Feodor’s knowledge of hypnosis was more thorough than that of any other doctor Johanna had met, even in the East. He agreed with her belief that insanity was not merely the result of lesions of the brain, but often stemmed from purely emotional causes. He shared her hope that hypnosis might prove an invaluable method to cure many types of madness, and possibly a number of physical illnesses as well. She couldn’t wait to hear his thoughts on her theory that taking patients into their pasts, in search of inciting causes of insanity, was highly beneficial.
They hadn’t yet reached the subject of specific cases when Feodor pulled out his watch and made a sound of surprise. “How quickly the hours have flown. I see it’s time for dinner. I’ve arranged a private meal for us here. It will allow us to continue our talk.”
“That sounds excellent.” When he turned away to summon a waiter, she touched her cheek, wondering if it looked as warm as it felt. Her mouth was dry from the long conversation.
“A little wine before dinner?” Feodor asked. A waiter had already cleared and set the table, and was presenting a bottle of wine in a silver cooler.
“Please,” Johanna said. The waiter poured, and Feodor tasted his wine with a connoisseur’s deliberation.
“It will do.” He signaled the waiter to pour for Johanna. In spite of her desire to be cautious, thirst made her take a much larger sip of the wine than was prudent.
“Bring water, as well,” Feodor ordered the waiter, who hurried off. He leaned back in his chair and watched Johanna. She set down her glass, still strangely flustered at being the focus of his attention.
“I hope,” she said, “that after our meal I may have an opportunity to consult with you about a particular patient. The situation is rather delicate—”
“You may, of course, rely on my complete discretion. I will be most interested to hear the details.” He sipped his wine. “You said that you have four patients, I believe?”
“Five, now—I have a new case as of two weeks ago. And one of the original four is really not a patient in the strictest sense of the word. He, like the others, had few choices about where to go.”
“But you and your father took all of them in.”
“We have benefited as much as they have.”
Feodor leaned toward her. “You are too modest, Johanna. These people are not merely medical subjects to you.”
She couldn’t argue with him in that. She wondered how well she would do in any argument with such a man.
And yet she wasn’t disturbed at the idea of having met her equal, a male doctor who neither condescended to her nor betrayed resentment at her accomplishments.
He captured her gaze, drawing her out as surely as the summer sun brought the Valley’s grapes to ripeness. “Who is your most intriguing patient, Johanna?”
“Quentin Forster,” she answered, without thinking. She’d meant to discuss her cases in general terms before revealing names, and then only if she felt comfortable in doing so.
“Is he your newest one?” he asked.
Now that the subject was broached, her feelings were decidedly mixed. She was inclined to trust Bolkonsky, and he definitely had the necessary skills and approach to treat someone like Quentin. But to speak candidly about Quentin was going to be more difficult than she had imagined.
“Yes,” she said. “A case of dipsomania, complicated by… delusions of lycanthropy.”
“Fascinating.” Feodor stroked his lower lip. “Was he brought to you by family members?”
“No. He found us.”
“And have you had success in treating his condition?”
“I am… presently considering my options.”
“Tell me about him,” Bolkonsky said. “Perhaps you can benefit by a second opinion.”
She took another quick sip of wine. “I was not being accurate when I said that Quentin was my most intriguing patient. Irene DuBois is also a considerable challenge—”
“Irene DuBois? The actress? I saw her once on Broadway. Very… interesting.”
Surprised, Johanna glanced at his face and caught a faint shift in expression, as if he’d blurted out something he hadn’t intended to say.
“My apologies for interrupting,” he said, recovering smoothly. “You were speaking of Quentin Forster—?”