and as such, a threat to the old guard, as the systematic defamation of your character has demonstrated.’
‘Yet no one, not a single one of my former patients, has spoken out in my defence.’
‘They too must accept the rules of society, the world they inhabit. Has it occurred to you, Miss Galbraith, that your refusal to practise once that tragic event became public confirmed your guilt?’
‘It certainly confirmed what I should never have lost sight of,’ Allison said bitterly. ‘I am an outsider. Despite all my efforts to conform to their standards, they had no hesitation in stabbing me in the back. I am not, and never will be one of them. They would have found another excuse to point the finger at me sooner or later.’
‘So you have chosen to surrender, to grant them their victory?’
Under The Procurer’s steady gaze, Allison bit back her instinctive denial, and contented herself with a shrug.
‘Guilty, innocent or plain negligent, you have spent the last six months in hiding, sitting on your hands,’ The Procurer continued. ‘It is not Anthony Merchmont who is preventing you treating patients, is it, Miss Galbraith? Do you not miss your vocation?’
‘More than I could ever have imagined,’ Allison replied instantly. ‘It means everything to me, to heal pain, to help...’ She stopped short, fighting for control. ‘Do you know the worst thing, madam? They destroyed more than my reputation, they destroyed my confidence.’
‘Doubting yourself is a perfectly natural consequence of what you have been through, but I speak from experience when I counsel you to overcome that fear, lest it destroy you.’ A shadow clouded The Procurer’s eyes, though it was quickly banished. ‘If I were to provide you with an opportunity to utilise your specialist knowledge and experience, would you grasp it?’
‘It is not possible,’ Allison said automatically, though she was already wondering if it was, for The Procurer’s calm, matter-of-fact logic had roused her crushed spirit to push aside its suffocating blanket of bitterness and regret.
‘My reputation, Miss Galbraith, has been forged by making the impossible possible. Whether you give me the opportunity to prove that to be well founded is entirely dependent on you.’
‘But I can’t. You said it yourself, I am a social pariah. No one in London...’
‘The position I require to be filled is not based in London.’
‘Oh.’ Oddly, it had not occurred to her to consider a change of location from the city in which she had worked so hard to establish herself. But it made sense, if she was considering emerging from her hibernation. And that was an apt word. She felt as if she had been sleeping, or living through a nightmare. Was it over? ‘Where, then?’ Allison asked.
The woman smiled very faintly in acknowledgement of this progress. ‘All in good time. You must understand, this is no ordinary contract of employment that I offer you.’
Extraordinary. Allison’s grandmother had always told her that was what she should aspire to be. Ordinary, Seanmhair always said, was for life’s passengers. Would her grandmother expect her to grasp at this straw? The answer was a resounding yes, but did she possess the courage to do so? The answer to that was suddenly both clear and unambiguous.
‘I flatter myself,’ Allison said, ‘that I have demonstrated myself capable of the extraordinary. As you pointed out, I have succeeded against the odds.’
‘I take it then, that you are willing to consider my proposal?’
It took Allison a few moments to recognise the fluttering in her belly. Not fear, but anticipation. She had not dared allow herself to hope, but suddenly here was hope, and—oh, good heavens—she wanted it so much.
‘Well?’ The Procurer raised one perfectly arched brow.
‘Yes.’ The relief was almost overwhelming. ‘Yes,’ Allison repeated more firmly. ‘Just tell me what it is you require me to do.’
But for several long agonising moments The Procurer said nothing, studying her closely through heavy-lidded eyes, as if she were a specimen in a laboratory. Allison held the woman’s gaze, clasping her hands tightly in her lap to stop herself squirming. The woman’s smile was slow to dawn, but when it came, it would be no exaggeration, Allison thought, to liken it to the sun coming out.
‘A very wise decision on your part and on mine too, I believe. You will do very well for the vacancy I have been asked to fulfil. Now, to business,’ The Procurer said briskly. ‘Before I disclose the nature of your appointment, I must apprise you of a few non-negotiable ground rules. I will guarantee you complete anonymity. My client has no right to know your personal history other than that which is pertinent to the assignment or which you choose yourself to divulge. In return, you will give him your complete loyalty. We will discuss your terms shortly, but you must know that you will be paid only upon successful completion of your assignment. Half-measures will not be tolerated. If you leave before the task is completed, you will return to England without remuneration.’
‘Return to England?’ Allison repeated, somewhat dazed. ‘You require me to travel abroad?’
‘All in good time. Do you understand me, Miss Galbraith? This conversation, the details which I am about to unveil, are given in complete confidence. Unless I can guarantee my discretion to my clients—’
‘I understand you very well, madam,’ Allison interrupted. ‘Discretion is—was—intrinsic to my calling too.’
‘Another trait we have in common, then. Do I have your word?’
Allison startled the pair of them with a peal of laughter. ‘Madam, you have ignited the flame of hope I thought was quite extinguished. You have my word of honour, and you can have it signed in blood if you wish it. Now please, tell me, where is it I am to go, and who is this mysterious client of yours?’
St Petersburg—six weeks later
The voyage across the North Sea to the Baltic coast had been both speedy and surprisingly comfortable. Standing on the deck of the ship as they docked at the port on the delta of the Neva River, Allison wondered if The Procurer had, amongst other things, arranged for the winds to consistently blow in the most advantageous direction, and instructed the sun to welcome her arrival. It beamed down from the cobalt-blue sky, making the majestic buildings which fronted the river glitter as if studded with jewels.
Allison had been prepared, by several enthusiastic fellow travellers, for the grandeur of St Petersburg, but the city known as the Venice of the North by dint of having been constructed from thirty-three islands, was, in reality, infinitely more beautiful than she could have envisioned. She gazed around her, quite dazzled by grand frontages in pastel colours, huge pillars supporting imposing porticoes, golden domes soaring into the sky, and as the Neva River wended its way into the heart of the city, a vista of bridge after bridge spanning its banks.
A flotilla of small boats bobbed on the azure-blue waters. Stevedores called to each other in what she assumed was Russian, the words like no others she had ever heard, and Allison began to panic. The Procurer had assured her that French and English were the languages used by the aristocracy and their entourages with whom she would be mingling, but what
