Tuesday, October 20, 1868. Midday.
Phillips Harbour
Slate's hooves clip-clop against the cobbles of Craft Street, one of the few paved roads in Phillips Harbour. The day before, Dr. Townes and Dr. Greene had attended to the aftermath of a grisly accident at the lumbermill. The ropes on a massive log had slipped earlier, and one middle-aged worker's leg had been crushed beneath it. A messenger had been dispatched to bring the doctor immediately. It was already too late to save the man's leg, unfortunately, but with the amputation on the previous day, they hoped to have saved his life.
Bernice is now returning from a visit to check on the man and change the dressing. Thankfully, there's no sign of infection yet. She plans to check on the Englishman's chimpanzee next, but first she decides to stop at the inn for something to eat.
As soon as she enters The Red Flag, Gertie greets her with a wave and a wide smile. "G'd afternoon, Miss Townes!"
Bernice returns the smile warmly and brightly, making her way across the inn to greet the younger woman. "Good afternoon to you, Gertie!" she says. "I hope you've been well! I'm afraid the doctor's had me scurrying, I wish I'd had more time to look in on you and see how you're doing."
"I've been all right, miss. It's been a busy harvest for everyone, seems, full of good an' bad." Her mouth twists. "I useta think I'd like more excitement in this town, but now I'm not so sure. Is there anything I can get for you?"
Townes glances around the inn thoughtfully. "I can certainly agree with that sentiment, dear. I could do with rather less excitement myself. Ah, well. If wishes were nickles, I'd be a millionaire by now." Seeing little activity so far, Bernice thinks briefly, then adds, "I think a light meal would do nicely, perhaps a bit of bread and soup, if there's some on?"
"Always, miss." Gertie smiles again, her cheeks dimpling, before she heads for the kitchen. "Would you have ought to drink with that?" She pauses by the door jamb.
Bernice bobs her head quickly, causing a flyaway lock to cross her tanned features. "Oh, thank you for reminding me! Yes, a nice cup of tea would be lovely."
Gertie disappears into the kitchen, leaving Bernice alone for the moment. It's strange to see The Red Flag does so empty -- Bernice must have missed the usual lunch crowd. A tabby cat laze in the puddle of sunlight under one window, and she can hear some children playing in the street outside. But at the moment, she's the only customer.
The doctor looks around curiously, the quiet a bit conspicuous, but with nothing to be made of it, she simple chooses a place to sit for her lunch. She naturally gravitates near to where the cat is sitting, murmuring a friendly "Hello, puss-puss!" to it and making herself comfortable.
The tabby cracks open one eye and twitches a whisker at her, looking already comfortable himself, and not up to bestirring himself for much of a greeting. A few moments later, Gertie bustles back in, bearing bread, bowl, and mug on a tray. "And how are you, Miss Townes? Aunt says Mr. Larsen at the mill got messed up something awful yesterday, and you an' the doc looked after him?"
Bernice scootches her seat forward, looking eagerly into her bowl, a couple weeks in town having conditioned her to look forward to meals at the Red Flag. The aroma of thick and creamy clam chowder greets her. "Mmm, just the thing for a chilly fall day." She looks up to reply, draping a napkin over her lap as she does so. "Well, I'm always worrying about this and that, but for the time being, I'm probably rather better off than poor Mr. Larsen. His leg was wounded very severely, it had to be removed. He's resting now, and seems all right, all things considered, but I feel for him. Now I'm just taking a little of my free time to see what's gone about town before I go see how the englishman and his chimp are faring. Seems like there was an uproar with Mrs. Everchild a few days ago, I wondered about that."
Gertie's mouth forms a round 'O' as she hears the millworker's fate. "Poor Mr. Larsen! Aunt said she'd heard he lost the leg, but I'd hoped it was just a rumor. You know how gossip goes." She gives a soft sigh. "But what's this about Mrs. Everchild? I don't recollect her havin' any special troubles."
