Accidental Tourist by Marcia Gaines
Chapter Fourteen, Developments
(Chicago, 11 May 1893)
Helena lay in her bed staring at the wall. She had telegrammed Andrew, twice, hoping to hear Emma was improving, but she was not. The last update she received told her the fever and cough had worsened and Emma spent nearly every moment in bed. The myriad of differing possibilities ran through Helena's mind. She was no doctor, but she knew enough to know whatever was wrong with Emma, it was not going to turn out to have a simple treatment – if there even was a treatment. She shut her eyes against the images of Emma's listless body. She had seen a dying woman once, and it made her blood run cold to think how similarly Emma looked when she last saw her.
Don't say that. Say what? That she's dying. I didn't say it. Well don't think it! Aren't you the one thinking it? She can't die. You know better. She can recover. Can she? She has to. Why? Because she just has to. She might not. You don't know that. No, but you do.
And she did know. She knew the only chance Emma stood was to find a quick and effective treatment against whatever ravaged her body. It had to work fast enough to give her the time her body needed to heal, and Helena worried that as fast as the illness was progressing they might not find it in time. She racked her brain for any grain of hope stored away from years of her research into biology and human physiology. Nothing.
I'm not a doctor, what do I know? You know enough. I don't know how to help her. No, but you know someone who can. Who? Magnus.
Dr. Helen Magnus. There was no finer medical mind and she felt herself relax with the knowledge Magnus was fortuitously in the city for the summer. If there was any doctor she trusted to be able to diagnose and treat such an aggressive-moving contagion it would be she. She resolved to make her way to Magnus' residence first thing in the morning.
(Dwight, IL – 12 May 1893)
"How long was she unconscious, Wells?" The question roused Helena from her thoughts.
"I don't know, Magnus." Helena shook her head trying to dislodge the difficult image from her mind. "Not long, maybe a minute. We had to use smelling salts to awaken her." They made the last turn before Andrew's home and she knew they were nearly there. It seemed the longest trip she had ever taken so severe was the dread in her mind. "Do you think you can help her?"
Magnus considered Helena before answering. "I think, based on the symptoms you've relayed, that she is a very sick girl." She paused and looked at Helena's brow as it knit together. "It could be any number of infectious agents, I'm afraid. With the sudden onset it's hard to say exactly what it might be. I'll know more after I examine her." Magnus went through the variety of conditions she knew could result in the sort of symptoms Helena had described. None were heartening, and the sooner she could diagnose and begin treatment, the better the prognosis would become. There was only one symptom that seriously concerned her, however, and she hesitated to alert the already troubled woman sitting across from her. She wondered if she could glean information without worrying her further.
The carriage hit a hole in the road and Helena braced herself for the jarring impact, but it never came. The large well-padded town coach absorbed the shock well. It brought a sigh of relief from Helena who liked the finery associated with Magnus' personal carriage. As long as she had known the woman there were two areas where she knew her to consistently splurge – her domiciles and her transportation. Indeed, the personal carriage was one of the finest Helena had ever seen. Roomier and geared toward luxury, as opposed to the standard hansom, it provided much better comfort and true protection from the elements. Even as the rain beat loudly against the hard-top the outside wind could neither be felt nor heard. Helena was grateful for its absence inside the carriage. It had made their conversation easier. She sat wondering what it was Magnus was withholding. They had been friends long enough for her to know when the doctor had something on her mind, and had seen how she "handled" the friends and families of patients who were seriously ill. She knew she was watching her do it now, and it only made her feel worse. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "Magnus?" She looked into the woman's large compassionate blue eyes. "How bad is it? Truthfully."
