Page 74 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
“More.”
“A lot more or only a little?”
“A moderate amount.”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Hmm… Well, I am sorry to inform you that this baby will not survive. Best to let your body take care of the process. It will probably take several hours, perhaps even days.” He glanced at the drawn curtains while removing a handkerchief from his pocket. His bony fingers clutched the cloth as he first dabbed his forehead and then the tip of his nose. Last, he used the piece to wipe his hands.
Susannah cringed at the sight.
“Call me if the bleeding becomes too intense or you start to feel the need to push.” And with that, he walked out, not once even touching Melior.
Susannah wanted to chase after him, to ask what he meant by too intense, to ask why he did not give her anything for the pain, but Melior’s hand tightened around hers and she knew her place was here with her friend.
The housekeeper and a maid brought a basin of water, extra linens, and a cloth to wipe Melior’s brow. They spoke in whispers as they moved about the room, but eventually were asked to leave, their motion and noise irritating Melior.
Sir Nathaniel stormed in twenty minutes later, his face darkening at his wife’s prone form. “Mrs. Clark said the doctor left, and without talking to me. Did he do anything? What did he say?”
Melior listlessly turned her head to look at him. “He said to—” Her voice broke and another tear slipped down her cheek. The frustration on the baronet’s face faded and, sitting gingerly on the other side of the bed, he took up her other hand.
“He said what, dearest?”
Melior cast Susannah a look of desperation.
“He said the baby will not survive,” she said. “And to let Melior’s body handle the process. We are to call him if the bleeding worsens or she feels it’s time to push.”
Sir Nathaniel’s brows slammed down and he cursed under his breath. “And there was no other care given. What about draughts for the pain?”
Susannah shook her head, then returned her focus to Melior as another wave of pain hit her. When the pain passed, she glanced up at Sir Nathaniel. The desperation and fear in his face broke her heart.
Rushed footsteps echoed in the hall before the door flew open and Miss Harris appeared. She took in the room quickly.
“Nate, Al and John are downstairs with Mr. Kendall. You need to be with them.”
“But my wife—”
“This is no place for a man, Nate.” She crossed the room and took hold of his arm.
Another person stepped in but hung back, her dark gown nearly blending with the shadows. Susannah might have missed her had her halo of golden curls not shone in the dim candlelight.
Miss Harris pulled Sir Nathaniel to the door and pushed him out, shutting it firmly behind him.
“What are you doing here?” Melior hissed, her eyes locked on Lady Braithwaite.
“Mel, hear me out,” Miss Harris said. “Livy has had far more experience than any of the rest of us in this. I know you worry about her reputation, but she can help you, unlike that devil of a doctor who has left you to suffer.”
Melior’s gaze shifted to Miss Harris, her eyes creased and her jaw locked. She began to squeeze Susannah’s hand but it was the only outward sign of her pain. Her stoic expression was so different from how she’d handled the rest of her pains, as if she could not let down her guard around the new lady.
Lady Braithwaite stood straight; her hands clasped firmly in front of her. It was the first time Susannah had seen her without a cane of some sort. The lady’s face held the same immovable expression that left no room for weakness, and yet in her eyes Susannah saw a flicker of uncertainty. “We were friends once, Lady Stanford. Or at least on cordial terms. Can we not be again?”
Melior did not answer. Was it from pain or an unwillingness to let go of the past?
Lady Braithwaite sighed. “This is a very private thing and I will not invade on your privacy if you do not wish it, but Icanhelp you.”
“How could you possibly know how to help me?” Melior said through gritted teeth. “For all I know you have come to gather gossip, much like you do with the rest of Society, only to wield it like a sword against me when the fancy suits you.”
Susannah glanced between the pair, her brow furrowing. From the little she knew, gossip in Society was directed toward Lady Braithwaite, not coming from her.
The tiny lady stepped forward. “I never share things of a moral nature, Lady Stanford. You should know that by now. You and your husband have done nothing to be ashamed of, thereforethere is no gossip to be had. I swear to you nothing that happens here shall pass through my lips.”
