Chapter 18 #2
After breakfast, during which Mark kept Ellen’s hand in his, they went outside for the waiting cab.
Mark had recently arranged a hansom cab every morning for Ellen so she didn’t have to walk in the cold air and flag one down.
She’d said it felt utterly decadent, and he grinned in pleasure of giving her a good gift.
He’d debated on whether to purchase his own carriage and horses, but the expense of reserving a cab every day still was cheaper than the upkeep required for carriage, horses, and coachman.
Besides, the Gayes were living in the mews above the small coach house.
Ellen still looked pale and fragile in the winter light, and Mark kept an arm around her as they alighted from the cab and onto New Oxford Street. It was more physical contact than Society etiquette would allow, but on the street they were anonymous.
People walked to and fro, popping in shops and shivering in the chilly air. As Mark and Ellen turned down a side street, a furtive movement in the shadows caught his attention. Frowning, Mark turned his head to peer deeper into the gloom.
The butt of a cigarette glowed orange in the shadow of a narrow alleyway. It was nothing unusual, but the hair on the back of Mark’s neck prickled. As he stared, a man stepped out of the darkness. He was big and burly, and the man’s shoes, just peeking into the daylight, were rough and scuffed.
Seamus O’Malley emerged, with a gruff beard and two black eyes, probably from brawling.
He stared at the Glenfalls, making Mark’s skin tingle with the possibility of danger.
He’d learned long ago in the Navy never to ignore the prickles of concern.
O’Malley grinned and doffed his cap to bow low.
A mocking gesture, meant to remind them they were slumming, they didn’t belong, and he would be watching.
Mark tightened his grip around Ellen’s waist and hurried on. Ellen glanced up at him with a question in her eyes, noticing his movement. Mark merely smiled at her. He wouldn’t tell her, not now. She had too much to worry about, and he wasn’t going to add to it.
Ellen stepped away from Mark to pass through the doorway.
The unusually cold weather was keeping patients away.
The waiting area was empty, save for Mrs. Daugherty writing notes in a ledger and an exhausted mother with three young children waiting to be seen.
Amelia, presumably, was in the examining room with a patient.
At the sound of the bell, Mrs. Daugherty looked up.
She smiled, not just at Ellen, but also Mark.
Which Ellen found interesting. Perhaps the older woman was warming up to him.
Ellen hoped so because Mrs. Daugherty’s opinions about people were never wrong.
And if she liked Mark, then Ellen wasn’t such a fool for trusting him with her heart again.
“Mrs. Daugherty, do you think we could speak with you?” Ellen walked to the edge of the counter, trailing her fingers on the countertop worn smooth over the years.
She adjusted her spectacles, looking between the pair. “Is this a professional conversation we need to have?”
Ellen winced. “Do you mind?”
Mrs. Daugherty sighed and removed her spectacles, rubbing them with the edge of her apron. “For you, no.” She asked Mark to go turn the lock on the door, which he did. And then, after grabbing a black leather bag near her feet, Mrs. Daugherty led them upstairs to Amelia’s flat.
It was messy, as Amelia undoubtedly hadn’t planned for her room to be used for a midwife exam, and Ellen silently promised to tidy up for her as a thank you. Mark waited outside the room, on the landing, as Mrs. Daugherty sat on a stool and gestured for Ellen to take the bed.
“What seems to be the problem?”
Ellen glanced at Mark, who hovered in the doorway. He was clearly not sure about propriety but also desperate to be near her. “It’s alright,” she told him. “We’ll call you in once the exam is done.”
He nodded silently, shutting the door.
Mrs. Daugherty’s eyebrows shot a mile high as she looked between the shut door and Ellen. “And what am I supposed to examine?”
Ellen was too anxious to be embarrassed. “I think I’m pregnant. About a month. In fact, I know the date exactly.”
“I don’t usually examine women this early,” Mrs. Daugherty said, rolling up her sleeves.
Ellen bit her lip. “But you will? You can tell?”
“Yes, usually there’s color variation.” She unsnapped the bag and withdrew a speculum and mirror. “Open the curtain, please. We need as much light as we can get.”
Ellen got up and pushed open the gingham yellow curtain, then undressed as needed.
She made sure to lie on the bed in a spot of sunlight so Mrs. Daugherty could easily reflect the light to where she needed to see.
Nerves fluttered in her belly as Mrs. Daugherty scooted her stool forward.
It was awkward and embarrassing to have a colleague see her in such a clinical and vulnerable state.
I pay her wages, Ellen thought as her cheeks flushed.
We mop the dispensary floor together every Saturday.
