"Dr. Thackery, good evening," Henry Robertson said,
Dr. Thackery turned towards the voice of the young hospital director. Mrs. Abigail Alford stood anxiously next to Thack, holding his arm. Abigail He looked dazzling in her dark lavender ballgown and Thackery himself was suitably debonair in his tuxedo.
The ballroom of the hotel was alive with light and music. The orchestra had just finished a song and people on the dance floor were waiting for the next to begin.
Miss Lucy Elkins stood next to Henry, her expression blank. Her auburn hair was coiffed in luxurious style, high upon the crown of her head. The soft pink, French Chantilly dress complimented her stunning blue eyes. But those sapphire orbs were somber and swirled with inner pain. She stared at directly at Dr. John Thackery with piercing intent.
Unaware of Lucy's silent daggers, Thackery stooped his tall frame to talk into Abigail's ear, "This is August's son, Henry."
"Nice to meet you, "Abigail said, shaking his hand with a smile. Despite the surgery on her nose and the self consciously with accompanied her every move, she was a strikingly handsome woman.
"And you've already met Miss Elkins at the Knick,' Thackery continued, his voice catching a little as he noticed that Lucy's sultry eyes had not moved away from his face.
"Yes. I remember her kindness when I was there - both times," Abigail acknowledged the younger woman.
Lucy did not respond.
Henry glanced at Lucy, a little disappointed with her manners. But what to expect of a girl of low social status?
"Mrs. Alford," Henry beamed, "I would be most gracious to have this next dance. Do you mind, Thack?"
Thackery looked at Abigail with a bemused but pleased expression as Henry offered his arm.
Abigail hesitated a moment and then burst out laughing, "You are a charmer, I must say. How can I say no?"
Winking at Thackery, Abigail took Henry's arm and he bowed briefly to the chief surgeon before heading off to the dance floor with Mrs. Alford to dance the next waltz.
Both Thackery and Lucy Elkins watched them mingle into the dancing circle of other bodies, lost then in the lights and swish of skirts and candles and song.
Lucy edged closer to Thackery, "I need to come by your apartment. I have some things I need to collect there. Some of my dresses and personal things. I think I left my black corset there too. The one you liked so much. They're in the closet of your bedroom. Remember?"
Thackery winced, "Lucy, I'm –"
"John, I'm still not over this yet. You may have moved on. But I haven't."
Thackery gently put a hand on Lucy's back, "What about this – with Henry Robertson?"
Lucy could tell him the sound of Thackery's tone that it was not an approving one. Did he still care? Was he jealous?
Lucy smirked a bit, her sorrow piqued by revenge, "Don't you approve?"
"I thought maybe Bertie – "
"Bertie's moved on. You've moved on – or back, I should say. Back to a romantic vision of the past. I can't let all the men in my life trod on me. I won't let that happen again."
"I wasn't very good for you Lucy, I can see that now, "Thackery confessed reluctantly. "You know how I feel about you."
Lucy hesitated, her hopes suddenly sparking, "Tell me, John."
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me how you feel? Do you miss the nights we had together? I do – I miss them every moment of every day. I can't think of much else. "
"I trust you and I want the best for you. You're one of the few people at the Knick who I rely on more than anyone else."
"But not like you relied on me before? You called me the more 'wonderful, beautiful girl you had ever known'. Your very words. Or was that just the cocaine you were talking about."
"Lucy, dance with me," Thack said impulsively, his hand enclosing hers with long, warm fingers.
Lucy was aroused and her neck flushed suddenly, the pink mingling with the lace ruff at her bosom.
"Do you think it proper?"
"Why not? Let me at least dance with you once as doctor and nurse. No one else knows about us except Bertie and Barrow. Dr. Algernon maybe guesses. But what do they care?"
Lucy smiled and it was a smile for the ages. Thackery suddenly saw the sun come out from under her angry brow. She had been pent up with anger and longing for so long, he thought. It was a small gift to grant.
"Tell your piteous heart there's no harm done," quoted Thackery, offering Lucy his arm.
Lucy was so stunned she hesitated, enraptured by the closeness of Thackery and the touch of his hand on hers. Here was the reckless doctor again, the renegade. Their attraction was crackling between them now and it was silently acknowledged by both of them. Had they been in Thack's darkened bedroom instead of this public place Lucy understood that in about two seconds they would have been entangled on the carpet amidst short breathes and passionate groping.
But the waltz had just ended. A new song was about to begin.
As Thackery edged out to the dance floor, Lucy hypnotized at his side, Henry and Abigail appeared breathlessly.
The spell was broken as abruptly as shattered glass.
"O my, "Abigail exclaimed excitedly, "Mr. Robertson is quite the dancer."
"I'm afraid I have swept Mrs. Alford of her feet, Thack. My apologies, "Henry teased.
Abigail glanced down at Thack's hand, who quickly dropped his hold on Miss Elkin's own. Thackery smiled at Abigail and scooped her close around the waist.
The clouds had gathered over Lucy's eyes again and they sulkily moved away from Thackery to Henry, "I think I need another drink, Henry."
"Of course, Lucy. It would be my pleasure. Nice seeing you Thack, Mrs. Alford, "Henry bowed elegantly, taking Lucy by the arm.
"Mrs. Alford, "Lucy said quietly, "Doctor."
As the pair moved into the jostling crowd of spectators and donors, Abigail nuzzled closer to Thackery, her arm tightening around his, "Your blue-eyed nurse still fancies you. I can see it in her face."
"Only one woman in this room has truly stolen my heart," Thackery answered honestly, "Another dance?"
"Goodness, no! I think Lucy was right. Another drink if you please!"
Thackery laughed, but as his eyes followed Lucy across the room, more Shakespeare came to mind.
All thy vexations
Were by my trials of thy love, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test. Here, afore heaven,
I ratify this my rich gift.
The Tempest