And this was the end of her hopes about finding Quentin a good, fully impartial doctor to continue his treatment. Transferring him to Bolkonsky was now out of the question.
“Tomorrow is too soon,” she said. “I must insist—”
“I’m sorry, Johanna. You’ll see the wisdom of this, I feel sure. I fear that if we do not do as he asks, Mr. Ingram may involve the law… and neither one of us wishes that.”
Johanna recognized a threat when she heard one. “There is one thing I will not allow, and that is May being hurt. If at any time I feel that she is harmed by this, I will stop it.”
Bolkonsky withdrew a step. “You do realize that her father has complete authority over his own child.”
“I meant what I said.”
“You could not do otherwise.” He tossed back his golden hair in an arrogant gesture. “I continue to admire your professional devotion.”
This Feodor Bolkonsky was fully capable of mockery. “May and I will meet with you, as you requested,” she said, “but I shall expect to see Mr. Ingram privately for an examination of my own. Then I shall determine if and when she is fit to meet her father.”
“Agreed. Shall I expect you and Miss Ingram here tomorrow at one o’clock?”
May’s voluntary appearance was a preferable alternative to her seizure from the Haven by force. “We’ll be here.”
“Then I shall bid you adieu, so that you will have the time you need with Miss Ingram. I am sorry that our other business has been delayed, but I hope we shall have future opportunities to discuss your other patients.” He tipped his hat, clicked his heels, and strode from the room.
He was annoyed, the polished Dr. Bolkonksy, that she had dared to argue with him. But he expected to prevail. Why should he not, in dealing with a woman?
He did not know her. And she was well aware that her most dangerous opponent was May’s father, not this foppish physician who so excelled in manipulation and deception.
Daisy seemed to sense Johanna’s worry as they drove back to the Haven. Half-formed plans were already hatching in Johanna’s mind, ranging from the deliberate to the desperate. Finding solid proof of Ingram’s alleged improprieties with his daughter and facing the influential businessman in a court of law was certainly one of the more desperate, if it came to that.
But deliberation won. The best scheme was to delay Bolkonsky and Ingram until firm arrangements could be made—arrangements for May’s safety. Let Bolkonsky and Ingram believe she was cooperating. Resistance too soon would arouse their suspicions.
If there was even a grain of truth in Bolkonsky’s claims of Mrs. Ingram’s madness, Johanna much preferred to err on the side of caution. May could always be returned—if, against all Johanna’s instincts, Ingram proved to be worthy of his daughter.
May was almost old enough to live on her own, but her mind was still that of a frightened girl. She was not ready for the world. She would do best residing with someone she could learn to trust, if she had to leave the Haven. Someone who could hide her as long as necessary.
May’s precarious situation would consume all Johanna’s time and effort from now until this matter of Mr. Ingram was satisfactorily resolved. The other patients would have to wait. And Quentin…
She had no choice but to put his treatment aside until she found another suitable doctor. That might take weeks, or months—every day a test of her will. She could only hope that his condition didn’t worsen.
She unharnessed Daisy, gave her a measure of grain, and started toward the house. May was not in the garden or, as far as she could see, in the orchard or vineyard. In the full heat of the day, the patients were apt to be resting in their rooms.
Like a coward, she hoped Quentin remained in his. She wasn’t to be so lucky. Quentin and May were together in the parlor, the girl reading to him in her light, hesitant voice. Mrs. Daugherty knitted on the sofa. All three looked up as Johanna entered.