Page 8 of The Lady's Last Mistake
Dorie had been with them for only a week, arriving with a head cold that had progressed into a fever.
“But I thought you said no doctor would see her,” Cassie replied as she and Elyse left her office. It was tucked into the back of the house, above the kitchen. The narrow landing outside her door had a low, angled ceiling that she often accidentally smacked her head against, but once clear of it, the hallway led to two guest rooms and a central sitting room.
“Most doctors won’t,” Elyse said as they made their way to Dorie’s room. She was from a family of Algerian immigrants, and when her father learned the man who’d gotten her with child was an Irish sailor who’d disappeared with the tide, he’d turned her out.
“However,” Elyse continued, “Mabel knows of a doctorknown to treat any person who needs it, regardless of their color—or their ability to pay.”
“Wewillpay him.”
Elyse nodded, entirely cognizant of their dwindling funds. Mabel, however, was not. She’d joined them six months ago, when there had been five women under their roof and Elyse had needed the help of another trained midwife. Cassie could do little more than assist and run the keeping of the house. Mabel D’Costa had been Elyse’s mother’s friend and had helped to train Elyse too.
“He’s in the East End?” Cassie asked.
Elyse frowned. “I’m not sure. Neither is Mabel. She says he runs a free clinic each weekend on Church Street in Whitechapel, and if you need him on other days, you must send word to an address on Shoreditch Road. The person there takes the information and passes it along to the doctor. We’ve already sent a messenger to begin the process.”
“How odd. He must live outside this part of town.”
They entered Dorie’s room and found Mabel holding a cloth to the young woman’s forehead. Mabel’s silver hair was tied up into a knot and covered with a kerchief. She raised an equally silver brow. “She keeps mumbling. I can’t understand a single word.”
Cassie went to the water ewer. It was nearly empty. “I’ll fetch more from the well.”
There was one water pump out back of the house, in the alley that supplied the whole block. Cassie had never given a moment’s thought to where her water came from before. That one realization had made her feel inordinately spoiled. Now she knew that if anyone wanted to drink well water, itwas wisest to boil it first. Elyse even sometimes strained it through broken clumps of charcoal.
“Thank you, Miss Jane,” Mabel said, calling Cassie by the name she used at Hope House. Even Elyse called her Jane, at least when others were with them.
Miss Jane Banks was a middle-class woman from Cheapside, whose father had left her with a tidy sum of family money and a wish to do good in the world. Hope House was the realization of that. At least that was the story she and Elyse had whipped up to tell anyone who asked. But the truth was, the women here usually had too many troubles of their own to pry too deeply into the lives of the few caring for them.
That being said, being open that she was the sister of a duke and a lady of the peerage would have been a folly. No one would trust her, or feel they had anything at all in common with her. Such irony. Cassie had more in common with these women than she did with most of the ladies she knew in the West End of London.
She returned from the common well and over the next hour or so, assisted Mabel as she soothed Dorie. It was Cassie’s task to encourage her to sip broth, which Sister Agatha, a nun from a church in Spitalfields who came in daily to cook, had made. It was difficult work, as Dorie was nearly insensate. Mabel and Elyse had already told her that she could go for the evening, that they would handle everything when the doctor arrived. However, Cassie wanted to stay. She felt a true purpose here, even if she was just lifting a cup to Dorie’s lips or changing the sheets on her bed. What would she do at home? Take supper. Have a glass of brandy.Read. And wonder how Dorie was faring. No, she may as well just stay put.
Downstairs, the bell connected to the front office chimed.
“I hope that’s the doctor,” Elyse said before hurrying for the stairs.
Dorie had about a month before she was expected to deliver. After the child was born, she would decide whether to keep the baby or place it out. No matter her choice, she could stay for another month to recover. During that time, they would help Dorie plan for after she left. If she kept her baby, as a single mother, she would need an income. That was Cassie’s primary duty at Hope House—to help each woman begin again. She found them lodging, employment, and continued to check in every few weeks. Only if the women wanted it, of course. Some didn’t. Many turned their newborns over to the sisters at St. Paul’s Church in Shadwell or St. Mary’s in Bishopsgate and returned to their lives. But at least so far, all the women had abided by the foremost rule of Hope House—to only share its existence with those in need.
At the sounds of Elyse’s return, and the low tenor of the doctor’s voice, Cassie collected the basket holding the stripped bed linens and started for the door. The room was far too small for all of them. She would only be in the way.
“I’ll bring these to the wash,” she told Mabel as Elyse reentered. Cassie stood aside for the doctor to come through, and when he did, her heart stuttered to a stop.
“Mabel, Jane, this is Doctor Brown,” Elyse said. His eyes went first toward the bed and his patient. Then, he turned hisattention toward Cassie. Recognition flared in his peridot eyes.
Lord Grant Thornton went motionless as he stared, awestruck. She tried to breathe, tried to move, but her feet had as good as sealed to the floor. His lips parted, the space between his brows furrowing.
“Doctor Brown?”
Elyse’s voice cut through the roar of panic in Cassie’s ears. She’d been speaking, apparently, but neither Cassie nor Lord Thornton had been listening.
He blinked and broke his fierce stare. “Yes, forgive me. You were saying, Miss Khan?”
His eyes jumped back toward Cassie, though only for a moment, before he set down his doctor’s bag.
“This is Mrs. Mabel D’Costa, another midwife here, and this is Miss Jane Banks.” Elyse shot her a concerned glance. She’d noticed their mutual shock. Well, of course, she had! The whole world had come to a screeching halt. Cassie still hadn’t drawn breath.
Lord Thornton acknowledged Mabel, and then turned to Cassie again. “MissBanks,” he said, drawing out her name.
She hitched her chin. “DoctorBrown.”