Magnus knew better than to answer the question directly. Most of the symptoms pointed her in the direction of a bronchitis, influenza, or pneumonia diagnosis. Each were treatable. There was a remote possibility of cholera infection, but the two most significant symptoms of that disease had not yet presented. She could not rule it out, entirely, but she considered it a less likely culprit and knew it had a good prognosis with proper treatment. The one that worried her the most was the one to which she could tie all the symptoms, including the nosebleed. There was no treatment for it, and it had an alarmingly high mortality rate. Worse, it was the same disease that had ravaged the Chicago area no less than two years previously resulting in the loss of nearly ten thousand lives. Still, Magnus knew the one true symptom was one that had not been mentioned. "Did you happen to notice her body when you helped change her clothes?"
Helena's eyebrows flew up. "What? Why would you ask me that? Why is she asking me that? Maybe she knows. I don't care if she knows. And this bothers you? No! Then why are you panicking? I DON'T KNOW!
Magnus watched with curiosity as her colleague floundered. She had clearly taken the question the wrong way, and the blush spreading across the woman's face helped explain the defensive response. It had never occurred to her that her friend of so many years might be attracted to women. In thinking it through, she decided, the idea was not entirely surprising. After all, Helena was most definitely the kind of woman whose very being often flew in the face of societal conventions. Having such proclivities would certainly not be inconsistent with her level of personal openness. Even still, Magnus wondered why her friend had never mentioned it to her. "Did you notice if she had a rash of any sort? On her stomach area especially."
"Oh," Helena blinked and her panic faded. "No, I didn't notice anything like that. But I wasn't exactly looking." It was the perfect opportunity, you know. She's sick! What's that got to do with just looking? Everything! So you would have looked if she wasn't sick? I didn't say that. You didn't not say it. She closed her eyes pushing her thoughts away. She seemed to be doing that a lot, lately, and she wished she could make the internal struggles stop. While she had helped get Emma changed from her clothes into proper attire for bed, she chose to uncharacteristically avert her eyes. She had not questioned the action until Magnus' inquiry.
Magnus noticed the blush rise again on her friend's face. There was no doubt in her mind as to her companion's feelings. She wondered if the same was true for their owner, but as the coach rolled to a stop indicating their arrival, she bookmarked the discussion for a later time.
(Chicago, IL – 12 May 1893)
"Well this is a surprise." Nikola held open the door to let his friend enter the room. James Watson did not look like a happy man. "What's wrong, James, you look like a horse just ran over your dog."
"I don't have a dog, Nikola, and what's wrong is that we have a problem." He turned to face him and his eyes showed a fierceness Nikola was unaccustomed to seeing. "A very serious problem."
"By all means, let's put a damper on the already damp day, shall we?" Nikola closed the door and hung Watson's coat near the door. The two men walked into the living space where they took seats opposite each other from the roaring fire. Nikola observed his friend closely and wondered what could have placed such intensity in his expression. The normally sharp eyes were unfocused and his face, so full of concentration, appeared more deeply lined than usual. The corners of his mouth disappeared sternly into his well-manicured beard as he stared into the fire.
"I fear the The Ripper may be here, Nikola." Watson's tone was beyond ominous. "And if he is, he may be up to his old habits." He spoke without breaking his gaze. Jack the Ripper being active again meant his worst nightmare had come true, and he felt himself shiver with the weight of the responsibility he felt for what might lay ahead.
Nikola tensed at the mention of the name. James was not one to frazzle easily and it gave Nikola pause to see him so disturbed. He carefully studied his friend's countenance. Reflections from the fireplace licked at Watson's pupils seeming to illustrate whatever grizzly hell played in the recesses of his mind. The case had always haunted Watson proving to be the one and only investigation where he had been unable to identify a culprit. The number of lives lost, both known and unknown, had weighed on him ever since. "I haven't heard any horror stories regarding the Unfortunates here. What makes you think he's here?"
"H.G. came to see Helen this morning. I was there. It appears she and another… woman," he emphasized the word, "have been investigating the disappearance of some women and children."
"Children?" Nikola raised his eyebrows. "Since when has the Ripper taken to children?"
"Never," answered Watson continuing to look into the fireplace. "The children returned safely, the women have not."
"You and I both know what she thinks about the Ripper, James." Nikola watched as Watson bridled. "And I haven't seen… him here. I haven't seen him since Whitechapel."
