The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part One

by Farmer, Merry

  “She looks at you with stars in her eyes,” Alex said as she slipped into her white coat. “Pardon me, eye.”

  “Are you jealous?” Marshall asked with a wink.

  “Not at all.” Alex shrugged. Perhaps it was a tiny bit of a lie.

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Marshall said. He stepped closer to Alex sliding his arms around her, one hand resting on her belly. “You’re the only woman I want to do naughty things with at night.”

  A carnal thrill zipped through Alex’s body, heating her cheeks. Marshall was her friend, her colleague. It still felt wrong to want him the way she did when he teased her that way. But how could it be wrong when he was her husband?

  Because she still couldn’t say she was in love with him, no matter how hard she tried to summon up the same feelings she’d felt for George Fretwell where Marshall was concerned. She twisted in his arms and kissed him anyhow. He deserved that much.

  A light gasp from the door had her leaping away from Marshall before their kiss could deepen. Winnie stood watching them, her one eye wide, color splashing her scarred face. Marshall cleared his throat and headed toward her, sending Alex a mischievous glance over his shoulder.

  “Is there something you need, Winnie?” he asked, turning the corner into the hall, Winnie following him.

  “I sorted the linens yesterday,” Winnie said, her voice quickly fading as she and Marshall walked on.

  Alex let out a breath, pressing a hand to her stomach. She didn’t like showing Marshall affection at the hospital. The hospital was for work and home was for…well, home was for things she shouldn’t even be thinking about at work. Even if they were exciting and innovative.

  She pressed the back of her cold hands to her face to coax her cheeks into cooling and marched out into the hall, then down to the waiting room. There were sick people who needed her, and the sooner she could make them better, the sooner she would feel better about herself and less of a failure in all things that weren’t medical.

  Normal hospital business kept her occupied for most of the morning. Her soul settled, and she actually enjoyed her lunch with Marshall in the hospital’s dining room—which had been the mess hall for dozens of orphans in the days when Marshall, Jason, and Lawrence had grown up there. They discussed the cases in their care without a hint of innuendo, and Alex’s stomach had settled from whatever had aggravated it that morning. Afterward, they went their separate ways, which, for Alex, involved welcoming Flossie to the hospital for her appointment.

  “I’m fairly certain I know what it is,” Flossie told her as she removed her shoes and climbed up to the examination table in one of the smaller, private consultation rooms.

  “You do?” Alex asked. She washed her hands with the basin and pitcher in the corner of the room, then crossed to stand beside the table. She took Flossie’s wrist, found her pulse, and timed it using the watch she kept in the pocket of her white coat. “Your pulse is fine.” She pressed the back of her hand to Flossie’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

  “All of me is fine, I’m sure.” Flossie smiled in a way that reminded Alex of the secret, sunny smiles Marshall had been sending her for days.

  “Then why are you here?” Alex asked, standing back and tilting her head to the side as she studied Flossie.

  “I want you to confirm that I’m pregnant,” Flossie said with a beaming smile.

  “Of course.” Alex burst into a smile herself. “How ridiculously unobservant of me. I’ve been far too distracted lately.”

  Flossie let out an ironic laugh. “I know exactly what that’s like. Running a hotel is far more work than being employed by one.”

  “You’re fortunate that Mr. Throckmorton trusts you to run his business,” Alex said.

  “He trusts me with much more than that,” Flossie replied, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “We deliberately set out to conceive a child, you know. This isn’t an accident.”

  “Oh?” Alex’s brow went up. “Even though Mr. Throckmorton is marrying my cousin?” A twinge of regret bit her at the thought of Elisabeth and the way her family had cut her off.

  Flossie sighed. “That is a long and complicated mess. But yes, we set out to have a child in spite of it.”

  Alex paused to consider that madness. Within moments, she shook her head and launched into action, heading to the cupboards on one side of the room to fetch the instruments she would need for an examination. If there was one thing her time as a physician had taught her, it was that people engaged in all manner of curious activity for reasons that were best left unexplored.

