Chapter 19
A rare occurrence to have the entire household at the breakfast table—or any meal, for that matter—but no one had been called urgently away this morning.
Horace, eyebrows twisted in worried contemplation, reached for another sugar cube and dropped it into his tea with measured care.
“Conway said he’s seen eight cases, but all in the same household. It doesn’t seem to have traveled.”
Forks stilled as everyone listened with concentration too profound for movement.
Horace continued, “He found it where you’d expect—down at the docks.
Probably came in with a ship.” Horace looked out the window to the steel sky, trees glazed with morning dew.
“If we must see cholera this year, it’s as tame as you’d want, and still—”
“Any deaths?” Harry prodded.
Horace pressed his lips together as if tempted to keep the truth to himself. “Five of the eight.”
“Good Lord,” Daniel whispered.
“The weather’s been terrible,” Horace pointed out. “Floods all over the city through a sweltering summer, and now a cold start to autumn. I believe sickness in general will be amplified this year.”
Mrs. Phipps maintained a stiffer pose than the painting of Lord Nelson behind her. At last, she released her thin lips. “If it is cholera, will it be as bad as the year Nora took sick?”
Horace’s frown deepened. “I don’t see how it could be.” His mouth twitched and his eyes burned with thought. “’32 was…” He shook his head. “We’re jumping ahead.”
Mrs. Phipps exhaled, relief in her breath.
“My district work has me down in the docks,” Harry reminded them. “I’ll keep an eye out and report everything.”
Beside him, Julia’s pale, pinched face betrayed her worry.
Horace gave a satisfied nod. “That’s good. Everyone on alert. If you do see it, isolate the patient immediately and keep your distance.” He raised his spoon like a saber and jutted it at each of them. “I don’t want to expose our household.”
Julia shifted in her chair. “It’s bad enough thinking of Harry being surrounded by disease. To bring it here—”
“Horace brought me here,” Nora quietly reminded the room.
“You were one little girl,” Mrs. Phipps replied after an uncomfortable pause.
“And she barely allowed me in the front door with you, as I recall,” Horace huffed.
Mrs. Phipps’s face reddened. “It was a risk.”
“Hopefully, we’ll hear no more of it. But extreme caution, nonetheless.” Horace put down the spoon with finality.
Across the table, Julia brushed Harry’s hand with relief. Nora and Daniel still hadn’t melted back into easy warmth. Nora’s stomach dipped, and she pushed the food on her plate farther away from her.
Daniel lowered his lips close to her ear and asked in a gentle aside, “Aren’t you eating?”
“I’m not very hungry. I still have to prepare for my lesson with Ruth today,” she whispered while the others kept discussing. Three other midwives were now expressing interest. If Nora could develop a curriculum that satisfied men like Adams…
“Don’t forget to keep your strength up,” Daniel whispered.
Nora startled. It sounded too much like pregnancy advice. “Why do you say that?” She forced the words through numb lips.
Daniel frowned. “What do you mean, why? You stay so busy. You can’t forget to eat.” Confusion burned brown rings in his eyes.
Nora resisted the urge to squirm. “I’ll be hungrier at teatime.”
Mrs. Phipps cleared her throat. “If sickness is more pronounced this year, I propose Julia, Nora, and I take a holiday in Suffolk at my sister’s house.”
“But who would run the clinic?” Harry pointed out, his cup paused in the air. “Without Nora, we’d have to close it.”
“Then we close it,” Mrs. Phipps finished smoothly.
Nora dropped her fork with a clatter. “I have patients with nowhere else to go.”
Mrs. Phipps narrowed her eyes at Nora, a familiar precursor to a scolding. “And a sick doctor cannot treat anyone. You, particularly, should be cautious.”
Nora blanched. They were coming too close. Mrs. Phipps knew Nora hadn’t told Julia yet but assumed she’d told Daniel. Most likely because of Nora’s vague inferences that she had…
“Wait.” Harry held up his hand, his brow wrinkled. “Cholera aside, if you expect sickness will be worse this year, how do we handle the patients with one less doctor? It seems the worst time for Nora to go away.”
Julia nodded. “And even if there are a few cases of cholera, don’t you all believe she has immunity from her childhood infection?”
“Yes, but we don’t know if the baby would have the same immunity,” Horace said, doling cream into his tea.
