Читать книгу The Surgeon's Lady - Carla Kelly - Страница 9

Lt. Brittle left before breakfast. Laura thought she might have to bully her sister to sit still and eat, in her anticipation for the captain to arrive, but admonition was unnecessary. After the meal, Nana went to the kitchen to plan the week’s menus, while Laura went to the book room to write a letter to Taunton.

Writing the letter was a simple matter. Laura wondered what her butler and housekeeper would say when they learned she planned to stay in Torquay for the immediate future. She wanted to recommend holidays for them all, but knew that would be a shock to the system for her retainers, none of whom was younger than fifty.

She was sealing the letter when she heard the front door open, then firm steps in the front hall. He’s here, she thought. Nana will never hear him from the kitchen. She stood up, wondering whether to go to the kitchen or into the foyer to introduce herself. Shyness kept her from doing either, but it didn’t matter.

“Nana?”

Captain Worthy’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried, even though probably not far enough to reach the kitchen.

Laura hadn’t known her sister long. Certainly she had no reason to appreciate how close a bond between husband and wife could be. She opened the bookroom door just as Nana sped past her, arms open wide.

Their embrace was wordless, but the intensity of it made Laura catch her breath. She opened the door enough to see her sister caught in the arms of a tall man made even taller by the fore and aft hat he wore, which was cocked slightly to the side to accommodate a bandage around his head.

Before he kissed his wife, he removed his hat. Nana’s hands were gentle on his neck, careful not to touch his ear as he kissed her, kissed her again, and once more after that, until Nana ducked and asked him when he had last shaved.

That seemed a good note for Laura to open the door wider and meet her brother-in-law, except that she stood where she was, transfixed by what followed. Oliver dropped to his knees and rested the undamaged side of his head against Nana’s belly. With a sob, her little sister laid her hands on him like a benediction.

Laura softly closed the door as her heart pounded. All she could think of to do was thank the Almighty for tender mercies and count slowly to one hundred before opening the door again.

She found the Worthys in the sitting room, looking out the window at the bay, the captain standing behind Nana, his arms around his whole family. He appeared to be resting his chin on Nana’s head.

I still shouldn’t be here, Laura thought, embarrassed. She turned to go, but the captain looked around and smiled to see her. He let go of Nana and walked toward her. She thought he might bow, but he didn’t bother. Taking her by both arms, he kissed her forehead.

“Life’s too short to stand on much formality, sister,” he said. “Start by calling me Oliver.”

What could she do but agree? “I am Laura Taunton,” she replied, “and most heartily pleased to meet you.”

He was handsome in a seagoing way, with a myriad of wrinkles around his eyes that were probably caused by years of facing into wind and water. His lips were thin as a Scotsman’s and his nose full of character. Still, none of his features registered as much as his brown eyes, so warm and kind, probably only because he was in the presence of the person he held most dear in the world. On the quarterdeck, she did not doubt he was absolute monarch. At home, her sister ruled, even though she probably did not know it.

Laura took all this in, understanding her brother-in-law completely before she had said more than a sentence to him. How strange life was. In two days she had gone from having no family in the world, to the possession of a sister and a brother. Maybe there really was a God in Heaven.

Nana stood by Oliver now, making him sit down on the sofa, then putting a pillow behind his head.

“My love, would you humor me and let Philemon Brittle look at your ear?” Nana asked.

Laura knew her brother-in-law would refuse his wife nothing. In his world of war over which he had no control, any gesture of kindness to his wife must have felt like the greatest gift he could give. He nodded.

“I’ll get him,” Laura said.

She took the well-traveled path between the two houses. So his name is Philemon, and not merely Phil, she told herself. It has been a long time since I have read that particular book of the New Testament. I wonder if anyone reads it.

Lt. Brittle came to the door, his shirtsleeves rolled up. “Just helping me mum with the dishes,” he said. “Come in. Did I see a chaise pull up with Captain Worthy?”

“You did,” she said, walking with him to the kitchen, where Nora Brittle was up to her elbows in soapy water. “Good day, Mrs. Brittle. May I help?”

The surgeon handed his dish towel to her. “You finish. I’ll get my pocket instruments and some wadding.”

Laura took the plate Mrs. Brittle handed her, wondering when she had last dried a dish. In the last day, I have been hugged and cosseted, and cried over and touched, she thought, as her eyes prickled. People need me. If I am ever alone again, it will be my own fault and no one else’s.

“Are you feeling all right, Lady Taunton?” Mrs. Brittle asked quietly.

“Never better.”