  “I’ll do a simple, internal examination to see if there are signs of pregnancy,” she said, returning to the table. “Lie back, please.” Flossie did as she said, and Alex went about adjusting her skirts and moving her knees apart. “When was your last menstrual cycle?” she asked.

  “Early September,” Flossie said. “I’ve missed it twice now.”

  Alex hummed as she prepared the speculum and lit the small, mirrored lantern that would help her see. Something buzzed in the back of her mind. “You’ve had quite an eventful last few months,” she said, considering how traumatic those months had been for her. She’d missed a cycle herself.

  She paused, blinking, then counting. Time was passing so quickly, and her mind was in a thousand places. When was the last time she’d bled?

  “Is something wrong?” Flossie asked, propping herself up on her elbows and studying Alex through her knees.

  Alex shook her head. “I was just thinking.” Her pulse kicked up to a rapid pace. “What other symptoms have you had?” she asked as she inserted the speculum.

  Flossie sucked in a breath before saying, “All the usual symptoms. Breast tenderness, and I swear they’ve already gotten bigger. I’ve been more tired than usual. A bit more emotional. Oh, and I can’t abide the smell of oranges now.”

  The buzzing at the back of Alex’s mind grew louder. Breakfast had made her queasy on more than one occasion now. Supper too, from time to time. And she was thoroughly exhausted. But that could have easily been because she was attempting to do housework and hospital work. And her crying jag that morning was simply because her mother had returned her letters.

  The speculum was in place, so she moved the lantern to a position that would allow her a clear view of Flossie’s cervix. “I definitely see changes,” she said. “It will be more noticeable in weeks to come, but I think it’s safe to say you are pregnant.”

  “Jason will be thrilled,” Flossie sighed, then giggled.

  Alex withdrew the speculum and jumped up to take it to the basin of water and carbolic acid, and to blow out the lantern. Her hands shook as she worked, though. In her mind, she ticked off the boxes of Flossie’s symptoms, comparing them to her own. Missed menstruation. Exhaustion. Moodiness. Upset stomach. She touched one of her breasts absentmindedly. She’d assumed the tenderness was from the attention Marshall had been giving them at night.

  The truth of the situation hit her in one, horrific blast. Not a night had gone by for the past six weeks when she and Marshall hadn’t made love. Long and luxurious or fast and playful, their bodies had been joined daily since their wedding. She’d worried so furiously about conceiving on the few occasions she’d had George in her bed, but she’d never even dreamed Marshall could impregnate her. How utterly, completely foolish of her.

  “Are you sure something isn’t wrong?” Flossie asked, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the examination table. “You’ve gone pale.”

  “When did you start feeling this way?” Alex asked, her voice hoarse. She leaned against the counter, pressing a hand to her stomach.

  Flossie shrugged. “Maybe a month ago? As I said, we’ve been trying, so I’ve been on the alert, looking for symptoms.” She stared at Alex, her mouth twitching into a grin. “You’ve been married to Marshall for six weeks now, haven’t you?”

  Alex met her eyes, mortified at Flossie’s teasing expression. “I can’t be,” s
he said. “It’s only been six weeks. I don’t…I’m not even….” She couldn’t bring herself to say she didn’t even love Marshall. Guilt gnawed at her, bringing her close to the edge of vomiting.

  Flossie grinned from ear to ear and hopped off the table. “It only takes one time.” She approached Alex, but stopped just short of hugging her. “I take it there’s been more than one time?”

  “We’ve been going at it like rabbits,” Alex sobbed, embarrassed that she would burst into tears in front of Flossie, ashamed to admit that she’d been so wanton to begin with.

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Flossie laughed, hugging Alex at last. “Oh! And if it’s true and you are pregnant, we’ll be going through the whole thing together.”

  Alex tensed, her back snapping straight so fast that Flossie was forced to step back. “He knew,” Alex said, remembering everything Marshall had said to her that morning. He’d implied that she and Flossie would have something to connect over. She held her breath as everything Marshall had said and done in the last few weeks took on a whole new meaning. “He knew,” she repeated, fury lacing her voice.

