Page 3 of Doctor Hardy and the Hysteria Machine (The Doctor’s Pleasure #1)

Chapter Two

T hree days later, Beatrice found herself outside the new clinic at ten o’clock. Lady Alice had written to the mysterious Doctor Hardy on her behalf and arranged an appointment.

She rang the doorbell. It gave a harsh and urgent cry, and Beatrice pulled the black woolen cloak tighter around her trembling shoulders.

The arrangement was most unusual. Hysteria treatments were no longer a novelty for the modern women of London, but these intimate procedures were always performed in the sanctuary of one’s parlor at home.

Not that her parents would ever sanction such a scandalous experiment, even with her future and marriage on the line.

Beatrice shifted her weight between her feet, waiting. All around, passersby hurried on with their day, oblivious to her furiously pounding heart.

Imogen, a good friend and the most daring woman Beatrice knew, had spoken of her own hysteria treatments. The good doctor, half-blind with advanced age, undressed and examined her nether region most intimately. Imogen had lowered her voice and whispered, heat tinting her pale cheeks: He touched me inside, Beatrice. His two fingers felt around in my cunny, then he declared my womb ‘wandering’.

Beatrice was no student of medicine, but she was skeptical of the idea of Imogen’s internal organs taking a leisurely stroll of their own volition, hysteria or no hysteria.

Will this Doctor Hardy perform the same shocking examination on her untouched body? Her nervous fingers closed into a fist.

Desperation, however, nudged her hand towards the doorbell once more.

A few minutes passed before the door opened to reveal a slender blonde woman. She wore a starched apron over a light blue dress, and a spotless white bonnet.

“You must be Lady Beatrice,” she greeted, “My name is Agnes, Doctor Hardy’s assistant. He has been expecting you.”

Agnes led Beatrice through the door and down a short hallway. “Lady Alice wrote about your fainting spell in her letter. Have you been treated for hysteria before?”

“I haven't. But my friend has told me what it generally entails.”

Agnes nodded and showed her into what looked like an examination room. “Doctor Hardy's methods are more… unconventional.”

“Unconventional?”

“Revolutionary.” The doctor's pretty assistant declared with surprising fervor. “I can personally assure you that his treatment is the most effective in London. But first, let’s get you undressed.”

B eatrice lay on the cherry wood and red velvet examination couch. Stripped down to only her chemise, she waited for the doctor under a thin white sheet. Agnes, after making sure the patient was comfortable, had gone to fetch him.

Feeling restless, she glanced around at her surroundings. The examination room was understated and homely. Heavy curtains were tightly drawn, likely to preserve her privacy, leaving the room illuminated by gaslights.

To her left, a low flame danced and crackled in the fireplace, keeping her body warm in its current state of undress. To her right was a small writing desk and a chair.

In the far back corner of the room stood a large box of polished dark wood, its heavy lid secured by an intricate lock.

She stretched out under the sheet and wriggled her toes, relaxing somewhat. There was something about the soft-spoken Agnes that put Beatrice quite at ease. And her unreserved endorsement of Doctor Hardy’s medical prowess was certainly reassuring.

She closed her eyes and willed her heart to quieten. She would go through this revolutionary treatment, and her nerves would improve. Then perhaps, she’d be able to bare her heart to Eric without fainting.

After all, Beatrice decided with a lovelorn sigh, there was nothing in the world she wouldn’t do to win him back.