Chapter 7

"Murdoch!" Brackenreid strode into the detective's office the morning after Julia's admittance to hospital.

William looked up from his paperwork, forcing himself not to wince; his superior's booming voice was doing little to help his headache, brought on by a sleepless night. Not that he'd been tossing and turning. In an attempt to block out the memories of the previous day, he'd stayed up all night tinkering with half-created inventions, and stretching his mind to fathom complex equations.

Heedless to Murdoch's condition, he continued at his customary volume. "I wasn't expecting to see you this morning. How's the good doctor?"

"Oh, she's doing as well as can be expected, sir. I telephoned the hospital earlier, and the nurse told me she spent a comfortable night."

"Well, that sounds like good news." He frowned then, observing his detective. "Only, I thought you'd be with her. You know there's no reason for you to be here. I'm certainly not forcing you."

"She was asleep when I rang. I'll visit later when she's awake." At least, that was his intention, although the thought of visiting his wife in the hospital was not an appealing one. When Brackenreid merely nodded and continued to stand before him, Murdoch supressed a sigh. "I really must return to my work, sir."

The inspector nodded once more and left, not before shooting William a concerned look.


Once she had awakened and oriented to her surroundings, Julia had been surprised that she'd slept through the night. She lay alone in a private room. A window behind her bed let in enough sunlight to tell Julia it was morning, and the sound penetrating through the door across the room heralded the bustle of a busy workday.

Although working was not to be a part of Julia's day. She only had to shift her body, and the familiar discomfort and nausea returned.

Around half an hour after she awakened, a nurse entered the side ward to check her over, followed by Doctor Harris, who proposed that the double dosage of hormone pills was the cause of her symptoms, and ultimately caused an extremely heavy menstruation, which brought about the shocking pain she'd experienced the previous day. Nevertheless, he proclaimed her to be making a satisfactory recovery; aided by a low dose of laudanum and fluids, her body appeared to be ridding itself of the pills' substances itself. She was by no means recovered, however; by the time it was only midday, Julia felt such weakness, as if she had not slept or eaten for days.

Yet, she did not sleep. Her eyes strayed to the door every time someone passed her room. Through the internal window, she had a good view of the corridor, and she was most often disappointed to see that the person who entered her vision wore a nurse's uniform. Not a single homburg-wearing, immaculately dressed man passed before her window.

Yet, eventually, a figure that she did know appeared. A formal knock, and Miss Clark entered the side ward.

"Doctor Ogden." She nodded stiffly, hands clasped properly before her. It was a rare occasion that Julia ever glimpsed a smile on Miss Clark's face, yet then, standing before her, the scientist appeared somehow more severe. After awkward enquiries after Julia's health, Miss Clark adjusted her glasses with a frown. "I… I don't understand. Why did you sabotage our experiment?"

"I was getting desperate." The clinical, impersonal language from Miss Clark both stung, and made it easier for Julia to speak. "We tried for so many months without success. I felt I had no other recourse."

"Was your husband pressuring you?"

"To become pregnant or to alter the hormone dosage?" Julia shook her head quickly, knowing neither was true of sweet, patient William. "I did not inform my husband of my intention to take additional pills, nor would he have expected it of me." She sighed. "However, much as he tried to hide it, I could tell that he was disappointed with each month that I failed to conceive."

"So you did it to please your husband." There was hardly any emotion in the words, yet Julia could sense the disdain. Then, it was Miss Clark's turn to sigh. She removed her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Your actions have wasted months of work. We will wait some weeks for your system to return to normal, then we will start again. Although I am not sure if I can trust you to adhere to the scientific protocol."

"You need not worry in that regard." Julia's voice had become quiet. She forced her agitated fingers not to pluck at her blanket. "Please know that I will continue to fund your research. I truly believe that you will be successful. However, your success will not be with me."


Ostensibly, William was at work for the purpose of completing the paperwork on the murders of Mr Henshaw and Mr Hurley. Given that one was a politician, and the other a bank manager, it was a fairly high-profile case, requiring his careful and diligent write-up. However, unusually for him, his attention drifted, and he stared blankly at the file while thoughts of the previous day besieged him.

Julia in danger.

Julia injured.

Julia unwell.

He had come close to losing her far too many times. Yet usually it was at the hands of someone else: Harlen Orgill, James Gillies, Eva Pearce, Rose Maxwell, Franklin Williams and Robert Graham. But this time, it was Julia who and brought peril upon herself, however unintended.

