“Wedding jitters,” Mrs. Garforth said with a grin. “You always did get nervous when you had to perform.”
Marshall missed a step, tripping over his feet. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, twisting to stare at Mrs. Garforth with wide eyes.
She blinked at him. “When you were a boy,” she said, her face a mask of innocence. “When there was a play or a recital or anything where you had to stand up in front of other people. It always upset your digestion.”
Heat flooded Marshall’s face. Mrs. Garforth had been a matron when the hospital had been the Brynthwaite Municipal Orphanage. She’d watched him, Jason, and Lawrence grow up, though the type of attention she’d given them couldn’t be classified as motherly. The other side of that coin was that Marshall had known her his entire life, and ribald jokes were not in her vocabulary. She couldn’t possibly have known how anxious about performing he was.
“Yes, well,” he said, not knowing what else to say. He cleared his throat and hurried on, dashing down the stairs to get away from the awkwardness.
At the bottom of the stairs, he nearly ran headlong into Alex herself.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, pivoting away from him in order to keep them both from falling over. “I beg your pardon.”
“No, it was my fault entirely,” Marshall apologized, unable to stand still, his gaze refusing to settle on anything. “I should have watched where I was going.” And he should have thought twice about offering his hand in marriage to a woman who was miles above him in every way.
“Not at all,” Alex said with a stiff smile, clasping her hands in front of her, then letting them go, then fidgeting with her skirt. She cleared her throat, her cheeks bright pink. “I shouldn’t have been so distracted.”
“I shouldn’t even be seeing you,” Marshall blurted, writhing inside. “The groom’s not supposed to see the bride on—” He snapped his mouth shut, feeling downright ill.
Alex laughed nervously. “It’s not as though….” She stopped and cleared her throat. “We can’t avoid each other at work, in spite of…the day.”
“Certainly. I mean, certainly not.” Marshall cleared his throat. He had yet to work up the nerve to look her in the eye.
“After all,” she said, her voice higher and wispier than usual, “we can make up whatever rules we want, seeing as we’ve created the situation to suit our needs.”
“Yes, absolutely, you’re right.” And his needs had been growing more pronounced by the day. Blast him, but he was turning into Jason in the way his mind wouldn’t stay out of the gutter where Alex was concerned. Within hours, she would be his wife and, as a husband, he would have every right to make love to her as much as he chose. If she chose. It was entirely likely that she would draw a line in the sand and cut him off from the start.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Dr. Pycroft?” she asked him.
Marshall winced at her use of his surname and at the fact that she’d noticed his distress at all. There was nothing for it but to be dead honest with her. “I’m nervous,” he said, meeting her eyes at last. “It’s a big step.”
The anxiety in Alex’s eyes melted into a warm sympathy that surprised him. Her soft lips turned up in a guilty smile. “It’s a massive step.” She reached for his hand, sending sparks up his arm. “But we’re taking it together.”
Marshall’s heart felt as though it were swelling in his chest. He opened his mouth, unable to resist the temptation to say something hideously maudlin and sentimental. But before the words formed, there was a thump and crash from the waiting room at the end of the hall, followed by a woman’s high-pitched scream.
Instantly, Marshall dropped Alex’s hand and dashed toward the waiting room, Alex right beside him. The few patients who were waiting for treatment were in the process of leaping out of the way as two men carried a young woman across the room. Her dress was splattered with blobs of dark red, and her face was a mess of swollen, red flesh. She continued to scream and flail, attempting to reach for her face. The men holding her struggled to keep her hands still.
“What happened here?” Alex asked, reaching the group first.
“Canning accident,” one of the men grunted. “It ’sploded everywhere.”
“What exploded?” Marshall asked, though all it took was a look to see the answer. The young woman had been peppered with shards of glass. Her face had dozens of lacerations and some shards of glass were still sticking out at sick angles. Her hands were littered with glass as well. The sweet smell that wafted up from the red splattering her dress was fruit jam as well as blood. “Get her back to the operating theater,” he said without waiting for an answer.
