Doctor Gassners Greatest Scheme Ch 04

Chapter 4: End Game

London, England - 1869

The party of five—Gassner, Mary, Caroline, Florence, and Violet—took the train from Aberdeen to London, all fitting into one compartment. The ladies stayed at the nearby Brown's Hotel as Gassner prepared to close his lucrative practice.

The final accounting of the business revealed a very handsome profit—measured in many thousands of pounds. As per their arrangement, he gave half the profit to his business partner—Lord Hatherly, formerly William Wood. Gassner was nothing if not honest in his business dealings.

The met for one final time at White's. They toasted with the best claret available.

"To your further adventures, sir," Lord Hatherly said, raising his glass. "May you arrive safely at your final destination."

"Thank you, my Lord Baron. I have much enjoyed our partnership. As I once promised, it has been a prosperous partnership for both of us. Has it not?"

"Indeed, sir. Indeed. And the profit is not merely measured in Pounds Sterling." Lord Hatherly shook his head as he contemplated the past few years. "You saved my marriage, sir. Through your efforts, I got my heir. Your advice was invaluable in attaining my current position." He smiled. "No, my dear friend, our partnership has been more—

far more

—than simply 'prosperous'. I owe you everything, sir!"

Gassner smiled softly and shook his head in refutation of his companion's assertion. "It has been a mutually beneficial partnership. I shall want for nothing in the New World."

"Oh—is that where you're headed, then?"

"At first, yes. I am escorting two women and an infant to the Province of Canada. They have relatives there, or so I'm told. Then ... after? Well, we shall see. We shall see."

"You are a good man, Doctor Gassner. It has been a privilege to have been your partner." Hatherly paused. "Yet, I must say—I have a bit of concern regarding your departure."

"And pray tell, what can that concern be, my Lord Baron?"

"My wife. Your, uh, therapy. You told me it could fade over time."

"Ah, yes. That. Well, I have been providing therapy for your wife for some years, have I not?"

Lord Hatherly nodded.

"Then I should expect the resultant, ah, mood to persist."

"But for how long, sir? For how long? You told me the mood was delicate and could be overturned."

"I did, indeed. And you have been careful not to overturn it, yes?"

Hatherly nodded again.

"Then it should persist. For years, I imagine. Possibly for the rest of your lives. So long as you are careful; so long as you continue to be the loving and caring husband to your wife, then she will continue to be the loving and caring wife you desire. She shall continue to put your desires and needs above her own."

Hatherly's face flushed slightly at Gassner's comment.

Gassner smiled. "

Ahh

—so, then: she has already demonstrated her devotion in a tangible manner?"

Hatherly nodded, saying nothing.

"It shall be as I say, then. Do nothing to provoke her and she shall continue to be your devoted wife. In

all

things."

*****

Banff, Alberta, the Province of Canada - 1870

The Lady Frances Harriet Greville, age 46, daughter of Duke Wellington's Private Secretary and widowed wife of Duke Charles Henry Gordon-Lennox, did not know how to greet her visitors. She was unsure of exactly how much affection to show them.

Her two daughters had arrived at the height of winter, after braving the long trek from Calgary. With them came one with a young daughter, Violet—her granddaughter. The father of Violet Gordon-Lennox remained unnamed, but Lady Frances was certain she knew the name of the man who had got her daughter, Caroline, with child. Frances was absolutely sure her late husband, Charles, was the father—even if Caroline denied the accusations repeatedly. Now Caroline and her granddaughter were here in Banff, along with Frances' other daughter, Florence, who had turned nineteen during her extended absence from Aberdeen.

The three of them were family, and so would be taken in. But the others? That was a different story. Who were Doctor Gassner and his nurse-assistant, Mary? They had accompanied her daughters from London. Her daughters had invited him to partake of such hospitality as Banff could provide, for no reason she could fathom. She was asked to accept the two outsiders as she accepted her daughters and the infant—but she was uncertain as to exactly how much hospitality and courtesy to extend.

Not that there was much hospitality and courtesy to extend her in the mountains of the Canada Province, while winter roared outside their cozy log cabin. Their home was luxurious by the standards of the province—yet to British eyes the twelve-bedroom estate must be rough and entirely unrefined. Vulgar, some might say.

