Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Mrs. Martin arrived shortly after Charlie drifted to sleep from the medicine the doctor had given him. A sick feeling still clenched at the back of Ginger’s throat. She unclasped her hand from Charlie’s, noticing the blood sticking her fingers to his.
Her parents were behind Mrs. Martin, still dressed for dinner.
Ginger rose to her feet, with a mixture of relief and apprehension at their arrival. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said as Mrs. Martin rushed to Charlie’s side.
Charlie opened his eyes drowsily, his face no longer bunched with pain. “Mum,” he whispered, reaching for her.
Mrs. Martin tearfully took his hand, then drooped beside him as she saw his injury.
Her father caught her arm and helped her to the chair. “Where’s the doctor?” he asked Ginger.
“He’s tending to a woman in labor but promised to return shortly.” Ginger smoothed her hands over her skirt. The examination room felt full now with them all crowded inside it. Henry was noticeably absent. “Where’s Henry?”
“We dropped him by the police to speak to the authorities about the events of this evening. He’ll be along shortly,” her father said.
He had yet to meet Ginger’s gaze, which spoke volumes.
More than likely, Henry had told her father about Ginger’s part in all this.
He would be as furious with her as Henry had been.
Ginger approached her mother. “Can we speak in the vestibule, Mama?”
They exited the room, leaving her father with Mrs. Martin.
Ginger led her mother away from the doorway.
She winced at the pain in her ankle, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands.
Telling her mother about her ankle would only worry her parents more.
“Were the Martins able to settle into the house? Who’s with the children? ”
“We left them in the old nursery with some servants. They’re frightened, but fine. For now.” Her mother wore a serious expression.
“What do you mean, ‘for now?’”
Her mother took her by the elbow. Her pupils were wide in the dim light, making her appear more stern.
“Ginger, you never should have left Penmore tonight without telling us what had happened.” She held out a hand to cut off any defense Ginger may interrupt with.
“Don’t worry, I’m just as upset with Henry.
Your father and I know how deeply you feel about the plight of the Martins, and we, too, sympathize with them. ”
The door to the hospital opened and Dr. Morgan came inside. He nodded a greeting to them and then hurried into the examination room. Ginger didn’t want to hear what she was certain would follow. “But what?”
Her mother covered Ginger’s free hand with hers. “But we must be careful. Very careful. It’ll do the whole family—not to mention your father’s position with the government—a great deal of harm if we’re seen as being pro-German.”
Ginger tried to maintain her composure, exhausted from this struggle. “I hardly think housing an innocent woman and her children is a pro-German stance.”
“Unfortunately, there are many who won’t see things quite the same way as you do.”
The words of the man who had attacked Henry came back to her. “You might be a spy, too, Whitman. Ye’re willin’ to betray England to the bloody Huns.”
Boring her gaze into her mother’s, Ginger narrowed her eyes. “Are you one of those who doesn’t see things my way?”
“No, of course not.” A line appeared between her mother’s eyebrows, and she pursed her lips.
She reached over and cupped Ginger’s chin in her hand, her fingertips cool against Ginger’s flushed skin.
“But you’re young, darling. You don’t understand how cruel this world can be.
Our circles would quickly ban your father if they felt his loyalties were in question. ”
Surely her mother had to be exaggerating.
Besides being a member of the peerage, her father had spent his life in service to the Crown.
“So we’re to do nothing? We can’t very well cast Mrs. Martin and her children out, Mother.
She has nowhere to go. And the village is dangerous for her. This evening more than proved that.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” She sighed, looking back at the closed examination room door with agitation.
“Your father and I will discuss it further. Don’t worry, we won’t be throwing them onto the street.
We must find a solution that also doesn’t cause our family harm.
We may try putting them up somewhere. Perhaps in another town where no one knows them. ”
A woman’s cry came from the examination room. Exchanging a glance, Ginger and her mother rushed to the door. Mrs. Martin stood by her son, a handkerchief in her hands. Her father continued to hold onto her arm as though the woman might suddenly be unwell again.
“Y-you can’t t-take his leg,” Mrs. Martin said, her words choked by tears. She shook her head, her face a deep red.
Her father shifted with discomfort beside the crying woman. Ginger relieved him of the position. “Mrs. Martin, what’s happened?”