“This way,” Alex added. She darted ahead, gesturing for the men to follow her.
The young woman continued to scream and flail, obviously in agony, as the men bumped and jostled her down the hallway. Marshall brought up the rear, directing them to put the woman on the table once they were there.
“Chloroform?” Alex asked, already opening the cabinet where the supplies were stored.
“Indeed,” Marshall answered. It would have been cruel not to knock the woman unconscious when she was in so much pain. “Once she’s out, I’ll need the two of you to wait outside,” he told the men who’d carried her in.
“Can’t,” one of them said. “If we don’t get back to work, we lose our jobs.”
“Fine, then go.” Marshall nodded. The two men were forgotten in an instant as he marched over to where Alex already had a chloroform mask over the young woman’s mouth and nose. As soon as she stopped struggling and passed out, the men unhanded her and headed for the door. “How long will she stay out?” Marshall asked, already assessing the work ahead of them.
“Long enough,” Alex answered.
Everything else was forgotten. The nerves that had rendered Marshall nearly immobile just minutes before were gone as he scrubbed his hands and prepared to extract glass from the young woman’s face, hands, and wherever else it had penetrated. Alex moved with speed and efficiency as well, donning an apron and washing blood and jam from the patient’s skin while keeping an eye on the chloroform. They worked perfectly together. Words were hardly necessary. They each knew what needed to be done and were of the same mind as to how it should be accomplished. Within half an hour, between the two of them, they’d pulled all the glass from her skin, dressed and bound her wounded hands, and done what they could for her face.
“What do you think about that eye?” Alexandra asked, staring, as Marshall did, at the last major hurdle in their operation.
Marshall let out a long sigh. “I don’t think she’s going to be able to keep it. Even if we tried, that shard pierced it too deeply. The sight is gone, and I’d rather remove it entirely than risk infection.”
“Agreed.” Alex nodded. “I’ll prepare the instruments.”
An hour later, with the young woman’s left eyeball removed and the rest of her wounds cleaned and bound, after Nurse Nyman and Nurse Stephens had carried the woman up to a bed in the women’s and children’s ward, Marshall finally took a deep breath and sat on the edge of his desk in the office he and Alex shared.
“That wasn’t how I expected to spend this morning,” he said as Alex walked into the room, tying a fresh apron behind her back.
She laughed. “I have yet to spend a day in this hospital that turns out the way I expected it to.”
Marshall smiled at her, the anxiety he’d felt before their patient hovering at the back of his mind without causing him more distress than usual. “There’s more madness and mayhem where that patient came from,” he said. “We’ve only just begun to see our scheduled patients for the day.”
Alex made a wry sound and shook her head. “No rest for the wicked.”
“None at all,” Marshall agreed. But rather than jumping up to get on with things, he stayed where he was as Alex crossed the room to lean against the desk beside him. “Have you done everything you need to do for tonight?” he asked softly.
She nodded. “Jason helped me steal away and took a suitcase for me. It will be waiting at the hotel tonight. I’ll fetch the rest of my belongings in a day or so.”
“Good.” Marshall swallowed. Thoughts of the honeymoon suite threatened to tie his nerves in knots again. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” he asked, dreading her answer.
Alex took a deep breath before turning to him with a resolved smile. “Yes. I’m sure.” She covered his hand with hers. “This is the life I want.”
If only Marshall was certain she was referring to a life with him instead of the life of a physician. He smiled anyhow, then nodded and stood. “Very well. We’ve got work to do before we can do the deed later.” He nearly stumbled over himself again as the words spilled out of his mouth. “The wedding, I mean.”
She smirked at him as though she could read his thoughts. And why couldn’t she? He knew full well she wasn’t a blushing, innocent virgin. George Fretwell had seen to that just a few months ago, damn the man to Hell.
“We’d better get started,” she said with a grin as she passed him and walked into the hall.
