The Surgeon's Lady

Wary, the woman nodded, tucking herself into a tighter ball.

“Where’s your man?”

“Dead these three months at Basque Roads,” the woman whispered.

“If you lose your job, you will all starve,” Laura said. “Or end up in a workhouse, at the very least. I’m not certain that would be a blessing.”

The woman nodded, tears in her eyes again. She leaned her forehead into her knees and sobbed.

I’m a curious contradiction, Laura thought, as she went to the woman and tugged her to her feet. A few minutes ago I wanted to stuff her head down the sluice hole. Now I don’t. She grasped her by the back of her dress and gave her a shake, then pushed her into the hall and the ward next door, as the woman shrieked and tried to dig her heels into the floor.

Lt. Brittle was on his feet. “Good God, Laura!” he exclaimed, then was silent, disgust on his face, as he saw who it was making the noise. A low sound like a growl from several of the men made Laura’s blood run in chunks, and terrified the woman, who tried to make herself small under Laura’s armpit.

At a nod from the surgeon, one of the orderlies grabbed her. She stood there, head bowed, shoulders slumped, her hair in strings around her face.

“What can you possibly have to say for yourself?” Lt. Brittle asked, after a long silence.

“I was afraid,” she said at last.

“So was this lady,” the surgeon replied, his voice as quiet as hers. “She didn’t run, though. Maude, you’re sacked. Get out of here before the Marines come running and clap you in irons.”

The woman wrenched herself free of the orderly and dropped to her knees. “My children will starve!” she cried.

Laura took a deep breath and stepped deliberately in front of the bedraggled woman. “Don’t sack her.”

“You can’t possibly think she should stay on here,” Lt. Brittle said, looking more puzzled than irritated, which gave Laura the courage to continue.

“I certainly do not. She isn’t fit to watch kittens.” Laura gestured around her. “Does Stonehouse have a laundry? Put her there. Her man is dead at Basque Roads and she has children to feed. I will not have that on my conscience. I think you do not want that, either.”

She had him there, and she knew it, as sure as she knew there was no reason for anyone in B Ward to offer any hope. As she looked the surgeon in the eye, and he returned her gaze just as emphatically, she thought of what Sir David Carew would do, or even what her own father would have done, had he been there to pass judgment on frailty.

He was silent a long time. “I’m inclined to agree with you, Lady Taunton,” he said, then looked at the woman. “Maude, you should be horsewhipped and never employed at this hospital again.”

The woman said nothing, only hung her head lower.

Lt. Brittle turned to Davey Dabney, pale and watchful. “It’s your choice, Davey. No one in this room will fault you if you want her sacked.”

Maude began to cry, lowering herself even closer to the floor as her tears fell on wood slimy with the seaman’s blood. I can’t watch this, Laura thought, even as she stood there, her hands tightly clasped together. This is worse than anything I endured today.

“Send her to the laundry,” Davey said, his voice rough and barely audible above the woman’s sobs. “And my sheets better come back smooth like a baby’s bum or you’ll be out on yours.”