a clean towel, Mary wiped away the excess before turning a keen eye on the rest of the group. “Now, I want each of you to spend the next couple of minutes washing your hands—thoroughly. Take your time and remember to make good use of the soap. I want the lather to reach all the way up to your elbows.”
Lord Arlington stared at her as if she’d just turned green. “I hardly think that is necessary,” he said. “After all, you yourself have said that we are short on time. Should we not then try to get this over with as quickly as possible, or do you really mean to prolong my wife’s suffering while we stand about playing with water?”
“Lord Arlington,” Mary told him sternly, “I take very little pleasure in your wife’s suffering, and I assure you that I have no desire to prolong it more than necessary. However, since you do wish for me to explain myself to you, I will tell you this: while the majority of the physicians and surgeons in this country may be deaf to new ideas and innovative ways of thinking, I am not, and neither was my father.”
The viscount responded with nothing but a blank stare. Clearly, she would have to elaborate, however reluctant she was to waste what little time they had in doing so.
“Forty seven years ago,” she said, filling a washbasin with water and reaching for the soap, “a Scottish physician named William Buchan published a book that focused on personal hygiene. It was called Domestic Medicine, and although the original work was first sold in Edinburgh, it quickly grew in popularity and was reprinted in London only five years later.” She paused for a moment as she dipped the soap in the water and started working it between her hands until foamy bubbles began to appear. She then looked up to see if the name of the book she’d just mentioned had registered with anyone but was greeted by yet another round of vacant gazes. Only Helmsley bore a knowing smile upon his face, for he had heard her speak of Buchan many times before. Returning her gaze to her hands, she said, “In this book of his, Buchan advises everyone to wash their hands after handling the sick or anything else that might have become contaminated. He also advises that we do so before we eat our meals or enter into company with others. His reasoning for doing so was that he believed we would run less risk of becoming infected ourselves or of conveying an infection to others. Unfortunately, however, his advice has been greatly ignored within the medical community.”
Mary let out a lengthy sigh. “I don’t presume to understand why it is of such monumental importance, my lord, I only know that it is. My father and I have always done it before a surgery, and I do believe that it is part of the reason why the mortality rate of our patients has always been far lower than that of other surgeons.
“So, if your wife’s health is of any importance to you, then you will wash your hands without further complaint, and once you are done, you will refrain from touching anything else in this room unless I specifically give you permission to do so. Do I make myself clear?”
Lord Arlington stared back at her for only a fraction of a second before rushing over to the washbasin and grabbing the soap that she’d just now finished with. Mary caught Helmsley’s eye. There was a very distinct smirk upon his face as he gave her a quiet nod of approval. Good. She’d hate having to waste time arguing with him as well.
When Lord Arlington returned to his wife’s side a few minutes later, Mary looked at him and said, “I have taken the liberty of administering some laudanum. It should make it easier on her, but this is not going to be a painless procedure. I hope I can count on you to hold her down and keep her steady for me. Dr. Helmsley will help you while. . .” She turned to the maid. “I am terribly sorry, but I do not know your name.”
“It is Lucy Pinksworth, my lady.”
Mary acknowledged her with a quick