“Oh,” Marshall said, catching up to her. “I’ve promised Lawrence I’ll meet him for lunch at The Fox and the Lion.”
“How are they doing?” Alex asked as they stepped into the hall, her smirk turning into a concerned frown.
“That’s what I’m going to find out,” Marshall said.
They parted ways as they each took a patient from the waiting room to see, but Marshall’s thoughts stayed with the problem of Lawrence. It was yet another thing to pull his nerves taut.
It had been a month since Matty Wright, Lawrence’s…Marshall wasn’t certain what to call her. Lover seemed too impermanent, considering the woman was pregnant with his child. Wife wasn’t an option, since Lawrence was opposed to the institution of marriage in general. Whatever she was, Matty had been through the wringer over the summer. She’d been accused of murdering her mother, but had been found innocent when her step-father, Trevor Hoag, had confessed to the crime. Hoag was in prison awaiting a trial of his own now, but that meant that Matty’s three younger half-siblings had landed in her and Lawrence’s lap. Lawrence knew nothing about being a father, and there he was, suddenly a father of sorts to three, troubled children with one of his own on the way.
“I’m off now,” he called to Alex an hour later as he switched his white coat for a grey one.
“Tell Lawrence I wish him well,” Alex said distractedly as she pored over a patient chart.
“You can tell him yourself. He’s coming to the wedding this afternoon,” Marshall said. It was the first time he’d been able to speak casually about the wedding.
Alex glanced up in surprise. “Is he? I thought it was going to be a small affair.”
“He’s one of my best friends,” Marshall said, suddenly anxious all over again. “Jason is coming too, and Flossie, of course.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Alex said, her cheeks going pink.
Marshall nodded before leaving. He was probably a coward for not staying and facing whatever reservations Alex clearly had about the whole thing. It didn’t matter how many or how few people attended the wedding. Everyone would know they were married within a few days regardless of how many witnesses there were at the ceremony. Was she embarrassed about marrying beneath her? The question wouldn’t leave him as he walked on.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lawrence asked, rising from the table where he already sat as Marshall entered The Fox and the Lion.
Marshall shook his head to banish his thoughts and sighed impatiently. “Why does everyone think I look unwell today?” he asked.
“It’s your wedding day,” Lawrence said with a grin. “Any man of sense would look a little green around the gills.”
Marshall started to laugh at his friend’s teasing, but blinked instead at the sight of a small, painfully thin girl sitting hunched in the chair beside the one Lawrence had just stood from. As soon as Lawrence caught Marshall’s look, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“This is Elsie,” he explained. “Matty’s youngest sister.”
“I can see that.” Marshall slid into the chair across the table from Lawrence, studying tiny Elsie with the expertise of a doctor and the heart of a father missing his own, sweet girls. “Have you come along with Lawrence to enjoy a pint?” he asked her.
Elsie seemed to shrink in on herself, pulling her bony knees up to her chest and burying her face against them as though she could hide from the world.
Lawrence blew out a breath and sat. “She won’t leave my side,” he explained. “She hates people. She hides every time a customer comes to the forge, which is more than I can say for Connie.” He let out an ironic laugh and shook his head. “But this one won’t leave my side. Ever.” He sent Marshall a pointed look. “Not even when we go to bed. She insists on sleeping in the bed with us.”
On any other day, Marshall would have teased his friend over the implication. Lawrence was a self-proclaimed hedonist. Having a scrawny girl who couldn’t have been more than five-years-old glued to his side, even in bed, must have severely hampered his relationship with Matty.
“She’s probably still recovering from Hoag’s abuse,” Marshall said, pausing to order a pint and a pie when Ted Folley, the pub owner came over to greet them.
As soon as Ted was gone, Lawrence picked up the conversation where they left off. “Of course it’s because of the way Hoag treated them,” he said. “It’s the same with all of them. Elsie’s the least difficult to manage.”
