Dr. Beecham couldn’t have been older than fifty, but Hazel understood his point. “Does that mean,” she began slowly, “that I might be able to continue in your class?”
Beecham cleared his throat and gestured for a server to bring a fresh pot of tea. “I’m afraid that if Dr. Straine is unwilling to let you attend his demonstrations, there’s nothing I can do to undermine him. I did, when he spoke to me the other day, attempt to convey to Dr. Straine the notion that an exceptional medical mind could in fact come in the female form, but alas. A stubborn old bat.”
“But surely,” Hazel said, “as the head of the course. As a fellow lecturer. Your grandfather founding the society, surely there’s something—”
“Miss Sinnett. Much as it pains me to say, it’s possible that Dr. Straine has a point. The anatomical demonstrations can be quite … gruesome. Skin flayed out and organs puffed up. Perhaps it’s best after all that your delicate female sensibility be protected.” He took a large sip of tea and sighed with satisfaction. “And the classes only get more challenging from this point on. Incredibly rigorous. And then there’s the Physician’s Examination. A grueling affair. Yes, perhaps it is best after all—”
A spark flared in Hazel’s brain, and she spoke before logic or reason could extinguish it. “What if I sit the Physician’s Examination? Even without the lectures. What if I’m allowed to sit the Physician’s Examination anyway?”
Dr. Beecham tilted his head and lifted his quill to his lips. “An experiment,” he said.
“Yes,” Hazel said quickly, “exactly. An experiment. To test my abilities. And if I pass, I receive my qualifications, and you permit women to enroll in your lecture from here on out. Yours and Straine’s.”
A fresh pot of tea was deposited on the table, and Beecham thanked the servant with a warm smile before turning back to Hazel. As he leaned forward to refill his teacup, Hazel thought she saw a glimpse of something glinting and gold, almost glowing, inside his breast pocket. But before she could get a better look, Beecham reclined. “I do warn you, if you intend to sit the Physician’s Examination, you’ll find it nearly impossible without the benefit of studying from subjects. I doubt anyone could pass without dissections. John Hunter himself would flounder.”
“I’ll manage. I can assure you: I will manage. And I will not be the last woman to attempt to enroll in your course, Dr. Beecham, I assure you of that as well. When I pass, the others will see it’s possible. And I will pass.”
Now Beecham looked positively merry. His eyes glistened with excitement. “I do love a game, Miss Sinnett.”
“So we have a deal, then,” Hazel said, extending her hand.
Beecham brought his hand toward her, but then lifted it away with a sharp flick. “The conditions: You will sit the Physician’s Examination at the end of this term. If you pass, I shall open the course to any women who wish to attend, although I warn you there may not be quite so many with your peculiar predilection as you seem to believe. And, in the unlikely event that you do pass, I will also offer you an apprenticeship—with me—at the university hospital, where as you must know, I serve as Chief of Surgery. A rare and highly sought-after apprenticeship.” He brought his hand down, ready to shake, but this time Hazel hesitated.
“And what if I do fail? What then? All wagers have stakes, do they not?”
Beecham chuckled, but not cruelly. “Very good, Miss Sinnett. I consider this more an experiment than a wager. I imagine the stakes of your failure would be self-evident. For one, I’d be unable to convince my colleague Dr. Straine to permit other females to attend lectures in the future. Let’s say that if you do not pass the Physician’s Examination, you’ll be unable to sit it in the future. This larger experiment, of a female surgeon, will be considered concluded.”
Hazel nodded, and they shook.
Beecham’s hand was cold, she could feel the ice of it even through his glove. “Well, then,” Beecham said. “I look forward to seeing you at the examination. Ah, one final thing!” He raised a finger while he shuffled through the pile of books at his elbow. “Aha. There we are. A newer edition of Dr. Beecham’s Treatise. For you to study from. I happened to notice that the one you brought to class was a little out of date. And a tad worse for the wear, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Hazel took the book. The light from the fire reflected off the shiny gilded letters on its cover: