Chapter 33 #2
“That’s quite obvious,” Aunt snapped. “Your Mrs. Phipps just went to tell you I arrived.” Aunt stood but took a step backward. “You look positively green. Which I would fear was the cholera if I hadn’t just heard with my own ears—”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Horace interrupted in gruff syllables. “We’re treating cholera in our ward. None of the patients come into the living quarters of the house, but I’d never put you in danger.”
“Only my nephew,” she sniffed, her eyes shifting uncomfortably at the mention of sick patients. “And his wife and now his future child…” Her words trailed off in disbelief. “How could Daniel allow this?”
“She’s overtired and expecting. Nothing else. She’s as safe as any of us.” It didn’t help that Horace’s voice faltered. They all knew that comparison counted for very little.
Cold dread swept over Nora’s body like a poison. She wrenched free of Horace’s arm and threw up into the nearest fern.
Aunt stepped backward again, almost stumbling. “This looks like cholera,” she said in horror, pressing a handkerchief to her mouth.
Horace pressed his hand to Nora’s forehead as he helped her into the chair. “She’s fourteen weeks along and had no breakfast this morning. It’s to be expected. No fever whatsoever.”
“Fourteen weeks?” Aunt repeated the words as if they were a foreign language. Her quiet voice grew sinister. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve known for months? And hidden it?”
Nora shut her eyes and exhaled. Trust Horace to cause a scene. “No, not that long.” She shook her head carefully. No sudden movements yet.
“But you’re still working? And Daniel—”
Nora’s mouth flew open to defend herself, but she choked on her reply at the last second.
No need to make Aunt hate both of them. The lie formed as she spoke it.
“He didn’t know. I only just told him. He was going to travel home this weekend to announce it, but work has kept him away around the clock.
” She caught Horace’s raised eyebrow and his clear, silent warning not to continue down this track. Too late now.
“Deceiving your own husband?” Aunt’s cheeks trembled, and she looked at Nora as if she were a dangerous, unknown creature.
“You knew you were with child and didn’t tell him?
” The plume in her hat quivered as lines of outrage dug deeper around her mouth.
“I came to tell you how Miss Vaughn and Mr. Brandon were faring after the accident, but I see you are not worthy of the consideration.”
Nora fought the compulsion to fight back by inwardly reciting Aunt’s twitching facial muscles. Masseter. Risorius. Buccinator.
“I cannot countenance this. If Daniel will not make you see sense, someone must. You cannot risk his child, his name, and my family’s heir any longer. I’m ordering you stop work at once.”
“You cannot order me to do anything, Aunt Wilcox.”
Mrs. Phipps bustled into the room and froze, detecting the emergency in one glance at their stricken faces.
“But I can disinherit and disown your husband. So will his parents. You must give this up.”
“You would break Daniel’s heart?”
Mrs. Phipps’s hand went to her mouth, a nervous habit.
Aunt drew her velvet bag to her waist, as if fearing Nora would steal it.
“That’s your doing, girl, not mine. You’ve used us all badly and continue to do so with no compunction.
My nephew gives you latitude to do whatever you like, and you repay him in lies and deception.
He deserves better.” She straightened, transferring her glare in turn to Horace and Mrs. Phipps.
“I can’t pretend I don’t blame both of you as well. ”
As Aunt Wilcox swept past them, Mrs. Phipps mouthed something to her.
Nora couldn’t decipher the words. But she understood perfectly well that she had to do something.
Unfortunately, the older woman was marching away at a furious pace, and Nora stepped on her own skirts as she started forward, stumbling after her into the hall.
By the time she caught up, Aunt Wilcox was at the front door, spitting orders at the terrified hallboy.
“Aunt, I’m sorry. I wanted to be sure before telling anyone. To spare Daniel additional worry. There’s so much—”
Aunt Wilcox yanked her umbrella from the hall stand like a warrior drawing a sword. She wheeled on Nora, cheeks red with anger, spittle flying from her lips. “There’s only one thing you can say to me to show any remorse—that you are leaving town today and finding a safe place to convalesce.”
Nora folded her hands at her waist. “No. I can’t leave London. No doctor with any kind of conscience—”
“You’re a mother now, girl—or as good as one.
” She flung open the door, pausing at the threshold.
“I gave you a stage and a voice. I encouraged my friends to help you. And all the time you were hiding a pregnancy, risking my nephew’s child and my future heir.
A lady engaging in work for the good of society is one thing, but a woman working during confinement when there is no financial necessity is quite another. ”
She whisked her skirts outside, as if afraid Nora was contagious, and slammed the door behind her.
When the reverberations died, Nora clutched her waist. “I think I’m going to be sick again.”