Trails of Intertwined Stars: Chapter 74 {Part 1}

~Chapter 127: The Surgery~

So, as I told my sister, I opened a surgery in London close to Whitechapel. You have to understand, the surgery wasn't just an excuse to go off and hide from Duncan; it had actually been a dream of mine to open one ever since I'd been taught science. The human body, the human mind, the human... condition; absolutely fascinated me beyond words. So, if I were to hole away from the threat of my own estate, I would rather do so doing something I took pleasure from. The establishment was in a mediocre area, at best, but most of London seems to be slums nowadays, so for an area close to Whitechapel; it was the best of the best. Originally, my surgery was not just for prostitutes to get rid of their children; originally it had been much broader in what we dealt with.

I recall, at its opening days, this old business man came in. Tumor removal; or so I recall. I, of course, did not do the procedure; I had a professional surgeon for that, but considering the wealth of the patient, considering he was a man of status like myself, I found myself greeting him once the procedure had been dealt with. His name was Lord Brandon; yes, my late-wife's father. That was how I met him, through work. We talked a bit, first about the procedure and how he found it. Then he went on about how he wanted it sorted as he was planning on going on a cruise with his family. Then we spoke of the wider world, and he asked me about my aspirations in life. And then, somehow he started to discuss how I was a charming young man, and how he had a daughter without a husband, and he thought me a perfect fit. Now, on any occasion, I would have said no. I've had women fling themselves left and right at me, from the very poor to the mildly rich; I'm not so easily swayed by confessions, after all I had inherited my father's charming looks so I was used to being every woman's ideal prince charming, and a father of some woman wasn't going to change that for me. But I seemed to have recalled, in the back of my memory, how he'd mentioned he was an extremely wealthy business man; after all, he had to be to travel and purchase as much as he did. And I even started to remember him briefly mentioning something about buying his only daughter a house by the Thames, the best of the best sort of house that was far from the manor I was escaping.

So, I obviously went through with it, and met Lady Brandon a week later. She was as gorgeous as me, something she clearly hadn't inherited from her father, and I thought to myself that at least she would be a rather pretty token of mine to walk around with. And then she opened her mouth. And then I started to feel my eyes involuntarily roll back into my head, as if trying desperately to collapse to burn her grating voice out of my head. The more time I spent with that woman, the more infuriating she became, and I think she started to notice it too. But neither of us refused the engagement when her father brought it to our intention; I had my motives, and I'm almost certain she must have had hers too. I couldn't care less what they were, as long as I got far away from Duncan, and his dreadful mind games.

Time passed and the surgery had started to become less of a place for admirable causes and more for prostitutes that had unfortunately fallen pregnant. I was rather upset by the tainting of my surgery, as anyone would be, so I hired a banker to help set my funds right to try to fix it all...his name, was Lord Bramston. Another rich man, like myself, who was in the habit of trying to purchase every estate he could. He admitted to me though, as embarrassing as it was, he was still a bachelor, and how lucky I must be to be engaged to a well-done woman. Lord Bramston had my ideals in some respect, and he was a greedy sod, so if I offered him what he wanted I was certain he'd take it without hesitation. Perhaps Duncan wasn't haunting me specifically, perhaps he was haunting who may become the Head of the manor, after all he was supposed to be. It would make sense. To haunt the role of what you lost. I told him I had a darlingly gorgeous younger sister at home, who I was hoping to marry; that we had no father to find a suitor for her, and I desperately wanted her to marry a man with good wealth and a strong business ethic. Bramston made no hesitation upon accepting my offer, and, much like me, was rather eager to marry off Leora. I assume it was to get a taste for the house, to feel like a lord with a wife in a lovely estate home.

He also taught me that I would profit more with my surgery if I delved more into the abortion aspect I had been so desperately trying to avoid. Wanting to seem friendly, I took his advice, and unfortunately found it was true: the more I labelled it for desperate women hoping to get a fresh start, the more business I received. The more profits came it. But it felt like such an ugly cause.