Looking at Violet's dark curls and comparing them to Doctor Gassner's dark curls, Lady Frances was suddenly unsure of herself. It was possible—just possible—that Gassner, and not Charles, was Violet's father. If that were true, then that fact would explain his presence here—and it would mean that she had done her now-deceased husband a

grave

injustice.

The five entered her household, upsetting her careful routine and taxing her sparse staff. Her loyal Butler, Henry, kept his famous aplomb, but she could tell he was filled with exasperation at the strains on her and the staff that the newcomers instigated with their arrival. At a minimum, caring for a baby girl aged not quite two years was a challenge for the entire household. Frances was pleased and proud to note that Henry hid his true feelings well and simply got on with things, in true British fashion. Only she, who knew him so well after years of service, could see underneath his mask of gruff stoicism.

Henry had been with her since she had married Charles. How long had it been now? Twenty-seven years. He had been with them for 27 years—25 spent in Scotland and two of them spent in exile here, with her. Henry Menzies Acheson met her husband when they served together in the King's Royal Rifle Corps. Her Charles had been Aide-de-Camp to the 2

nd

Duke of Wellington; Henry had been a Sergeant, recently promoted from Lance Sergeant. Somehow, somewhere, they had met and—as men in military service are wont to do—they struck up a friendship. That friendship became a close bond. When Charles left the service to marry her, he took Henry with him. That was 27 years ago.

Frances pulled him aside as soon as she could.

"What do you make of this 'Doctor'?" she asked her long-time confidante.

"Not sure yet, my Lady," he replied. "They say actions speak louder than words."

She nodded in agreement. "You will keep a close eye them? Let me know if they get up to any mischief?"

"Aye, my Lady."

"Good." She patted his arm. "I know I can always rely on you, Henry. You are my rock."

*****

Banff was cold—colder than Scotland—though the calendar proclaimed that Spring was not far away. Supplies had dwindled during the harshest snows of winter; the arrival of four hungry adults plus one squalling child compelled a trip to the nearest town for replenishments. The nearest town of any size was Calgary, some 80 miles to the East. Thus, the trip would be arduous and would require at least two weeks to complete—perhaps three if the weather was uncooperative. Most of the household staff departed, along with a train of wagons and horses—leaving Lady Frances with only two cooks, three maids, and her loyal Henry to entertain their five visitors.

Caroline and Florence pitched in to assist with household chores while the staff was away. Mary watched little Violet in order to free Caroline to care for the house. For his part, Doctor Gassner tried to do what he could, though it quickly became clear that his talents—whatever they may be—lay elsewhere other than the domestic duties associated with keeping house in the dead of a Canadian winter.

Thus, Gassner often found himself the subject of Henry's inquisitive conversations. Some may have called them interrogations. Gassner tried to relax and answer Henry's questions as best he could. One dark day, the two men sat by the fire, sipping beer.

"No, I never served," Gassner admitted right away. "I grew up in India. Father was an Administrator; Mother was ... mother. We had a spot of trouble with the natives from time to time, as I'm sure you are well aware, Sergeant Acheson."

"Just Henry, please," came reply. "Been a long time since I've been in the ranks."

"As you wish, Henry. Yet your bearing is still that of a young Sergeant. I bet you could still load, shoot, and hit your target before most men could find their powder."

Henry smiled tightly at the compliment, but did not otherwise reply.

Gassner continued. "In any case, rather than focus on physical prowess, my area of concentration has been on the powers of the mind. Have you heard of the

fakirs?

Fascinating people! Some of them are fierce warriors, you know. Yet their goals are to subjugate their physical bodies to the powers of their minds. They can do the most unbelievable things!"

"I see," said Henry. "And you ... what? You studied these fakers?"

"That's right.

Fakirs,

yogis, sadhus, swamis, gurus. Even priests of arcane Chinese religions. I studied them all—or as much as a white person would be allowed to study. They aren't exactly fond of we Englishmen. Still, I gleaned what I could. What I gleaned I attempted to practice."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Doctor. Practice what?"

"

Ahh!

Would you care for a little demonstration?"

Henry nodded.

"Well, the first thing you must do is relax. I don't suppose you're much for relaxing, are you?"