  “Who knew what?” Flossie asked, touching Alex’s arm. “Marshall?”

  Alex nodded.

  “It makes sense,” Flossie went on with a shrug. “Clara was pregnant four times. Jason told me they lost one baby. He’s also a doctor. He would know the signs.”

  “He didn’t tell me,” Alex said, nursing the anger within her. Everything seemed to come to a head. Her family had rejected her. They would turn their backs on her even further when they learned she’d been impregnated with lightning speed by a middle-class doctor. What little social credit she had with her former friends would be dashed to pieces. She’d be a laughing stock, the object of ribald jokes about the appetites of lower-class men. Their marriage had happened so fast and without any notice to the public, no banns read. Jason had obtained a special license for them. What would people think when it was announced she was with child so quickly after the wedding? They’d say the marriage had been forced to happen because she was already pregnant. She and Marshall had worked closely together for months, after all, and in a building filled with beds and private rooms.

  “Oh, God.” Alex pressed a hand to her stomach, certain she would be sick. “I’m ruined, utterly ruined.”

  “No, you’re not,” Flossie said, perfect sympathy in her eyes. “This is joyous news.”

  She moved to rub Alex’s back, but Alex’s nerves were pulled too taut. She launched forward, dashing toward the door and across the hall to the stairs leading up to the wards. Marshall would answer for this.

  Marshall

  “I can hold that for you,” Winnie said as Marshall set his clipboard on the table beside Mrs. Dryden’s bedside. She’d been following him as he made his rounds through the women’s and children’s wards since lunch, though she’d been pretending to dust the windowsills and empty bedpans.

  “No thank you,” he said, picking up Mrs. Dryden’s wrist to test her pulse. “It’s fine where it is.”

  “I don’t mind,” Winnie said. “You’ve been so kind to me. I’ll do anything for you, anything at all.”

  “That’s all right.” Marshall sent her a tight smile over his shoulder. He’d lost count of Mrs. Dryden’s pulse and had to start over.

  “I could fetch supplies for you, if you’d like,” Winnie went on. “Do you need a listener for her chest?”

  It took Marshall a moment to realize what Winnie was talking about. “Mrs. Dryden’s condition doesn’t require a stethoscope.” He glanced around the room, searching for something to keep the young woman occupied. “It looks as though Jimmy Frost could use a cup of tea. Would you go fetch him one?”

  Winnie burst into a broad smile. “Yes. Anything for you, Dr. Pycroft.” She turned and scurried off as though he were timing her.

  Mrs. Dryden laughed, then winced as the pain from her thrown-out back hit her. “That girl’s in love with you,” she said.

  Marshall chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s just a child. And she knows I’m happily married to Dr. Dyson.” He took up his clipboard to mark a few things on Mrs. Dryden’s record.

  “Marriage never stopped determination like that one has,” Mrs. Dryden warned.

  Marshall smiled at her. “You’re progressing nicely. You should be able to go home tomorrow, as long as the swelling goes down. And I am very happily married to Dr. Dyson, so you’ve no need to worry on that account.”

  Mrs. Dryden smiled at him, patting his hand as it rested on the side of her bed. “It is a treat to watch the way you steal fond looks at Dr. Dyson when she doesn’t know you’re looking.”

  “I can’t help myself,” Marshall admitted with a wink. Though he would have liked to hear that Alex was stealing peeks at him behind his back as well. Every time he’d caught her staring at him in the past six weeks, it was with a bundle of conflicted emotions. Still, she was looking at him, and whenever she noticed him looking back, she smiled.

  He stood and moved on to the next bed, to Miss Graham and her gout.

  “That girl does have it bad for you,” Miss Graham said, one grey eyebrow raised, as Marshall uncovered her feet to check the dressings. “And girls like that can be a nuisance if they’re not set in their place.”

  It took Marshall a moment to realize she was talking about Winnie, not Alex. “Winnifred Everett is harmless,” he said. “She’s likely just flattered that anyone would be kind to her, now that her appearance has been forever changed. She’ll adjust to reality soon enough.”

