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"Well, it's all you this time Lexie-girl." She sighed. The basic layout of the clinic was perfect. Trying to figure out living quarters, storage, and a set up to produce her own medicines was already a pain in her ass. She felt like she had already spent a small fortune on turning this into a productive outfit.

Having tried different methods of waking herself from this crazy dream, it seemed to be that she was stuck here no matter what until her body woke up. Perhaps she would learn a thing or two. Or maybe when she woke up she would get to tell her mother that reading the classics at a young age indeed paid off.

She had glassware by the dozens brought to the small clinic. It would be used for experimenting with medicines she knew how to make and trying those she didn't. The draper's shop was Alexandria's least favorite of all that she was doing. The seamstresses didn't have any idea how to outfit Alex. The popular colors looked awful on her fair skin with her dark hair. Then there was the corsets. Who the hell thought of these stupid things? But finally, she had enough clothing and undergarments ordered to last for a long while.

All in all, it only took 36 hours to have everything set up as best she could. That included her own needs as woman in Victorian England.

Apparently, when the long time town doctor passed away, the building and its contents were to be kept for the next physician as per Dr. Donaldson's will. John Thornton had been the one to find replacements, when necessary. It certainly made things easier. There was a small flat within the building that was for the physician to use. The ten bed ward was remarkably well done so were the four private rooms.

Yet, Alex was almost bored now that everything was fixed up or at least ordered, she did splurge and buy herself a treat. While pianos were a popular item to have in the homes, it was too large of an instrument to house in the clinic. Plus, she didn't play that well. However, Alexandria Copeland was an accomplished cello player. She had found one that she liked and used it to idle away a few hours every day.

With her running around town as she was, she happened to spot John Thornton on more than a few occasions. Alex knew that he saw her as their gazes met on a couple of occasions. Thornton turned away quickly each time with his customary scowl.

The man either needs to get laid or loosen his cravat she thought. Alex was fairly certain that he needed both.

Nobody had braved the opening of the clinic yet, even though it was written up in the local newspaper. She figured it would take time. Alexandria knew that she was the first female doctor that Milton had ever seen. If she remembered correctly, there wouldn't be an English female doctor until 1865. That was still a couple of years away. The United States produced its first female doctor in 1849, so with that bit of detail, she was able to pull off being a doctor.

It mattered not that the real Alexandria Copeland had graduated from Oxford a decade ago at the age of 18. She was a qualified trauma surgeon and reconstructive surgeon. Which did not translate perfectly to Victorian era England.

Alexandria was working out a way to make diethyl ether. It wasn't incredibly difficult of a product to make but she knew that it was extremely flammable. Could the components be mixed together only in a case of emergency? She didn't know, but she would find out. The thought of preforming surgery in these conditions made her stomach clench, but she wanted to be prepared.

The last whistle for the factories just blew. There would be a flurry of people trying to get away from their places of employment for a few hours before they had to be back prior to the sun being up.

The knock on the door was a surprise to her, to say the least. Upon opening the door, a burly man in his mid-forties stood before her.

"May I help you?" She smiled.

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