"No, sir. Not on duty, anyways."

"Would you mind taking a hot bath?" Gassner hastened to add, "Not for cleanliness, but for relaxation! Just spend a few minutes in the tub, relaxing. That should put you in a receptive mood."

Henry let himself be persuaded, then he let himself be led to the bath, once it was prepared. He wouldn't let anybody bathe him, though. "Do it myself," he said, gruffly. Neither Mary nor Gassner were of a mind to argue with him.

Fifteen minutes later, Henry came out of the tub, his damp hair the only sign that he had bathed. At Gassner's request, he wore only a dressing gown, as if he were preparing to retire for the evening—though it was only four in the afternoon at the moment. Dinner would be served in three hours.

"Very good!" Gassner said. "Now lie here on this settee, if you would. Yes, just like that. Perfect!"

Henry gazed at him with suspicious eyes. Those eyes became less suspicious as Gassner asked him several easily answered questions. After some time passed, those eyes became heavy ... until they closed.

By the time his session with Doctor Gassner was over, Henry had realized two important things. First, he realized that it was time to consider the next phase of his life. He had served nearly 15 years in the Army. He had fought in several battles, always with bravery and distinction. Then he followed the Duke to Aberdeen, where he attended His Grace and his Lady Frances, and their growing family. He had followed Lady Frances to Canada, at the Duke's request—to keep her safe from harm. He had served the Gordon-Lennox family for 27 years—again, always with loyalty and distinction in all matters. Now he was approaching 58 years, as best he could count. Fifty-eight years old. Without a wife, though he had found companionship with several willing women along the way.

His Duke had passed at age 52—a clear sign of man's mortality, of

his

mortality. Henry realized he was running out of time before he must surrender to God's will and leave this Earth.

The second important thing Henry realized was that he didn't want to be alone anymore. But not just that: he wanted to have a loving relationship. He desperately wanted a wife. But not just that: he realized what had been hidden for decades—he realized that

he wanted Frances.

She was a widow now, available if he but had the nerve to court her. He—a commoner—would have to court the widow of a Duke. His Duke. It would take courage, he realized. But he had never lacked for courage. Courage he had; he would approach the courting—the wooing—of his Lady as he would approach a military campaign. He must win the battle, the battle of her heart.

Because he realized this afternoon that he loved Frances. He had loved her for decades. It was only today—this very afternoon—that he realized how deeply he felt for her. He loved her. He wished to turn the grief of her widowhood into joy. He wished to make her happy in all ways. If she would consent to marry him, she would make him the happiest man on this planet. They could continue living here in Canada else return to Scotland. He didn't care where they lived or how they lived. He only wanted his love returned to him. If she said she loved him, he would be happy and content until God should choose to call him home.

Henry also realized that Lady Frances, herself, should experience a session or two with Doctor Gassner. Gassner was a good man, Henry concluded. A bit on the queer side, with some heretical beliefs. But he did good work. He had calmed the Lady Florence. Perhaps the Doctor's foibles could be overlooked since he did such good work. Not everyone was destined to be a soldier on the field. Some had to fight other fights, as Doctor Gassner did.

Henry smiled at the results of his session with the Doctor. He smiled, and resolved to discuss Gassner with Lady Frances at the earliest possible opportunity.

*****

The staff returned a fortnight later to find a changed house. After the provisions had been put away, and they had warmed themselves at the fire in the great hall, Lady Frances called them together. She had an announcement to make.

"First things first, let me thank you all for making such an arduous and perilous journey to Calgary, and for returning safely with the necessary supplies. Thank you all—and there will be an extra five pounds in each of your pay this month."

The staff smiled, letting the aches and pains of the trail recede into memory. It

had

been a hard journey, but now they were back home—safe, warm, and five pounds richer for the experience. Lady Frances was a good woman!

"Second, I wish you to know that Henry Acheson, our Butler for these many years and my closest confidante—

my dearest friend

—has asked for my hand in marriage. And I have agreed to marry him."

The staff murmured. In the circles of British nobility, their murmurs were equivalent to shouting.

"I realize that this may seem sudden and unexpected. Perhaps it is. Yet I have been a widow for more than a year; it is time for the grieving period to be over. And Henry has been with me for more than 25 years, loyally supporting me without a hint of complaint."