"I know," Watson steepled his fingers together and pressed them to his chin as he thought. "But that isn't important. H.G. might have been right about the possibility of multiple killers, but she was wrong about John. As much as he's changed, he would never harm another soul. You know that as well as I." He said it with such absolute finality that Nikola did not bother reminding him of how accurate Helena's observations had been. "Still, she may be right about the Ripper being in Chicago."
"What makes you say that?" Nikola thought back to the many conversations he had with Helen Magnus. According to her H.G. had been able to so precisely describe their mutual friend that she was even able to predict the smallest of his behaviors despite having never met him. The arguments it set off between the two great minds resulted in an inability for them to ever fully come to friendship, a crime of its own right to Nikola's mind. If H.G.'s powers of deduction were as strong as Magnus claimed, he could not help but wonder if they should have listened to her.
"She found Helen's lost engagement present." Watson leaned back in his chair and turned to face his companion. "The same one described by so many of the suspected killers from Whitechapel." He looked thoughtful as he continued. "It means nothing other than if it is indeed Helen's, the Ripper may have decided to do as he did once before and is making a new protégé."
Nikola poured himself a glass of wine and silently offered some to his guest who declined with a slight shake of his head. "The scalpel set? How on earth would H.G. have known about that?" The engagement had happened, and been broken, nearly fifteen years previous.
"She didn't," said Watson. "But how many doctors do you know with monogrammed blades?"
Nikola sipped his wine slowly. He knew of only one, and it had been given as a ceremonial gift meant to commemorate both her graduation from medical school as well as her engagement to John Druitt. "It bears the monogram?"
"H.M." It was the only response the great thinker provided to the question.
(Dwight, IL – 12 May 1893)
"Magnus, I'd like to introduce you to a dear friend, Andrew Cigrand, Esquire. Emma's cousin." Helena smiled as the two shook hands.
"A pleasure, Dr. Magnus," Andrew greeted her with a smile and a bow. "Thank you for coming, but we already have a doctor with Emma. He's upstairs with her now. Second door on the left if you'd like to speak with him."
"Excellent," said Magnus. "I'll go up to talk with him in a moment. Do you have time to go over a few questions with me?" She wanted to ask about any possible exposures Emma may have had to help narrow down the diagnosis. "I'll confer with the other doctor when we're finished."
"Certainly," said Andrew as he led them into the living space. Helena took her leave excusing herself so she could check on Emma. She walked upstairs and entered the second room on the left per Andrew's directions. Mrs. Cigrand stood in a corner wringing her hands while the doctor listened through a stethoscope at his patient's chest. The smell of candle wax filled her senses and she noted, for the second time, the lack of technological advancement in the home. She let her eyes adjust to the dimly lit room and watched as the doctor finished his examination. When he stood, Helena gasped. The sickly woman's entire body appeared to be soaked in sweat, her hair lay matted against her head, and her face was overly flush with fever. Helena rushed to her bedside as the doctor updated Andrew's wife.
"I'm afraid she's gotten worse, Penny." His voice was low as he spoke. "The fever continues, and I believe fluid is starting to fill the lungs. Whatever she has, it's progressing quickly." He fumbled through his bag as Mrs. Cigrand looked on.
"Ms. Wells, so good of you to come," she addressed Helena who looked up briefly acknowledging the salutation with a small smile. Helena reached out pushing the hair from Myka's forehead and wincing at the feel of her temperature. Myka's eyes fluttered open at her touch.
"Helena," Myka's voice was extremely weak, but she managed a smile. "Where have you been? I've missed you." She reached out and took Helena by the hand as she closed her eyes again. Helena watched her fall back into sleep and gently removed her hand from Emma's limp grasp.
"When's the last time she ate something?" Helena addressed the doctor and Mrs. Cigrand after spying the uneaten tray of meat and vegetables atop the nearby nightstand. She evaluated the patient and decided Emma's skin appeared pasty and sallow, her eyes sunken, and her cheeks hollow. She had clearly not been receiving enough nourishment.
