Miss Rayne Stevens wiped her sweaty palms on her coat and handed the man behind the desk her paperwork.
Her heart thudded while he looked over the documents and glanced behind her. “Where is Mr. Stevens?”
Rayne cleared her throat. “I am Miss Stevens.”
“Yes. Well, I still need to know where Mr. Stevens is.”
“There is no Mr. Stevens. I am the person on that paperwork,” she pointed to the papers in his hands, “and I am Miss Stevens. Miss Rayne Stevens.”
The man leaned back. “That is not possible. We do not accept female applicants for our school.”
Rayne drew herself up. “I have studied your application papers thoroughly. I also had a solicitor look them over. Nowhere does it state a female cannot request admission.”
When Rayne had applied to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital Medical College, she counted on her name being nebulous enough that they would not realize she was a woman.
“Females may apply all they want, but they are not accepted. Medical training is much too harsh for a woman’s sensibilities.”
She refrained from rolling her eyes because that would probably make things worse. Instead, taking a deep, calming breath, she continued. “According to your application, to be eligible for medical school, a candidate should have received the preliminary education of a well-educated person, know a good deal about everything, have a better knowledge of science, and should have done well at school, regardless of the studies.”
The man looked down at the application and smirked. “One thing you have forgotten, Miss Stevens, is that the points you mentioned refer to a ‘gentleman.’” He held up the application. “I quote—He should have received the preliminary education of 'a well-educated gentleman.’”
Her anxiety had turned into anger. She knew it was going to be difficult when she showed up with her acceptance letter, but this man was being rude and condescending. Something she dealt with all her life. “That is irrelevant. I have my university record here.” She fumbled in the satchel at her feet. Once she pulled it out, she handed it over. “You will see I excelled in all subjects at university and took extra classes in science.”
There were several men behind her waiting to hand in their applications, and from the sounds drifting her way, they were not happy to be standing so long in line while she took up time with the annoying man.
He handed back her application, letter of acceptance, and university record. “I have many other students to deal with, Miss Stevens. I suggest you take a seat over there,” he waved in the direction of several chairs lining the wall of the room, “and I will send for someone to explain this all to you.”
Nailing the brand-new brass plate to the front door of her father’s infirmary, Rayne smiled, thinking back to her initial contact with St. Bartholomew’s.
Her father had recently been ordered by his doctor to give up his practice, and now Rayne was the only Dr. Stevens on the nameplate. Although she’d worked side-by-side with her father since she’d finished her medical training three years before, all the decisions regarding their medical practice had been his.
Now she would run things the way she wanted and devote more time to those who could not afford to pay a doctor but desperately needed medical care. Although Father was a compassionate man, he believed those who did not pay for something found no value in it. One of the many things they disagreed on, but she never spoke about it since pleasing her father had been her life’s work.
She loved her father and respected his work as a doctor, but his disappointment that she had not been a boy had shaped who she was. If Father could not have a male child—she had two older sisters—then she would do for him what a son would have done. Follow in his footsteps.
She rubbed the nameplate with the cuff of her dress, stepped back, and grinned. It had taken a lot of hard work, late nights, and some tears, but she had arrived.
She was Dr. Rayne Stevens of Bath, England.