Frances smiled and shook her head, as if she, too, had difficulty believing her own words. "Recently, I have discovered that I not only rely on Henry, but I also have come to care for him—very much. We are British and we don't discuss such things—especially with the staff—yet I thought you all deserved to know, to understand. You who have been with me through thick and thin: I want you to understand my heart."

Lady Frances beckoned and Henry walked up to stand next to her. She reached down, took his hand, and raised it to her lips. Henry's face, which was already red, darkened further.

A moment later, one of the senior maidservants raised her hand. "Ma'am?" she said in a nervous voice. "Your Ladyship, if it please you? A question, Ma'am."

"Yes, Thelma. Pray, ask your question of me, or of Henry."

"Yes, Your Ladyship. It is just ... how should we address you and, um, Henry? Afterwards, I mean."

"Ahh, yes. That is a

good

question, Thelma."

The maid bobbed her head in response to the compliment.

"Henry will continue to be Henry to me and to my family, but Mister Acheson to you. Is that clear? He is marrying the widow of a Peer but he, himself, is not a member of the Peerage. Thus, there is neither need nor reason to refer to him by anything other than his given surname."

There were murmurs of agreement.

"As for me, I will ask you to continue to address me as Lady Frances. Within these walls I will still be Lady Frances. Outside, officially, I will become Mrs. Acheson, the former Lady Gordon-Lennox, the former wife of a Duke of the Realm. Is that clear to you all?"

"Yes, my Lady. Clear as a bell, Ma'am," Thelma answered for them all.

"Very good." Frances hesitated. "I have just a few more things to discuss, since I have you all together at one time."

The staff looked at her, waiting.

"First, Henry will become the head of this household. His former duties will be taken by another—another of his choosing, not mine. Henry—Mister Acheson—will be the man of this house and I expect you to obey him as such, just as I will. Is that also clear?"

Nods and murmurs of agreement met her pronouncement.

"Very good! I should mention that Henry has already moved his things into my bedroom—

our

bedroom. He will spend the nights there, as my husband. Let there be no gossip about this arrangement! Both of us are getting up in years and we did not wish any delay for formalities! We care for each other and we love each other dearly. That is sufficient for us. In the Spring, we will have a small ceremony to make our relationship official. But I require you to treat our relationship as being official as of this moment in time."

"Yes, Ma'am," Thelma said for them all. "Congratulations to both you and Hen—Mister Acheson."

Frances smiled. Her smile was full of love. The staff hadn't seen such a smile on her face since well before the move to Canada. Henry was moved to put his arm around her in front of the staff.

Somebody started clapping. The clapping grew. Cheers and whistles followed. Henry's red face turned even redder, if such a thing were possible. Frances' smile grew.

It was a good day for the Acheson household.

*****

Later that night, Frances and Henry lay in their bed together. Henry lay on his back with Frances nestled into the crook of his arm. They were both smiling.

"The staff took the news well, don't you think?" Frances offered.

"Aye—better than I hoped." He snuggled her closer. "I can't hardly believe this, myself. You; me. Us. Together. It's like a dream come true."

"For me as well, my love. For me as well."

Henry turned to face his fiancée. "You really mean that?"

She nodded firmly. "I do mean that, Henry. I do. I recently realized that I have had feelings for you, feelings I have kept hidden—even from myself. I have wanted to be with you for a long time."

"Same for me, my—"

Frances' finger covered his lips. "Frances. Not 'my Lady'. Not ever again—especially not in our bedroom. You must promise me, Henry. To you, I am 'Frances'. Promise me."

"I promise," Henry said gruffly. His lips kissed her finger.

"And you must promise me one more thing, my love."

"What's that, uh, Frances?"

"When we are in our marital bed, together, you must stop treating me as a noble woman. Stop treating me as if I was some sort of porcelain Chinese vase, as if I might fracture into a thousand pieces at the slightest bit of pressure." She kissed his lips gently. "When we are in bed, together, you must make me your wife. Do you understand me?"

Henry nodded. He might have said something but Frances moved her lips to the side of his neck, kissing him there. He felt her tongue caress his neck. Then she moved lower, kissing his hirsute chest and gently sucking on his nipples.