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The Beauty Doctor: A Novel

The Beauty Doctor: A Novel

Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard books

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Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard

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Read an excerpt (below) from The Beauty Doctor, a bone-chilling historical suspense-thriller set in Edwardian-era New York City. A young woman aspiring to become a physician is faced with insurmountable obstacles, until a dashing and ambitious &quot;beauty doctor&quot; offers her a position as his assistant. Drawn into a dangerous web of deception and intrigue, she begins to fear for the lives of their patients. And perhaps her own. <br /> <br /> Excerpt from Chapter Four:<br /> <br /> Abigail contemplated, not for the first time, why a handsome professional man like Franklin Rome was unmarried. Recalling what he’d insinuated about Arthur, and how he claimed to have a pretty good eye for that kind of thing, she allowed herself a moment to consider whether Dr. Rome might himself have a hidden predilection. But no, that was impossible. She remembered the little flutter in her stomach that night at the banquet when he first smiled at her and then later, again, when he leaned close, saying she intrigued him. She couldn’t deny he was immensely attractive. <br /> <br /> Unsettled by the direction of her thoughts, she reminded herself that Dr. Rome was her employer and a person from whom she might learn a great deal. Yes, he was a beauty doctor. But his credentials were impressive. That very afternoon she had helped him hang half a dozen framed diplomas on the wall of his private office, tangible proof of his training and competence. Even her father hadn’t so many certificates. Yet as Mr. Chapman had rather indelicately questioned the other night, why would a doctor waste the efforts of all that training on something as inconsequential as beauty surgery?<br /> <br /> Certainly, it might be the money. Her father would have been lucky to make a hundred dollars in six months’ time. Most of his patients were poor; he not only treated them without thought of remuneration but often was forced to pay for the medicines they needed from his own pocket. Then she remembered how, at the Hennessys’ banquet, Dr. Rome had referred to the work of a doctor as the medical arts. That was it, of course! He did, in fact, strike her as the artistic type; more than once, she had admired the gracefulness of his long fingers, imagining them holding a blade—cutting and shaping human flesh, much like a sculptor molds clay. If Dr. Rome was a physician with the soul of an artist, it was understandable why he might become a beauty doctor. <br /> <br /> She thought again of Isabelle Hadley and how her first success as Dr. Rome’s &quot;foil&quot; had given her an unexpected sense of pride. Already, she was embracing her new role with more enthusiasm than she’d anticipated. Why shouldn’t she? It was surely better than the awful dispiritedness that had plagued her since her father’s death. Besides, she enjoyed the sense of collegiality she shared with Dr. Rome. Yes, she was only an office girl, but he occasionally spoke to her about medicine and surgery and how far it all had come in recent years. She remembered how effusive he had become last week when the autoclave was delivered to the office. He’d explained in great detail about the steam sterilizer. It was one of the most important inventions of the late nineteenth century, he’d said. Many problems could be avoided by sterilizing instruments before they were used in patients. When he’d unpacked it from the crate, he’d told her how—<br /> <br /> She threw off the comforter, every nerve in her body alert. The delivery! How could she have forgotten to tell Dr. Rome about the man who had stopped by the office after he’d left for the day?<br /> <br /> Hastily, she lit the lamp, jumped out of bed, and began dressing, all the while replaying the conversation in her mind from late that afternoon. It had been awkward and very strange. She was locking up around five o’clock when a squat, unkempt little man appeared on the doorstep. Right away, she noticed his nose, which was large and misshapen, with a red, bulbous tip. Assuming he was a prospective patient, she gave him a card and instructed him to call the office in the morning for an appointment. <br /> <br /> With obvious impatience, he crumpled the card in his hand. “You can’t get in touch with him?”<br /> <br /> “Well, I might—”<br /> <br /> “Yes or no.” <br /> <br /> She didn’t answer, put off by his rudeness. Who was he to speak to her in such a manner? <br /> <br /> “Just tell him Shark said to look for a delivery tonight, same time as before,” he said without waiting. “Got it?”<br /> <br /> “What kind of delivery?” <br /> <br /> “He’ll know. Tell him midnight, just like he wanted.” <br /> <br /> “Midnight? Why, that’s ridiculous! Nobody makes deliveries at that hour.” <br /> <br /> “Look, lady, I ain’t got time for parlor games. I make a lot o’ deliveries. The day ain’t long enough for all of ‘em, so I work late. The doc says he don’t mind. Just tell him, all right? And make sure you don’t forget.” <br /> <br /> Pulling on her boots, she pictured again his dissipated look, the malicious twist to his lips, the wrinkled gray sack suit, and the shabby bowler perched precariously on his wide head. A shiver of revulsion ran through her. A rendezvous with such a fellow, alone and in the dark of night, was the last thing she wanted, but now there was no choice. She would conduct whatever brief transaction might be necessary and leave the delivery for Dr. Rome to find in the morning. He would never have to know how irresponsible she’d been in failing to inform him. <br /> <br /> She went to the door and stepped outside. The stars, covered by a haze of clouds, provided only scant light, but the glimmer of electric street lamps made up for any deficit. She climbed the half dozen stairs from her room and then the short flight to the office entrance, unlocked the door, and entered. Inside was pitch-black. She felt her way to the desk and lit the lamp. Her eyes scanned the dim interior. The room in which she had grown accustomed to spending her days seemed somehow foreign at night, its sense of comfort reliant on sunlight streaming through the tall windows that now were shrouded in velvet drapery. She looked toward the dark hallway leading to the operating room and Dr. Rome’s private office and felt a vague apprehension, as if something sinister lurked beyond her small circle of light. <br /> <br /> Available in paperback, Kindle and KU. Audiobook coming soon! <a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.com%2FBeauty-Doctor-Elizabeth-Hutchison-Bernard-ebook%2Fdp%2FB0CK9RFLSN%2Fref%3Dsr_1_1%3Fcrid%3D1M5RGHWN0RN5O%26keywords%3Dthe%2Bbeauty%2Bdoctor%26qid%3D1705955058%26s%3Ddigital-text%26sprefix%3D%252Cdigital-text%252C488%26sr%3D1-1&amp;h=AT3NFCtppEtO9i1gcFzWxQqflrzAvUatNiifWGD16trAfGlobX_Zg8gaHVDw8bVpFK2-VW3btfZjLDu_B8jDC5GQgZZ8oMVV20ZLbjjhOXl_x-y9D9WSyEnyty77juWXQETAZUo5073rsiV3U_iHO5nyAaC5hDQqZa8Zhg" rel="nofollow noreferrer" target="_blank" data-lynx-mode="asynclazy">https://www.amazon.com/Beauty-Doctor-Elizabeth-Hutchison-Bernard-ebook/dp/B0CK9RFLSN/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1M5RGHWN0RN5O&amp;keywords=the+beauty+doctor&amp;qid=1705955058&amp;s=digital-text&amp;sprefix=%2Cdigital-text%2C488&amp;sr=1-1</a>

Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard books

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