After sitting Oliver Worthy in a straight chair, draping a towel around his neck and advising Nana to recline on the sofa out of view of the injury, Lt. Brittle took out a pair of long-nosed scissors from his packet of instruments, then handed the rest to Laura.

“I should ask—are you up for this?”

He seemed to expect no answer but yes, so she did not disappoint him. It wasn’t the place, not with Nana looking so anxious, but perhaps later she could tell him that she actually was curious.

Laura noticed that Nana was looking more distressed by the moment. In fact, she was getting ready to leave the sofa for a look of her own. Obviously, her husband felt unwilling to subject her to that kind of stress.

“Stay there, m’dear,” Oliver said. “I am in good hands, as you well know. Laura, you should ask the surgeon to tell you of the time he stitched a teat back on a cow’s udder.”

Well done, she thought, even as she laughed, and Nana relaxed on the sofa again. “You must tell me, Lieutenant.”

Brittle had finished unwinding the bandage. After folding the blood-dappled portion inward so Nana could not see it, the surgeon handed it to Laura. He snipped at the hair around Oliver’s ear.

“Oh, that cow. You would remind me, Captain. That was when I voyaged with you as surgeon’s assistant on the Chrysalis, wasn’t it? As I recall, you were a lieutenant, and determined to assure your captain that I could patch a cow’s teat.”

Laura asked. “On a ship?”

“It’s common enough,” Nana said. “You’d be amazed what some officers will take on board, as they prepare for a long voyage.”

“Pigs, cows, chickens … it’s a regular Noah’s ark,” Oliver said. “Due to my mismanagement, Captain Fitzgerald’s little Jersey sustained an undignified injury when a crew under my command swung her into the hold.”

“Nana, your husband promised me all kinds of perquisites if I would but take a needle and thread to the bovine,” Brittle said as he calmly snipped away.

“Did you succeed?” Laura asked, as the surgeon indicated Oliver’s mangled ear, which looked remarkably like liver.

“Succeed? Aye. Earned a prodigious kick to my ass, though.”

You are so composed, Laura thought, as Nana laughed. I can be, too, she told herself as she forced herself not to show any disgust at the sight before her. After the first inward quiver that evidence of raw mortality seemed to invite, she found herself more interested than squeamish.

“Hmm.”

Brittle stood by the captain, hands on hips, lips pursed.

“That is not edifying,” the captain said.

“Perhaps not to you, sir,” Brittle replied. “Your surgeon on the Tireless is still Joseph Barnhart?”

“Yes,” Oliver said, sounding wary.

“He did a fine job. When it heals, you’ll look a little lopsided, but I promise you, you won’t frighten children. Not even your own.”

Captain Worthy gingerly touched what remained of his ear. “Just as long as I still terrify midshipmen.”

“You will, sir. Lady Taunton, observe how well it is granulating.” He pointed at the raw rim. “Barnhart threw some nice blanket stitches on the lobe, or what’s left of it.”

She looked closer, because he seemed to expect it. As she gazed at the injury to her brother-in-law’s ear, it suddenly occurred to her that a common surgeon with the preposterous name of Philemon Brittle was treating her as an equal. She thought how appalled Sir James Taunton would have been by her even being in the room, much less in Torquay visiting a sister as illegitimate as she was. The sheer audacity of it all made her smile.

“It is funny-looking,” Brittle said, which made the captain grin.

“I’m not laughing at your ear, Oliver,” Laura protested. “Lt. Brittle, I might tell you later what was amusing me.”

“Very well,” he said, holding out his hand. “Give me that same pad, please, and then the bandage. I’ll reuse it now, but you should replace it tomorrow with a length of gauze I will leave you.”

He seemed to take for granted she would tend Captain Worthy. “I will if Nana lets me,” Laura replied. “After all, this is her ear.”

Both Worthys laughed and exchanged glances that told Laura she was going to busy herself somewhere in the house that afternoon, far from their bedroom.

Lt. Brittle finished his work. “Take good care of him, Nana,” he said. “If he tries to leave the house in less than three days, you have my permission to shoot him.” He replaced the scissors and pocketed his instrument envelope. “Captain, when you return to Plymouth for your court martial, drop by Stonehouse. I’ll compound a salve for you. G’day now.”

She followed him into the hall. “Court martial? What do you mean?”

“Every captain who loses a ship goes through a court martial,” the surgeon explained, as she walked with him. “It’s routine, and from what my father said in his letter this morning—he’ll be here in a few days—the captain was as brave and coolheaded as anyone could wish. He will have another ship quite soon. My da said he already convinced the admiral of the port to keep his crew together and not disperse them to other warships in the harbor.”