"She hasn't eaten anything today," said Penny. "Once we realized she had a fever we tried giving her everything, but she hasn't been able to keep anything down since you brought her home." Helena grimaced. She hasn't eaten in three days? These people are quacks! This is her family. Then her family is full of quacks! Stop it!
The doctor lifted a bottle from his bag and returned to Emma's bedside. Helena made room for him and watched as he began metering out a dose. He was of average height and slightly built with a larger than normal head so that the candlelight reflecting from his bald scalp made him appear a hastily drawn figure in a newspaper cartoon. "Penny, I'm going to leave this bottle with you. Be sure to give her two tablespoons every hour."
Penny nodded and the curls in her bun slipped out and bobbled ridiculously with her movement. "Should I give it to her with food or should I stop trying to feed the fever?" Helena's face contorted. Don't say it. She's absurd! Emma's not keeping anything down, anyway. She'll never get the chance with that preposterous woman refusing to feed her something she can hold!
"Either way is fine," the doctor said. Helena wanted to scream at him for not pressing the importance of keeping Emma nourished. "Just be sure to give her water every few hours."
Bollocks! "No," said Helena unable to contain herself any further. It's about time you spoke up. Shut up.
"Sorry?" The doctor looked up at her. He was clearly not used to being questioned.
"If she's been vomiting, then she needs more than just plain water." She addressed Penny making no attempt to conceal the irritation in her voice. "Mrs. Cigrand, you will please bring a glass, a spoon, and a litre of water – into which you must mix no more and no less than one-half teaspoon of salt along with six teaspoons of sugar." She glanced at Emma's overly-dehydrated body and amended her command. "Make sure those proportions are exact." She's going to need more than that. I know, but this is a start.
The doctor guffawed trying to belay her request. "Now see here, Miss! I am Miss Cigrand's doctor, and I do not recommend such a mixture." He pulled himself up with indignation. "What this girl needs is clean water and rest." He held up the bottle in his hand. "And a dose of this mineral water every hour should have her up on her feet within a few days."
Helena's entire face contorted. "You cannot be serious!" She exclaimed and her voice rose. "Mineral water? What in bloody hell do you think that is going to do for her?"
"Oh yes, dear," Penny said nodding her head sending her curls bouncing again. "Apparently it cures even the worst bouts of cholera." The doctor grunted his approval and turned to pick up a spoon as he began administering the dose.
Helena blinked twice and grabbed the doctor by the shoulders. "OUT!" She yelled. "GET OUT RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"
Myka's eyes opened again and she looked up to see Helena bodily escorting the doctor from the room with Penny following nervously behind. "Helena?" She tried sitting up and began coughing.
"AND DON'T COME BACK!" Helena shouted at his back and slammed the door shut behind them. She muttered "Incompetent fool!" under her breath as she made her way back to Emma's bedside.
"What's wrong?" Myka grimaced and lay back against the pillow. She coughed again and grasped at her chest heaving as she struggled for air.
"Nothing," Helena lied. Myka reached over and took her hand again melting the anger from Helena's voice. "You're fine, darling. Just rest. I'm going to fix you something to drink, and see if we can get some warm cereal in you. You're going to be fine." She stroked Myka's face wiping the sweat from her eyes and watched her fall asleep again.
Minutes later she reached for a bowl of water and washcloth she saw on the nightstand. She dipped the cloth into the cool water and carefully wrung it out before using it to dab at Myka's face. Her eyes fluttered open again with the water's contact against her brow. "I'm glad you're here," Myka said. She smiled up at Helena who looked down into the face of pure love. The moment hung between them until Helena found herself drawn in by touch of the woman's hand upon her own face. The depth in their mutual gaze prompted an instinctual response and before she knew it Helena found herself lowering into a kiss.