  “She used to be a beauty, that one,” Mrs. Meeks said from the next bed over. “I saw her in passing on her way to work at the cannery every day. She turned heads. Deliberately, I’m thinking.”

  Miss Graham snorted. “She won’t be a flirt anymore, not with her face ruined. And that’s why you shouldn’t be so nice to her,” she told Marshall. “Your wife is pretty enough without you paying attention to an eager young sprout like Winnie.”

  “My wife is the most beautiful woman in Brynthwaite,” Marshall said with a smile that reached to his heart. She was growing even more beautiful by the day. Whether Alex knew it or not, she was positively glowing these days. It had made him even more ardent when they were alone instead of falling into a routine and growing tired of her, like he had with Clara. He didn’t suppose he would ever tire of making love with Alex, or talking to her or working with her either.

  Although he was growing a bit impatient with her, if he were honest with himself. When was she going to tell him she was pregnant? She must have known for weeks now. She hadn’t had her cycle once since they’d married. If he were a betting man, he’d guess that his little warriors had successfully breached her castle walls within a week of their wedding, perhaps on the wedding night itself. Nothing could have made him happier. Except, perhaps, Alex trusting him enough to tell him.

  “Here you go, Dr. Pycroft.” Winnie rushed back into the room, holding a cup of tea in front of her as though it were the Holy Grail. “Here’s your tea.”

  Marshall stood, turning to her with a lopsided smile. “The tea is for Jimmy, remember?”

  “Oh.” Winnie appeared crestfallen for a moment before brightening again. “I’ll give it to him right away.”

  “Good girl,” Marshall said.

  Winnie broke into a radiant smile. Mrs. Dryden, Miss Graham, and Mrs. Meeks all groaned.

  “You can’t say things like that to her,” Miss Graham whispered. “It will only encourage her.”

  “I don’t mind encouraging her to do a good job,” Marshall said, bending to cover Miss Graham’s legs. “I’ll have Nurse Stephens change those dressings, but you’re healing nicely.”

  The three women shook their heads and clucked. They likely thought Marshall was a fool for ignoring what they saw as a threat, but in no way was he even remotely interested in entertaining any tender or carnal thoughts for anyone other than Alex. Now more than ever. He just wished he could make
her happier.

  “Now, then, Mrs. Meeks. How is your cough today?” he asked as he moved to the next bed.

  His thoughts continued to linger as he examined Mrs. Meeks. Alex wasn’t particularly happy. He’d been acutely aware of that fact from the moment they’d married. He didn’t blame her, though. She was undergoing massive change, both in her personal status and in the larger social world. It was only natural that the stresses placed on her would have an effect. He’d been trying his best to help her forget her troubles when they were alone together, perhaps with a little too much success. A baby would complicate things, but by the time it arrived, his girls would be home, and they would be more than happy to help out. Mary had done more to care for Molly when she was an infant than Clara ever had.

  He had just decided that everything would be all right and that time would heal all wounds when Alex came storming into the room, looking as though all the Furies marched with her. Marshall stood from Mrs. Meek’s bedside, but before he could say anything, Alex glared at him and demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Marshall scooted away from Mrs. Meeks’s bed and crossed to meet her in the middle of the ward. “There’s nothing I haven’t told you,” he said, resting his hands on her arms.

  “Don’t touch me.” She flinched away from him. “That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.”

  Marshall stared at her, utterly baffled. Even if he’d had words, he wouldn’t have had time to speak them. Winnie flew across the room toward them, shouting, “Don’t you dare speak to Dr. Pycroft that way. He’s a good, kind man.”

  Alex pressed her lips together, glaring at Winnie. She raised a shaking hand to rub her forehead.

  Marshall’s gut clenched with worry. “What’s wrong?” he asked, touching her arm again.

  She didn’t yank away this time, but she did hiss, “You know very well what’s wrong.”

  “Leave Dr. Pycroft alone,” Winnie snapped. She grabbed Marshall’s arm and tried to pull him away.

  Marshall shook out of her grip with an irritated sigh. “Not now, Winnie. This is between me and Dr. Dyson.”