“I’ve informed Mrs. Martin the boy’s injuries are too severe. His leg will have to be amputated,” Dr. Morgan said without a trace of gentleness. “He’ll be fine. He’ll live. And that’s all that matters, really.”
Ginger’s lips parted in horror. The thought of poor Charlie being left a cripple by this was more than she could bear. “Isn’t there some other option to reset his leg?”
Dr. Morgan released another sigh, then checked his pocket watch.
“The extent of the injury would require the skills of a masterful surgeon. While I can do some surgeries here, I’m not equipped to handle something of this nature.
Not to mention, you’re speaking of options for the rich, Lady Virginia. ”
Mrs. Martin gripped Ginger’s hand so tightly it hurt. “But…my boy. My poor boy. We rely on his help. And he’s such a fast runner. Lives for it. He would climb and skip all day if he could. Please. Please help him. Don’t cut off his leg.”
Her father watched Mrs. Martin with a thoughtful expression. Displays of emotion made him uncomfortable, but he had a good heart. Perhaps, if there was hope, Ginger could convince him to step in on the boy’s behalf. “Do you know someone who could do the surgery?” Ginger asked Dr. Morgan.
“Not here.” Dr. Morgan scratched the top of his head. “Not anywhere near here, either. I have a friend in London but—”
“We’ll take him to London, then. If that’s all right with you, Papa? I’m certain Mrs. Martin and I could take him.” Ginger drew herself to her full height. She’d never live with herself if she didn’t do everything in her power to save Charlie’s leg.
“The trip for him will be excruciating. Not to mention he could die.” Dr. Morgan held out a hand as though to put an end to her pleas.
“And I can’t guarantee they’ll save his leg.
” He gave Mrs. Martin a severe look. “There’s nothing wrong with being a cripple.
Better a cripple than dead. Be reasonable for God’s sake. ”
Ginger bristled at his condescension. “But the options aren’t just dead or crippled, are they, Dr. Morgan? The right surgeon might save the leg.”
“Yes, but—those are not the options for children like Charlie Martin,” Dr. Morgan said, his face a mask of indifference.
Options for the rich. Insufferable man. Wasn’t he supposed to do everything in his power to help and to heal?
“And if my family will help with the transport and cost?” Ginger avoided her parents’ gazes. She should defer to them, as it was their motorcar and money she was offering, but she didn’t want to look weak in front of Dr. Morgan.
Mrs. Martin appeared anguished by the situation. She appealed to Ginger’s mother, who had been silent by the doorway. “What would you do, my lady?”
Her mother paled. She gave Mrs. Martin a kind smile. “I understand wanting to give one’s child the best of options. Edmund, what do you think? Can we help take poor Charlie to London?”
Her father rubbed his jaw slowly. “If that’s the desire of the mother, I’m happy to help.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, my lord. My whole family owes you so much.” Mrs. Martin drew a shattered breath as she reached for Charlie’s limp hand.
“This is ludicrous. Injuries of this nature result in amputation regularly.” Dr. Morgan set his hands on his hips.
“If you go, I wash my hands entirely of this. It makes no difference to me. I have enough patients to tend to for the evening, but I won’t have others saying I put you up to this madness. I have my—”
Her father cut him off with a severe frown. “What’s the name of the fellow in London, Morgan?”
“Dr. James Clark. At St. Thomas’ Hospital.
We trained together,” Dr. Morgan said with a resigned look.
He appeared to realize he had crossed too far of a line by challenging the Earl of Braddock.
“I suppose I can put the boy’s leg in a splint to keep his movement minimal while you move him.
But you’ll have to go tonight. Immediately. ”
Thank God.
Ginger had never felt such hopefulness and apprehension all at once.
Now she needed to convince her father to let her go with Charlie and Mrs. Martin to London. She’d made this catastrophe. She was determined to fix it.
“Why don’t we speak of the arrangements in the hall while Dr. Morgan takes care of the splint? Mrs. Martin, you’ll be all right, won’t you?” her mother said.
With the way Dr. Morgan was behaving, Ginger worried more about leaving the beleaguered woman with him than anything else.
Mrs. Martin nodded mutely and they left her in the examination room.
A jittery feeling ran up Ginger’s arms and she tried to keep her limp to a minimum. One step at a time. She breathed, clenching her jaw as she walked. What on earth had she done to her ankle?