It was afternoon now, and Mrs. Brittle had mentioned how her son had to be on his way immediately to Plymouth. Still, he seemed to slow down as he approached the door, giving her all his attention. He put his hand on the knob, but just held it there.

“What were you smiling about?”

“I had the distinct feeling that you were treating me as an equal. Sir, I know nothing about medicine.”

“I disagree,” he replied.

Still he stood there. She put out her hand, which would have astounded her proper butler, and shook the surgeon’s hand. “Thank you for that marvelous performance in there. Nana didn’t have any choice but to relax, did she?”

“No. Under ordinary circumstances, Mama tells me Nana is as tough and resourceful as a Cornish tin-pit pony,” he said, still holding her hand. “Let’s just say I like to handle expectant mothers gently.” He looked into the distance. “Something I learned at university, and most decidedly not at sea.”

“Where you physic cows and cut hair, on occasion?”

“Aye.”

She thought he would release her hand, but he tightened his grip instead and his eyes had gone deadly serious. “Nana knows better than any of us that one half inch to the right, and that splinter would have taken off her husband’s head.”

Laura could think of nothing to say to his candor, but she didn’t have to say anything. He stood even closer, his hand on hers, the sheer size of him reassuring her.

“We all fight Boney in our own way, even Nana.”

She nodded, absurdly wanting to burrow in close to him, because he seemed so sure of himself, so capable.

He released her hand and opened the door. “Now it’s time to kiss my mother adieu and return to the grind. Take a good look at the captain’s ear tomorrow, if you please. If there are red streaks or he is feverish, send Joey Trelease for Mr. Milton.” He hesitated, then plunged ahead. “When you get tired of being a widow, Lady Taunton, I can offer you gainful employment at Stonehouse. What a cheeky tar I am. Goodbye.”

She couldn’t have heard him correctly. After a moment to allow her high color to return to normal, she walked toward the sitting room. The Worthys were already at the top of the stairs. Nana leaned across the banister.

“Laura, Oliver declares he will not lie down and rest unless I am there,” she said.

Laura laughed and blew them both a kiss. You would not let him out of your sight, even if he wanted you to, which he does not, she thought. She went into the sitting room and was standing there, looking out the window a half hour later, as Lt. Brittle left his house, shouldered his sea duffel and started for the harbor.

“I suppose you will take the mail coach,” she said out loud, admiring the pleasant swing of his hips, something she had already noticed in Plymouth, while observing the seagoing fraternity. It must be the loose walk of the deepwater sailor, used to shifting balance on a heaving deck. Whatever it was, she watched him until he was only a small speck, heading down the hill. She doubted she would see him again.

Mrs. Brittle didn’t seem surprised when Laura knocked on the side door. “Come in, dearie,” she said. “I suppose you are a fifth wheel next door right now.”

“Decidedly so,” Laura agreed. “Have you something useful I can do?”

“I do. Phil told me to give you some gauze and wadding for Captain Worthy.”

She followed Mrs. Brittle upstairs to a small bedroom tucked under the eaves. “Watch your head,” the woman advised. “My boys can’t come home often, but I like to have their beds ready.”

She reached under the bed and pulled out a small chest, which contained rolled bandages, and a batt of lint. She set the items on the bed between them, and reached into the chest again, this time pulling out a well-worn case. She opened it, and Laura gasped to see several knives and a saw. Mrs. Brittle touched the dark-stained cloth band on the tourniquet, then closed it again.

“That’s the set Phil used on the Victory, where poor Lord Nelson, God rest his soul, was struck down. He has a much better set now, but he said he’d never part with this one. I don’t know how he does what he does.” She shuddered. “Through the years, I patched up four little Brittles for this and that, but I could never …”

Like mother, like son, Laura decided. Without any discernible urging on Mrs. Brittle’s part, she found herself telling the woman all about the last few years of her life, as she had tended her ailing husband without respite.

“I was grateful when he died,” she finished, “because I was so tired. It was a thankless task.”

Mrs. Brittle cleared his throat. “Forgive my plain speaking, but Nana has told me much about herself. Are you the eldest of Lord Ratliffe’s daughters?”

“As far as I know. Another thankless thing.” Laura replied, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.

She thought she almost succeeded, except that Mrs. Brittle covered her hand with her own. “Not thankless at all, if you’ll pardon me, Lady Taunton. You have a younger sister who has fought her own dragons, and now there are two of you.”

“Does she need me?” Laura asked simply.

“Maybe you need her more,” Mr. Brittle replied, just as honest. “Nights can be long, though, when your man is at sea, and there’s war. She’ll be busy with a baby soon, and I’m next door to help.” She patted Laura’s hand and then released it.