In addition, he replayed the conversation he had conducted earlier with Doctor Harris. In short, the doctor had warned in no uncertain terms that if he had 'any semblance of control' over his wife, he would immediately put her stop to her 'foolish games' with experimental hormone treatments.

He could not dismiss the realisation that he had known almost nothing about the hormone treatment. It was only after Julia became so desperately unwell that he discovered the full nature of the research. Why did I encourage Julia in this endeavour without knowing the risks? Is my desire for a child so strong that I would be wilfully ignorant of danger to my wife? Did I deliberately fail to acquire the full information so that I would have no reason to deny us our one opportunity for a child?

He sighed, deeply, sadly.

How can I see Julia, knowing that I am at least partly to blame for her condition?


The weight of failure was oppressive, equal to the loneliness she could not shake.

The words of so many swirled within her brain. William, telling her, 'I've never known you to be one to wait for change. You always create it.'

Yet this was one instance where she was utterly unable to create the change. She could not create life. She had failed to bring about the change that William so desired.

She recalled William's words when discussing advancements in medicines, the words that had prompted her partnership with Miss Clark: 'Hardly heroic, when the risk is to others.'

Then Miss Clark's disappointment about their failed experiment.

She had tried to be brave, had offered herself up as a test subject. But against Doctor Osler's advice, she had let her desire for a child overcome her scientific mind, and in doing so destroyed the rigor of the scientific experiment, and hurt the one man for whom it was all meant to benefit.

She also recalled her old professor's other words: 'Children are the greatest gift anyone could receive. We should all know the joys of parenthood.'

If children were the greatest gift, it should therefore stand to reason that the worst thing she could possibly do would be to deny William the chance to be a father. Yet that was just what she was doing, merely by being his wife. And if she had worked that out, then William's brilliant mind must have arrived at the same conclusion.

It is hardly surprising, then, that he has no desire to see me.


William's intention to visit Julia the previous day wavered until it disappeared entirely. After closing the file on the Mr Henshaw and Mr Hurley's case – much to Mr Kirkham's relief – he had found more paperwork that just had to be completed, resulting in his leaving Station House Four late in the evening. It was then too late to visit Julia, or so he had told himself.

As a result, when Inspector Brackenreid entered the detective's office the next morning and asked how his visit went, William, unable to lie, divulged that he had still not seen his wife.

"Well go now then, Murdoch!" he exclaimed. "There are no cases needing your attention."

"I'm quite alright," William began, but the inspector continued gruffly over him.

"Even if there was a case, your wife is more important."

"I'll visit her later," he tried, but was again interrupted.

Brackenreid was frowning by that point in their exchange. "That's what you said yesterday. Do I have to order you to visit Doctor Ogden?"

William sighed, shifting uncomfortably. The last thing he needed was his well-meaning superior interfering with his marriage. He merely reiterated his previous words, "I'll visit later."

Brackenreid drew himself up as if to unleash a tirade when a tentative knock sounded upon the door frame.

"Sir, if I may." Crabtree hovered uncertainly in the entrance to William's office.

Brackenreid beckoned him in, his expression revealing his relief that there was someone else willing to try to knock some sense into his detective.

"Sir… I thought I should tell you…," George began hesitantly. "When Doctor Ogden was first brought into the hospital, after you and the inspector had left to find Miss Clarke, she asked to have a word with me. She asked me to tell you something. She told me to tell you in the event that she didn't make it, but under the circumstances, I think you should know now."

"Spit it out, Crabtree!" Brackenreid huffed, exasperated.

"Very well… She apologised for failing you!" he exclaimed as if the notion was preposterous. "She even wanted me to tell you to take some other woman as your bride if she died. As if her passing would be a benefit for you!"

Brackenreid swore, rounding on Murdoch, yet George spoke first, his voice soft and compassionate.

"And, sir, if I may be so presumptuous. Avoiding her must surely lead her to believe that she's right, don't you agree?"

For the first time, William allowed himself to truly imagine his wife, lying alone in a hospital bed. He almost echoed the inspector's curse as his stupidity dawned on him. Suddenly, he could not endure another second away from her.

"Sir." He turned to Brackenreid urgently, pleadingly.

"Go!" was all he uttered, and Murdoch dashed from the station house.


A/N: Thank you all once again for reading and for the lovely comments!