Brynne jerked to attention, belatedly realizing the man was speaking, and tried to pull herself together. What on earth was wrong with her? It was like she’d never seen a handsome man before. She had to admit, she hadn’t seen many who could rival the good doctor. Even Jake…
At the memory of her late husband, all thoughts of the doctor’s good looks evaporated.
“What can I help you with, Miss…?”
“Mrs. Forrester,” Brynne stated firmly.
Was that disappointment in his eyes? Brynne dismissed the thought. Of course it wasn’t. And even if it was, it was of no concern to her.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Forrester?”
“I was hoping I could speak with you. I know you are very busy, but it would only take a moment.”
“Of course. I was about to take a short break anyway.”
He took her elbow and steered her toward the back of the hall. “Mrs. Birch, I’ll be in my office if there are any emergencies.”
Brynne glanced back and barely kept herself from cringing at the look on the woman’s face. The old bat had a chip on her shoulder the size of a house, one Brynne would dearly love to knock off for her. But that was no way to treat a potential coworker. So, Brynne refrained from returning the woman’s hateful look and followed the doctor.
He opened the door for them and allowed Brynne to enter first. It was definitely a man’s office. All dark wood and leather, though with the enormous window filling the wall opposite the door, the room still managed to be light and airy. Two bookcases ran the length of the walls on either side of her, interspersed with nautical paintings and filled with books and various knick-knacks.
Dr. Oliver helped her into a plush armchair in front of his desk and took the seat next to her instead of sitting behind the desk. She found his proximity unnerving but managed to keep herself in check.
“Now, Mrs. Forrester, what can I do for you today?”
“Well, Dr. Oliver, I’ve come to offer my services.”
His eyebrows rose at that and Brynne hurried to clarify. “My nursing services, I mean.”
“Ah, I see. Are you a trained nurse?” His eyes looked her up and down, his doubt plainly stamped on his face.
“Well, no, not trained exactly. But I do have quite a lot of experience in—”
“Mrs. Forrester,” Dr. Oliver got up and moved to the other side of his desk and sat down, his tone instantly changing from charming to one of dismissive annoyance. “I appreciate that you’d like to find a worthy way to spend your time, and I’m flattered that you considered our establishment, but we do have a full nursing staff already on the premises.”
Brynne bristled. “Dr. Oliver, I am not some bored old biddy who has nothing better to do with her time.” That wasn’t entirely true, but he didn’t need to know that. “I have plenty of nursing experience, even if I haven’t had the actual schooling and—”
“I’m sure you have. But like I said, I’m afraid this facility has all the nursing staff it requires. Of course, we are always grateful to accept the help of affluent members of the community if you would like to volunteer your time in another capacity. We host several fundraisers every year and new patrons are always welcome. Or if you’d prefer to be more personally involved, we are always in need of bandages, blankets, clothing, and the like. If you are handy with a needle, those are always worthwhile pursuits for ladies such as yourself.”
“Ladies such as myself? Dr. Oliver, if I only wanted to donate goods or money, I’d have sent a maid over with the bank note and a bundle of rags.”
“And we would have been very grateful for your donation. I don’t mean to be insulting, Mrs. Forrester. However, we’ve had many patrons over the years who seem to want to work here out of a sense of adventure or even penance and all it serves to do is cause disruption and headache. I commend your willingness to be more involved with those less fortunate than you,” he said, sounding anything but complimentary, “however, I simply cannot allow the disturbance to my staff and patients simply to prove to you what I already know; that you will be as unsuited to the work as the many who have come before you. Now, if you will excuse me, my time is very limited and I must be getting back to—”
“I can do more than rip bandages and sew, Dr. Oliver. If you’d give me a chance—”
“This is a medical clinic, Mrs. Forrester,” he said, his face growing more rigid with every word. “All manner of disease, injury, and pestilence walk through that door. I mean no insult, but women such as you are simply not bred to—”
Brynne rose, her patience for his unjust and insulting arrogance at an end. “Dr. Oliver, I am not some sort of animal that has been “bred” to do anything. And you have no idea who I am or what manner of woman I am. That you would presume to—”
He rose as well. “As I was saying, this is not the type of establishment that a woman such as you would want to spend her time. Surely your husband—”
“My husband is dead.”
Dr. Oliver stopped at that, the irritation fading from his face. “I am sorry to hear that, Mrs. Forrester. Truly.”
“But you still don’t think I have anything to offer you or your clinic.”
“Again, I am sorry, but as I said…”
“Yes. As you said. You’re as small-minded and pig-headed as the rest of the men in this city.”
Dr. Oliver’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak but didn’t seem to be able to find anything to say. Well, at least she could take some small satisfaction from their disastrous meeting. She’d rendered the arrogant bastard speechless. Hurrah!
She went to the door, grabbing the handle before he’d gathered himself enough to move. “I’ll see myself out, thank you very much.”
She left before he could say another word.
…
Brynne pushed her way through the gates and marched down the street, still fuming over her dismissal. A loud noise echoed through the air, stopping her dead in her tracks. She cocked her head, trying to figure out what had made such a sound. A moment passed, but she heard nothing else. Then a sharp crack splintered the silence, followed by an ominous rumble.