“Are you telling me I could leave here?” Laura asked, remembering what Lt. Brittle had said before he left. Of course, she may have misunderstood him. Her ears weren’t entirely tuned to the soft speech of the West Country.

“Only if you don’t go too far.”

Nana came quietly into the sitting room when the afternoon shadows were starting to fall deep on the lawn. She sat down beside Laura and leaned her head on her shoulder.

“I trust you made him very comfortable,” Laura teased.

“That’s never hard,” Nana said, her cheeks rosy. “I asked him once if he thought I was a loose woman, since I enjoyed … him … so much. He just laughed and did it again.”

Laura couldn’t help smiling at her sister’s artless disclosure. “I suppose every moment is sweeter than the last, since he is not home so much.”

“It is. Sadder, too. I would like to give Boney a piece of my mind.”

“You and most of the women of the Channel Fleet.”

Dinner was eaten in the breakfast room. Laura doubted they ever used the more formal dining room. Oliver ate like a starving man, passing up nothing. He rolled his eyes when Nana patted his middle.

“Almost as big as yours, love,” he said, which earned him a sharp nudge.

It was a curious meal. Between the relaxed banter between the Worthys that Laura found herself envying, Oliver told of the fight off Ferrol Station, when he took on a French ship of the line and received a thrashing, even while sacrificing his frigate so two smaller ships bearing vital dispatches could escape.

“Nana, remember my time in dry dock last November?” he asked. “Well, I think my stern was still vulnerable. The whole rudder sheared off, and we limped here under judicious sail power.” He looked at Laura. “We’d be drowned without Dan Brittle, my sailing master.”

“Did you conn the helm?” Nana asked.

“Most of the time. I slept a little on deck, when I could.” He stood and rested his hands on his wife’s chair back as though the room was suddenly too small. “I trust my helmsmen, but I wanted this way to be my blame and not theirs, if we all drowned. I’m sorry, love, but that’s how it is. Hard to say what would have happened, if we hadn’t reached Drake’s Island before we sank.”

“That’s where the Tireless is?” Nana asked, holding his hand against her cheek now.

“Just off the island. I lost everything, Nana.” He sat down. “Not quite. I took off the log, charts, orders and dispatches, of course.” He reached into his uniform jacket. “And these. Couldn’t leave you behind.”

He unrolled two small sketches of Nana and anchored them to the table with a glass and a plate.

Nana dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Does the Admiralty know what a silly romantic you are?” she asked, her voice gruff.

“Hopefully not. That’s our secret.”

He rolled up the drawings, but left them on the table. “Fifty men are dead, Nana, and others are wounded.”

“Mr. Ramseur?” Nana asked. “He’s Oliver’s first mate, Laura.”

“Hale and hearty.”

He stirred in his chair and Laura thought he would get up again, to roam the room. “Nana, Matthew was injured badly in the fight.”

She gasped. “You didn’t tell me!”

“A splinter on the gun deck took off his arm.” He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Nana. “He’s a powder monkey, Laura. He stayed with Nana at the Mulberry once. He’s eleven now.” He leaned closer to his wife and toyed with her hair. “He lost a lot of blood, Nana, and I won’t say I’m not worried.”

Nana blew her nose and gave her husband a defiant look that told Laura that she was not quite the biddable creature her usual deportment suggested. “I must go to Stonehouse at once. Oliver, he has no one!”

Oliver shook his head. “I’ll not have you and our baby jouncing over bad roads to tend him in a place that will frighten even you, oh fearless one.”

This is easily solved, Laura thought, watching the mutiny in her sister’s eyes and the equal firmness on her brother-in-law’s face.

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

Why did I say that? she asked herself immediately, even as Nana’s eyes lightened up and Oliver looked relieved. I want to help my sister, she assured herself. It has nothing to do with Lt. Brittle’s offer of employment. I can scarcely imagine being influenced by something so totty-headed. He must think I am truly bored.

She had occasion to think about that as she composed herself for sleep later. She climbed into bed with her usual feeling of gratitude, even after the past three years, to know that her late husband would never open her door again. It was dark and there was no one in sight to scold her for feeling that way. She could even allow herself a moment to consider Lt. Brittle’s startling offer.

Laura couldn’t help remembering how Lt. Brittle had tucked up her blanket last night, and patted her shoulder. It was her secret alone: next to Nana’s heartfelt embrace, that was the kindest touch she had ever felt in her life.

“I will visit a powder monkey and I will return to Torquay,” she said out loud to the plaster whorls in the ceiling. “I would have to be an idiot to even consider what Lt. Brittle is suggesting. No one is that bored.”