Nora’s hands dropped to the tablecloth, carved of lead.
Daniel opened his mouth.
Harry’s leg hit the table as he uncrossed it too quickly, and Julia released a yelp of surprise. “Baby?”
“Nora?” Daniel’s face was white, unreadable.
“Horace!” Nora reprimanded, tears boiling viciously along her lower lashes.
Horace looked up, bewildered by the commotion. “What?”
“They hadn’t told them, you dolt!” Mrs. Phipps pursed her lips in such anger Nora feared she’d smack him with her teaspoon.
“Why not?” Horace asked.
Daniel repeated her name, and she caught the whisper despite the tumult of other voices. She turned to him, tears sliding. “I wasn’t sure yet,” she lied, wishing he would turn his shocked eyes anywhere else.
“You didn’t tell Daniel?” Mrs. Phipps asked, horrified.
“You knew?” Julia asked Mrs. Phipps, her voice leaking betrayal.
Nora didn’t even attempt speech. She couldn’t untangle the questions, and time had grown so heavy and fast that she could barely thread a breath through the tight seconds.
Horace shrugged. “It’s nature’s way, isn’t it? No need for all this fuss.”
Mrs. Phipps brought her fist down on the table, making the china bounce. “There is a way things are done, Dr. Croft.”
“So, you are?” Even Horace stopped moving at Daniel’s plaintive, restrained words. She’d never heard him sound so small.
“I think I might be.” She must soften the blow. “I was going to tell you as soon as I knew for certain. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.” Her cheeks burned from the lie.
Daniel’s frown relaxed, his eyes darting, gathering thoughts. “But that’s wonderful.” The words came out choked and strangled. “Even if Horace ruined your surprise.”
He pulled her to him, an embrace different from the ones they’d exchanged lately. He waited until she molded in to him before releasing her.
“I thought we’d hear the same news from you two by now,” Horace said, pointing his fork at Harry and Julia.
Julia jerked to her feet, her golden hair catching the bleak morning sun. “How happy for you,” she said without meeting Nora’s eyes. “Excuse me.” She dropped her napkin and slipped from the room.
Nora looked to Harry for an explanation, but his face wore a stone mask. He said nothing as he followed in his wife’s wake.
“Julia?” Nora asked, far too late.
Mrs. Phipps rose and aimed an angry sigh at Horace. “I’ll speak to her. Give us a moment.” The housekeeper was angry with Horace, but Nora could tell—she knew Mrs. Phipps far too well not to—that she was also disappointed by Nora’s evasions.
She couldn’t blame her. Daniel deserved better.
Within seconds, the once-busy table was half-empty, only Horace continuing with his toast.
Nora pressed her fingers to her sternum, the sting of Julia’s abrupt departure spreading through her. “I’m sorry, Daniel.”
“Sorry?” He smiled in earnest now, the way he did when he discovered some new animal or medical anomaly. “I’m ecstatic.” His hand hovered over her stomach, knowing there was nothing at all to see or feel. The magic of new life was entirely concealed within her.
Unruffled, Horace folded his paper in half and smoothed it on the table. “I agree with Mrs. Phipps, Nora. If we do see cholera cases, you should leave town.”
“If I do have immunity, I’m the only one who should see cholera patients,” she countered, livid he’d returned to his conversational tone after setting off an incendiary at the table.
She considered it a sound hypothesis. Few argued against the effectiveness of Edward Jenner’s smallpox vaccine, and Nora knew from her own practice that children who survived measles, diphtheria, and other ailments could expect to be spared those diseases in later years.
“Seems a foolhardy time to test any theory.” Daniel pointed to Nora’s stomach.
Nora stiffened at the set of Daniel’s jaw. He was formulating arguments already. Everything was unfolding just as she’d feared—everyone joining ranks, urging her to stop working.
“Fortunately, we don’t have to,” Nora said swiftly. “Two cases—or eight, however many Dr. Conway claims to have seen—are not an epidemic.”
Neither man could argue with that, but Nora wasn’t about to count it a victory. She had bigger problems than obscure cases and theories. Daniel’s excitement over her pregnancy proved he felt no qualms about becoming a parent. His life would change, but not as radically as he expected hers to.
Horace’s surprise disclosure had opened a new struggle for her, one only just beginning.