At the same time, as much as this experience made her want to squirm in shame, she also couldn’t imagine anyone else she would’ve gone to.
When Mrs. Daugherty was done, she let Ellen stand and dress while she went and invited Mark inside.
“Well?” Mark looked more excited than fearful, which bothered Ellen, but she tried to put it aside.
“Likely pregnant,” the retired midwife agreed. “It’s early days, but yes, Ellen is correct.” She eyed Ellen. “I gather this was not planned.”
“No.” Ellen’s stomach roiled inside her, a morass of anxiety and angst.
“Since this is early days, we don’t need to find a granny knitting circle to take care of this. You’d be arrested and jailed for life if the police caught you with them anyway.”
“Isn’t this whole conversation illegal?” Ellen muttered under her breath.
“There are safe options,” Mrs. Daugherty continued. “I know which of those ‘menstrual blockage pills’ are effective without killing you in the process. Avoid Dr. Lynch’s hygiene pills, they’ve got arsenic in them. Miller’s Menstrual Magic—”
Ellen cut her off. “We’re going through with it. Since we’re here already.”
Mark nodded, stepping close to where Ellen sat on the bed, and placed his hand on her shoulder.
Mrs. Daugherty smiled. “Very well then. Everything looks healthy. Are you feeling morning sickness yet?”
Ellen shook her head.
“If you get it, it shall probably come on in the next fortnight.” Mrs. Daugherty rattled off a list of facts for Ellen. “We’ll know for certain when the babe quickens, but I’d say it’s safe to assume you’re in the family way.”
Mark cleared his throat. “I think we’re both quite worried about last time.”
Ellen nodded.
“Of course.” Mrs. Daugherty looked at Ellen with such kindness it made her want to cry.
“I don’t know why your baby was stillborn or what the itching had to do with it, though I think you’re right, they are related in some way.
There is cause to hope. You may not itch again.
And even if you do, we’ll induce labor early and pull the baby out.
” She smiled at them. “There is every reason to hope.”
Ellen shook her head. “I’m too afraid to hope. I cannot bear it if my hopes are crushed.”
Mrs. Daugherty took Ellen’s hand in hers, covering Ellen’s pale skin with her dark brown.
“My dear, I understand. Let me help you with this: you are still relatively young, you are healthy. You had an easy pregnancy up until the end, and you’ve not had a miscarriage before.
These are all good signs. We will be with you every step of the way, my dear.
And we can find a midwife for you to speak with as your condition progresses.
” She stroked Ellen’s hand. “I promise, we’ll do everything we can. ”
Ellen’s eyes filled with tears, and she shut them to keep the tears from escaping. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“In the meantime, I say keep your schedule as you can, but rest well. The first few months are exhausting.” Mrs. Daugherty smiled. “I remember, particularly with my third, I was so tired I would cry at the end of the day.”
Ellen felt Mark’s alarm through the hand on her shoulder. “Is that normal?”
“Yes. Make sure she rests, but otherwise she can keep her routine. If anything changes, we’ll find ways to cut back.” Mrs. Daugherty winked at Ellen. “There’s this pretty nurse who keeps finding her way around the dispensary, and I’ve a mind to put her to work.”
Ellen smiled. “Maybe Amelia will get that nurse she’s always talking about. For the dispensary.”
Mark bent down to kiss her temple. “I’ll be back at four. Don’t go anywhere alone.”
Ellen frowned. “I travel to people’s homes all day long, walking by myself.” She didn’t add that this month she was adding a brothel to her list, as two prostitutes had recently given birth early and needed her help.
“Stay in crowded areas.” Mark paused to thank Mrs. Daugherty, then saw himself out.
Mrs. Daugherty looked at Ellen.
Ellen pretended to be fascinated by a fraying hem of her cuff.
“You have that man wrapped around your little finger, and you don’t even know it.” Her tone was wry.
Ellen blushed and shook her head. “You know our history. I don’t know if I can love and trust him.”
Mrs. Daugherty pointed at Ellen’s stomach. “You clearly loved and trusted him enough for this to happen.”
Ellen groaned. “Yes, but it’s complicated. I was madly in love with him years ago, and he left. What’s to keep him from doing it again, when he tires of me this time?”
“That’s a good question. Has he answered it?”
“Yes, but I’m not certain I’m satisfied with the answer. I want to trust him fully. I just don’t know how.” Ellen shook her head. “Listen to me, going on and on like a ninny. I have babies to see.” She stood to make Amelia’s bed for her.
“Whatever happens, you shall not be alone,” Mrs. Daugherty promised, and Ellen knew she meant it for more than the pregnancy.