The screaming began as the rumbling turned into a deafening, ground-shaking cacophony of sound.
Brynne turned and ran back the way she’d come. She rounded the corner and ran straight into a cloud of debris and dust. Oh sweet heaven, the wall of the renovated building had collapsed.
She pulled out her handkerchief and covered her mouth, squinting to protect her eyes as much as she could from the dust. What she was able to see made her stomach drop into her toes. Bodies lay everywhere. Most, thankfully, were still moving. Men scrambled to get as far from the toppled wall as they could, crawling if they couldn’t walk. Dr. Oliver and his staff were already swarming over the scene, helping those who were pulled from the rubble.
Brynne debated finding the doctor and offering her help, but the scene was one of pure chaos. And she was going to help anyway, so asking him for permission would really be an unnecessary interruption. Besides, she doubted her assistance would be any more welcome now than it had been minutes before. But she didn’t see any reason the injured men should be denied her help simply because the doctor wasn’t intelligent enough to utilize a good resource when it was offered.
The nurses were separating the injured into two groups; those who were injured, but still mobile, and those that were hurt more grievously and needed to be carried into the clinic. Brynne started with the man closest to her, inspecting his injuries and directing him to the group with minor injuries before moving on to the next man. She’d sent six men in that direction before she found one that was going to need help, and quickly.
She dropped to her knees next to him so she could get a closer look at his injuries. But before she could do anything, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her up.
“Mrs. Forrester? What in the world are you doing here?”
Brynne looked into the angry face of Dr. Oliver. “I�
��m helping. Now remove your hand from my arm, please,” she said, resisting the urge to yank her arm from his grip.
He released her. “This is no place for you, Mrs. Forrester. You will be in the way and in danger here. I must ask you to leave. For your own safety.”
Brynne bit back the retort on her tongue. Now was not the time or place to re-educate the arrogant bastard, even if he desperately needed someone to put him in his place. Anything Brynne had been going to say was interrupted when the man at their feet moaned and shifted, revealing an enormous pool of blood that was quickly spreading.
Brynne gasped and dropped to her knees, ignoring the doctor’s shouts of protest as he dropped down beside her.
The blood looked like it was coming from the man’s arm, but Brynne couldn’t see the injury through his clothes. She grasped the man’s torn sleeve and yanked hard, ripping it clean off. Dr. Oliver looked at her in surprise but turned his attention back to the injured man who had a gash on his arm that was pumping blood out at an alarming rate.
The man whimpered and Brynne spared a glance for him. He was hardly more than a boy. She doubted he was seventeen—if that. And he was terrified. He needed to calm down. His accelerated heart rate was only serving to pump the blood out of his body faster.
“Hi there,” Brynne said, trying to make her voice as soothing as possible. He turned his frightened gaze to her and she gave him the most reassuring smile she could muster. “You’re going to be fine, all right? But I need you to try and calm down for me.”
The man nodded, but his breathing didn’t slow. And neither did the blood. It didn’t help matters that Dr. Oliver was bellowing like a constipated mule for someone to bring him a stretcher and bandages.
Brynne shot the doctor a scathing look but turned to the injured man again. “Look at me, okay? Right here,” she said, pointing at her eyes.
The man obeyed her and she smiled at him. “There you go.” She fumbled with the hem of her dress and grasped her petticoat.
“What are you doing?” the doctor asked, the shock clear in his voice. Brynne could picture the look on his face, but she was too busy trying to save his patient to risk a glance. She grabbed hold of the bottom of her petticoat and yanked, ripping a long length from it.
“I’m going to wrap this around your arm. You keep right on looking at me,” she told the psatient.
Brynne went to wrap the bandage around his wound to form a tourniquet, but the doctor took it from her. Brynne took her eyes from her patient for a second and looked at the doctor. His face had softened. He gazed at her, almost bewildered, but at least he wasn’t trying to shove her out of the way anymore. He took the makeshift bandage and started to bind the man’s arm.
Brynne took the wounded man’s hand in her own. He whimpered again and she murmured soothingly to him. “What’s your name?”
“Edward,” he said. His voice was barely audible.
“Edward, that is my father-in-law’s name also. A good, strong name. Is it a family name?”
Edward nodded. “My father’s name.”
Dr. Oliver had finished binding his arm and motioned to some men passing by with a stretcher.
“Edward, Dr. Oliver is going to get you taken care of, all right? They need to take you inside the clinic.”
“Will you come, too?”
Brynne glanced at the doctor who nodded with no hesitation this time, although his brow was still drawn in perplexed wrinkles as he regarded her.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be right here. Ready?”
Edward nodded again and the men quickly transferred him onto the stretcher and carried him through the rubble into the clinic.
Brynne stayed right on the doctor’s heels and when there were no available nurses to assist him in stitching Edward’s arm, Brynne scrubbed her hands and did the best she could to help. The doctor managed to get the bleeding to slow and he repaired what damage he could inside the wound and stitched it up. Edward had long since fainted from the pain, which was a blessing.