“Is that so?” Marshall tried to smile at Elsie when she peeked out from behind her knees, but she wasn’t having it. She squeezed herself into a tighter ball. “At least they’re all clean and well-fed now.”
Lawrence let out an ironic laugh. “It was almost better when they were too hungry and exhausted to get into trouble.” When Marshall stared disapprovingly at him, he went on with, “Don’t pass judgment on me until you see what kind of chaos the forge has descended into.”
Lawrence was right. Marshall couldn’t judge the way he transitioned into fatherhood. “You’ll get used to it,” he said. “Most men have time on their side and gain one child at a time. You’ll do fine.”
“Any news about your girls?” Lawrence asked, sparing a sideways look at Elsie.
Marshall sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “No. I’ve been working with Jason’s solicitor, St. Germaine, to see if we can get the court to force Danforth to allow the girls to write to me, but as of yet, the best I’ve got is St. Germaine’s reassurance that he’s seen them and that they’re well. At least, they’re physically well. I can only imagine what state they’re in.”
“I’m sorry,” Lawrence said. “I know you’ll get them back.”
Marshall nodded, wishing he shared his friend’s confidence. “Even if and when I do get them back, nothing will be the same. I haven’t been able to tell them about Alex yet.”
A grin tweaked at the corner of Lawrence’s mouth. “I’m sure they’ll all be thrilled to bits to have a new mother. They like Alex, don’t they?”
“They do,” Marshall admitted. “And Alex likes them. But I anticipate a clash of worlds when they’re all under the same roof together.”
“You’ll be woefully outnumbered,” Lawrence laughed.
“I’m well aware of the fact.”
The conversation was halted when Ted brought their lunch. Marshall hoped Lawrence would drop the subject entirely and ask for advice on being a father, which is what he’d assumed the lunch was all about. As it turned out, he was wrong.
“So are you planning to consummate your marriage tonight?” he asked as they ate, casual as could be.
Marshall nearly choked on his pie. Elsie peeked up at him in concern. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” he answered hoarsely.
Lawrence shrugged. “I know you’ve been wanting to bed Alex for ages now. I don’t know why you haven’t broug
ht it up with her sooner.”
Marshall glared at his friend. Lawrence didn’t need to know just how many times “it’d been brought up” just contemplating the idea of Alex in his bed. But the time was long past for beating around the bush, so to speak. “I’m afraid I’ll make a complete mess of things tonight and ruin any chance I have that things will be easy for us for the rest of our marriage,” he confessed.
“You’ll do fine,” Lawrence laughed. “You were married to Clara for more than a decade, so I assume you know where all the important bits on a woman are.”
Marshall’s face heated to the point where he was afraid his mustache would burst into flames. “I am familiar with the basics of anatomy,” he mumbled.
“So?” Lawrence shrugged. “Use that knowledge to make sure she comes first, and you’ll be fine.”
“Ssh!” Marshall sent an embarrassed, sideways look to Elsie. “There are little ears at the table.”
Lawrence grinned. “She’s five. She won’t know what we’re talking about.”
Marshall arched a brow. “Are you certain of that, given her background?”
Lawrence’s face dropped. “No, actually, I’m not.”
“Then mind your tongue,” Marshall snapped, then ate the last bit of his pie.
“That’s the same advice I’d give to you about tonight,” Lawrence said, his smirk returning.
Marshall made a disgusted noise, but that didn’t stop the pulsing thrill of anticipation that coursed through him. Would Alex let him take those kinds of liberties? “I need to get back to work,” he said, standing and reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He took out enough to pay for his meal. “I’ll see you later at the church?”
“If I can track down everyone, clean them up, and get them there on time,” Lawrence answered, sending a wary look to Elsie. The girl had come out of hiding long enough to devour the Scotch egg Lawrence had ordered for her.
“I’ll see you then,” he said, turning to go. It would likely be the last time he saw any of his friends before his life changed forever, though whether it changed in the best of ways or into a total disaster, remained to be seen.
The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part One Page 3