The older woman takes another quick look around the commons room, then gestures at the chair opposite her with a smile. "Have you had lunch yet, dear? Or have you been on your feet all day? It looks quiet, sit with me a little bit." Bernice nods, and takes a spoonful of chowder, then a sip of tea. "I'm afraid he did, but at least the procedure was clean. As for Mrs. Everchild... I was leaving church the other sunday and heard a row between her and some of the local folk. No word's gone around about that?"
The barmaid furrows her brow for a moment, and then insight dawns upon her. "Oh! You mean over Madame Mysteria! I'd forgotten the old widow'd gotten herself mixed up in that old argument, too." Her lips purse, looking tense and uncertain.
Bernice tilts her head, looking puzzled. "Madame Mysteria? I think I've heard the name, and now that you mention it, I think she exchanged some hot words... I don't think I caught everything that happened, so I'm probably confusing things. I don't really know much about any of them."
"Well ... " Gertie glances around the empty room, then lowers her voice. "I can tell you what it was about, like enough. Same as ever. The madame -- you can tell, surely, she ain't like us." What, exactly, Gertie means by 'us' isn't entirely clear to Bernice. But she does recall that Mysteria was a tan-skinned, black-haired woman, with a gypsy look about her, especially in her choice of clothes. "I mean, she goes to church an' all. But she tells fortunes and folk say she works magic with her crystal ball and her funny cards and herbs and stuff. It ain't Christian, is it?"
The doctor flinches inwardly, but on the surface simply taps her chin. "Mm.. she swept in with the rest of the assortment that rolled into town earlier, right? It seems a silly question, but there've been so very many faces to keep straight, and it seems like this has happened before. Did she upset someone?"
"Oh, no, no, the Madame's a local, Miss Townes. Well, mostly local. She's lived here more'n a decade, at any rate. Some folks, like ol' Jake Green's wife, love her stuff even if they don't want to be too vocal 'bout it. But there's always been others who think it ain't godly. I think the reverend's sermon got 'em started again. You don't suppose she really is doing the devil's work, do you? I mean, she does come to church, right?" Gertie looks genuinely torn.
Bernice takes another spoonful of chowder to give her time to think a bit, a little torn as well. When she sets her spoon back down, she carries a thoughtful expression. "Well Gertie, I can't rightly say for certain. Here I go putting funny ideas in your head again, so don't let it catch you any heat! But it seems safe to say that the Madame wasn't originally from around here. We saw lots of queer folk pass through Boston, from all kinds of places. Plenty didn't know God, and had odd customs, ways of dealing with the world around them, but it wasn't to say they were doing the Devil's work either. I expect the China girl has some strange ideas on what makes rain or what brings luck, for instance."
Gertie looks a little reassured. "I always thought her for harmless, myself. I mean, what's it to me if she sells purses of dried herbs for luck, when uncle tosses a pinch of salt over his shoulder instead? But some folks ... you heard 'em, or some of it. They think she's bringin' deviltry on the town. Like maybe that's why we're gettin' all these strange folks -- yourself excepted, miss -- in lately, and queer doings with animals attacking and bodies turning up an' goin' missing." She shivers.
The doctor nods, clinking her spoon at the bottom of her bowl as she scoops up another bite. "Just so. And as I say, I can't know for sure. It's just reasonable to judge based on what we do know, rather than some odd customs." A sip of tea follows, along with a bit of bread broken off. "I certainly do worry about all the genuinely strange things going on. I've worked with plenty of animals, and mercy, never heard about the like as been going on. Speaking of which..." Bernice glances at the window, noting the shadows getting a bit longer. "I'm probably due to check in on the englishman soon. I'd best pick up my feet! Thank you for chatting with batty old me again, Gertie."
Another quick smile from the maid. "It's a pleasure, Miss Townes. Do stop in more often, it's good to see you! I'm sorry you can't stay longer," she says, gathering up the used dishes.