He’d begun to dress and bind the wound when a shout drew his attention.
“Dr. Oliver!”
The doctor looked in the direction of the shouting nurse and swore under his breath. She and two other nurses where trying to hold down a patient with a head wound who was convulsing.
Dr. Oliver placed a wad of bandages over Edward’s wound and put Brynne’s hands on top. “Bind this as best you can for now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Brynne nodded and carefully wrapped the bandage around Edward’s arm. The movement caused Edward to whimper but he didn’t fully wake. Brynne looked at the rest of his arm. His shoulder had a huge bruise that was coloring nicely, and one of his fingers was definitely broken. Brynne gently probed his shoulder and Edward moaned again.
“Dr. Oliver,” she called. Edward’s finger needed to be splinted and his shoulder was dislocated. Resetting both the finger and joint would be better done while Edward was still unconscious.
Dr. Oliver glanced up but immediately turned his attention to stitching the bleeding gash of the patient before him.
After several minutes it became clear the doctor wasn’t coming back soon. Brynne bit her lip. She knew what to do. It certainly wouldn’t be the first broken bone or dislocated joint she’d set, and in far worse conditions than her present surroundings. In fact, her sister Cilla had received similar injuries when she’d been thrown from a horse when they were younger.
Brynne looked around. Everyone was scurrying to and fro, their attention focused elsewhere. Edward moaned again.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Brynne muttered.
She took Edward’s forearm in one hand, placed her other on his shoulder, set her feet, and pulled with a quick, hard yank. Edward jerked with a groan as his joint popped back into place, but he didn’t wake. Brynne went to work on splinting his finger.
Dr. Oliver returned right as she was finishing.
“Mrs. Forrester! How dare yo—”
“Shhh.” Brynne shushed him, shooting him a furious glare. If he woke the poor boy when she’d tried so hard to keep him asleep through the whole procedure she’d brain him with a bedpan.
The doctor sputtered, his face bright red with anger. Until he looked at his patient’s arm. His stitches had been dressed and neatly bound, the swelling at his shoulder had already reduced, and his broken finger lay, swollen but straight, between the others. Brynne felt a small rush of pride. She did damn fine work, if she did say so herself.
“Excuse me,” she said, elbowing the doctor out of the way so she could finish binding Edward’s finger to the small splint she’d found.
Dr. Oliver stepped back with a bemused expression on his face and let her finish up.
“All right then,” she said when she’d finished. “Did you have something to say to me?”
The doctor’s lips pursed in a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “Let’s see to the others. Then we can speak in my office.”
Brynne nodded, tamping down the rush of adrenaline flooding through her system. She hadn’t felt this alive and useful since she’d arrived in Boston. She wasn’t sure how much of the feeling was stemming from helping Edward or from the upcoming confrontation with the doctor. The possibility that it might be the latter dampened the sensation a bit.
By the time Edward was peacefully resting, Dr. Oliver’s face had lost a bit of the irritated and confused look, and by the time they’d made the rounds to the rest of the ward during which Brynne helped bandage and clean up all manner of vile bodily fluids and messes, he’d lost it altogether. In fact, as they removed their stained aprons and washed the blood from their hands, the doctor kept glancing at her with bemused surprise. And a begrudging respect.
“What is it?” she asked him with a mild glare. “Did I miss a spot? Is there a smudge on my face?”
He grinned, and the laugh lines around his eyes made a reappearance. “No. You’ve surprised me, that’s all. Not many people do.”
“I suspect a great many women would surprise you if you’d give them half the chance.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Most of the gentlewomen in Boston are just that. Gently born, gently raised. Brought up to be patrons of the arts and the city, and preside at fetes and balls and fundraisers, and run their households. Very few could handle themselves as well as you did today.”
Brynne snorted. “I’ve field dressed bullet wounds and sewn up injuries with the needle and thread from my sewing kit. A little blood or case of the backdoor trots isn’t going to make me faint.”
Dr. Oliver’s eyes rose and Brynne flushed. He must think she was unforgivably crass.
“You’ll have to tell me about your experiences one of these days, Mrs. Forrester.”
“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again, Dr. Oliver?” she asked.
His lips twitched and he rubbed his knuckle over his lips. “Why not? Why don’t you come back on Monday? We can give it a trial period and see how you do.”
Brynne released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She told herself it was because she was so looking forward to being useful again. It had nothing to do with wanting to see the arrogant ass. Even now, after everything she’d done that morning to help, he was still only willing to let her return on a trial. Fine. She’d show him what she was capable of.
“Well then, I suppose I will see you Monday then, Dr. Oliver.”
“I’ll escort you home.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Necessary or not, I will accompany you.”
Arguing further was pointless, so Brynne gathered her shawl and waited by the door.
Her heart fluttered as he strode toward her. She didn’t like what the sensation might mean. She would have to be careful around the doctor.
He smiled when he reached her and her heart jumped again.
Oh, yes. Very careful.
Blood Blade Sisters Series (Entangled Scandalous) Page 24
