewing such language, habits, and acquaintanceships that would compromise her character and the reputations of her peers and the Academy.
The student must attend punctually the gatherings for all students, as well as her own lectures and lessons; apply herself diligently to her learning; and also take care that she does not interfere with the learning of others.
The tuition of 20 Crowns per term includes the cost of room and board in the Farport Women's Academy quarters, as well as books and materials, and all garments comprising the uniform, with the exception of shoes. The uniform is mandatory for all students. Residence in the Academy quarters is not mandatory, but students are not entitled to a lesser fee if they decline room and board.
Under no circumstances shall any student of Farport Women's Academy be permitted to enter the Farport Academy quarters; conversely, under no circumstances shall a student invite any male person into the Farport Women's Academy quarters.
(excerpt, Farport Women's Academy Rules and Requirements)
.:.
That evening, at a ball, I cornered Doctor Brown -- literally, in a dim corner -- and peppered him with question after question about himself, his opinions, his work... Anything I could think of to get some sense of him as a person.
He didn't care for art or music, though he did like to dance, and he read very little besides the literature, as he called it, which he studied for at least an hour each day.
Again and again, I tried to engage him on the subject of his work, since he had no enthusiasm for any other, but again and again, he begged pardon and informed me it wasn't a fit topic for ladies.
At length, my frustration overwhelmed me. I smiled at him, trying to seem all sweetness, and I asked, "Doctor Brown, did you know I bred my own stock of fine wool sheep...?"
"Ah," he said, "did you?"
"I started out with only eight, but now I keep half a dozen rams and a bellwether or two and about ninety ewes. Of course, I needn't keep so many rams... A good ram can service thirty or thirty-five ewes eventually, but I like to get the rut done with by Midwinter."
"Ah..." Doctor Brown swallowed. "Do you?"
"I do. Come Grassmonth, I have perhaps a hundred fifty lambs, and I help make the sausages. Oh, but I do beg your pardon... I suppose that's not a fit topic with a doctor present."
Doctor Brown answered that with an uneasy little laugh. It was to his credit, I thought.
"I think I owe you an apology," he said. "Most of the ladies in my acquaintance do not have your... practical experience."
I forced a smile. "What a pity."
Doctor Brown grunted a vague agreement, and then he was quiet a long moment. It was not one of his usual vacant silences, but rather a definite pause for reflection. I watched him with keen interest, eager to see what fruit the quiet would bear.
At length, he said, "You might make a good nurse."
"A nurse?" I frowned. That was not at all what I had expected.
Doctor Brown suddenly paled. He stammered a bit, saying, "That is, I uh... I mean no offense, Miss Shepley, but I am a doctor, after all. I see the world as I see it. And nursing requires a sort of unflinching constitution. It's uncommon in women."
"Oh, is it..."
"The women of Farport, anyway," he said. "Although my sister hopes to be a nurse. Daisy, that is."
"Does she...?" I was utterly astonished by this -- and not just because he'd simply offered it up without a torturous interrogation first. Daisy seemed far too bland and biddable for anything so audacious as hopes... That implied interests... Preferences, even.
"Father would rather she marry, of course," he said, ending the sentence in a bloodless chuckle. He swallowed, and then, almost grimly, he added, "But she would excel at it."
"Well, then. She should pursue it."
He nodded slowly. "I think so, too."
We fell into another lull. It would prove to be a barren one.
I drew in a breath, with no clear idea of what words I would use it for. "So... What called you to become a doctor?"
"Oh. Well..." Doctor Brown's eyes flicked away. He blinked a few times, and then they flicked back. "I'm good at it," he said. "It's the only thing I am good at, in truth. And I'm better at it than most."
"Is that all...? Do you not enjoy it?"
"No, I do." Doctor Brown smiled -- it was a quiet thing, but genuine and rather charming. "I like to help people. And it's... Well, it's fascinating, really, though... morbid. Most people don't like to hear about it."
"Well, I am all eagerness to listen..." I leaned toward him. "Tell me something fascinating."
Doctor Brown seemed to look inside himself a moment, and then, suddenly, his hands came alive. It was the most delightful transformation.
"One of my current patients..." he said, poking at the air with one finger. "A captain of the Lord Regent's Watch. He was in an accident... Really, a grisly thing. His horse startled and reared up, and just crushed his skull, and the brains underneath...
"I've done all I can for him... I don't know if it will be enough. And I feel guilty, Miss Shepley. The man suffers, and he may die, but I am... fascinated. It is the strangest thing... The injury was to the left side of his brains, and yet he is unable to move his right hand. His left hand is entirely unaffected."
He looked down at me, his eyes searching mine for answers that were not there. "Why should a blow to the left side of the head cause paralysis in the right hand...?"
I shrugged. "I've no idea."
Doctor Brown shrugged back at me. "Neither have I."
"A coincidence, perhaps...?" I suggested. "Was the man's hand injured?"
"No, that was my first thought, as well. But then I read through the literature, and this sort of thing has been observed before. And sometimes in a dissection, particularly of the elderly, one will observe lesions in the-"
The music started up then, and Doctor Brown broke off, looking round him almost guiltily. "Is it that time already?"
He bowed to me sharply. "I beg your pardon, Miss Shepley. I am engaged for this dance."
I smiled, telling him, "I quite understand," and then I drifted over toward Daisy, who sat with her hands in her lap, cheerfully smiling at no one.
Brief though it was, it proved an unpleasant journey. As I passed behind Doctor Brown and his dance partner -- a willowy Southlander with hair like spun gold -- I overheard her say, "Poor Doctor Brown... I wondered if you would ever escape that beastly girl."
Doctor Brown made some protest too quiet for me to hear, and then our eyes met, and he went pale.
"Ah, allow me to introduce our guest," he said, gesturing toward me. "This is Miss Shepley."
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."