Page 167 of The Sisters of Sea View
In the corridor, the stout man awaited them. He introduced himself as William Snede, hospital administrator. “You are looking for your son, I gather?”
“Yes, Major Hutton. Is he all right?”
The administrator nodded. “He was to be next. But Abner Cleeves will not be performing any more experimental surgeries, not if I have anything to say about it. This way.”
“Thank God,” Viola breathed, finally able to accept that the major was alive and well. No doubt still angry with her, but as long as he was alive, the rest she could deal with later.
Snede opened a door and preceded them inside.
From behind the administrator, she heard the major ask, “Where is Cleeves?”
“He will not be performing any more surgeries here today or ever again, Lord willing—thanks to this young woman, who alerted me to his presence.”
“What young woman?”
Snede turned to the side, arm sweeping in her direction. “I am afraid I did not get their names.”
Major Hutton frowned. “What is going on here? Papa, if you used your influence to postpone the proceedings, I will not thank you for interfering.”
“On the contrary,” Snede said. “Their interference was most timely and appreciated. Thank you, Miss...” He peered closely at Viola’s face and only then did she remember she was not wearing a veil. He said, “I say, that’s a tidy little scar. Did Cleeves do that?”
“No. I went to France to have his work repaired.”
“Ah. That makes more sense. For a moment, I thought he might have improved, but apparently not.” He turned back to the major. “I promise you, sir, you do not want that man and his scalpel anywhere near you.”
“Will someone else here perform the procedure, then?”
“No, I don’t recommend it. The ancients attempted epidermic transplant, but we have little skill or experience in the present age.”
“Then, what am I supposed to do?”
The older man rested a hand on the major’s shoulder. “Be glad you are alive, to begin with, and be thankful to have people in your life who love you, as these two clearly do.”
———
After that, they found Colin and Armaan in another waiting room, and explanations were given once again.
“Never liked the man,” Armaan said.
Colin shrugged. “Smart dresser, though.”
A short while later, they all departed the hospital together.
On the journey home, Colin rode with his father in the chaise. Armaan insisted on riding on the outside of the major’s carriage, despite the rain, leaving Viola and Major Hutton alone together inside, although within sight through a small window for propriety’s sake, and in calling distance should either of them need anything.
The brass lamps lit, the major handed her a lap rug and settled a second around himself. He stared out the window at the Exeter streets, then out into the passing countryside as daylight began to fade. She wondered if he was still upset with her for arguing and for further interfering today, yet he said nothing either way.
Finally, she asked, “Are you still angry?”
“Only with myself.” After a moment he added, “I am sorry I did not listen to you.”
“That’s all right. I am just glad you are well.”
He nodded, and he was silent for a few moments longer.
“Warm enough?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes,” she replied, and an instant later wished back her quick answer, thinking he might have shared his blanket with her, or sat closer, had she said she was cold.