The knock on the door halted her and she turned as it opened to see Andrew and Magnus entering the room. "Dear God," Magnus said as she rounded the bedpost and looked into Myka's face. Helena stood and allowed Magnus room to work. "Good morning, dear, I'm Dr. Helen Magnus. I'm a friend of Helena's, and I'm here to help make you better." Myka smiled at her and nodded as Magnus quickly began a cursory examination. A few minutes later she announced. "This woman is severely dehydrated. Andrew, we'll need a litre of water, mixed with a half-teaspoon of salt and six teaspoons of sugar. It will replenish her fluids and help balance her system. Quickly, please."
"Right away," said Andrew and he gave Helena a nod as he left the room.
Magnus looked up at Helena. "Doctor didn't meet with your approval?"
"Don't get me started," Helena said folding her arms.
"I remember you," Myka said as she looked at Magnus.
"Yes, I should hope so," Magnus smiled at her and took her pulse. "We met a couple of weeks ago."
"At the fair," Myka said and her eyes began closing. She was at the fair again, and watching Helena talk and laugh with her friends. She could see the Ferris Wheel where they had ridden the night before and could hear the sound of a clock tower chiming the hour. What time is it? She needed to know the time but as she fell into her dream she could no longer recall why it was so important to know.
Magnus pulled back the bed-covers and unbuttoned Myka's shirt. Helena averted her eyes. Really? What? You're looking away again. So? So why does it bother you? It doesn't bother me. That's why you're staring at your feet? It just. It just what? It wouldn't be appropriate! Why not? Because it wouldn't be! Magnus examined Myka's stomach, ran her hands over the abdomen and pressed lightly testing for signs of distention or tenderness. She raised her stethoscope and listened as Myka breathed. When she finished she buttoned Myka's shirt and arranged her covers before indicating for Helena to follow her. "We'll talk downstairs and let her rest."
They passed Penny, carrying the requested re-hydration liquid on a tray. Magnus inspected it with a frown, but instructed Penny to ensure Myka drank at least a cupful even if it meant spoon-feeding it to her. Penny nodded her understanding and continued climbing as Magnus and Helena walked to the living room where they met Andrew as he entered from the kitchen. "Mr. Cigrand, good. Tell me, do you have plumbing here or only the well-water?" She did not like the way the water had looked or smelled, but the dehydration needed to be addressed even if the water was contaminated.
"Only well-water, why?" He noted the displeased look on Magnus' face and waited for her response.
"As I feared," she said. "I'm afraid your water supply may be compromised. With Emma's condition, I do not think it is safe for her or any of you to be drinking it."
"Damn," he said. "Whenever the lake rises to these heights we always run a risk of runoff contaminating the local wells. That problem will be resolved this fall. Is that what you think made her ill?"
"Hard to say, really," Magnus replied. "I suspect it could be a source of any number of infectious pathogens, but as none of the rest of you seem to be showing any symptoms it's really too early to know. Either way, I do not suggest you stay here.
"It's fine, Andrew," Helena interrupted. "You can all stay with us. Charles and I have room, you can stay as long as is needed." Helena's suggestion had been impromptu, but having made it she felt glad for it immediately. "It would be better for Emma to be in the city, anyway, closer to a hospital and doctors if she needs them."
Andrew studied both their faces and nodded his head. "You're right. The last thing we need is another typhoid outbreak."
Helena's face filled with horror. "Typhoid?" She turned to her friend who sucked in a breath. "Typhoid, Magnus?"
Magnus had not wanted to proffer the possible diagnosis just yet. Her examination had not revealed the tell-tale sign of the illness, but it was still early and the rash could develop any day. "It's a possibility," she admitted. "All the symptoms fit, including the nosebleeds, as an atypical presentation. Right now, however, my biggest concern is the clear onset of pneumonia. She definitely has fluid building up in her lungs. If you're going to move her, I suggest you do it now before it worsens. My carriage is outside, it's large enough to transport everyone, but I suggest we start with Emma and I can send for the rest of you after we get her settled."
Within the hour Magnus, Helena, and Myka were settled into the carriage briskly heading for Helena's home in the city.