David stopped walking. “Do…do you find him attractive?”
Catherine turned to face him, hoping to add some levity to combat David’s serious mood. “He certainly isn’t difficult to look at, if that’s what you mean, but I have no intention of making him my prey.”
David’s brows crinkled together. “I see.”
She sighed. “Attraction used to be a ruling force for me, but I…I would not wish such vain, empty affections in my life any more. Of course, I want to be attracted to the man I love, but I also want much more. Friendship, like-mindedness, shared…passions? Something to last much longer than one evening.” She walked up the hallway and opened a narrow door into the former servants’ quarters. When the house was in its grandest era, as many as forty servants kept the home in tip-top shape. Those days were long gone.
“A lifetime friendship?”
She smiled. “Yes, that’s right. A lifetime friendship with…” Warmth blushed into her cheeks. “With a good measure of passion, if God allowed. I might be blind at times, and stubborn, but once I learn a lesson, it sticks.” She took in a breath and cleared her throat. “Now, to the topic of accommodations.”
He approached her slowly, his gaze fixed on hers, probing for something. “Catherine?”
She shivered as his voice rasped and low, caressed her name like he enjoyed saying it. As if it meant something far more than sounds and letters.
“Yes?” Her own whisper echoed back to her, breathless.
He stood, emotions warring through the expressions on his face. His hand came up as if to touch her face, his breath as shallow as hers. A collision of retreat and yearning paralyzed her body. And then… his hand dropped and he released a long breath.
“Thank you for all you’ve done.” He continued to search her face. “I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”
Every fiber of skin on her body stood at erratic attention, but she played the game and shrugged a shoulder in response. “It’s the least I can do for my dearest friend.”
Her heart wrung out the admission. And the man I love.
Chapter Thirteen
Dr. Hudson’s prophecy regarding the next patients proved true. Their wounds came with the greatest severity David had yet seen. His father’s letters from the Front had alluded to such grisly wounds that they caused grown men to turn away.
The gentleman’s war died with the first explosion of chlorine gas.
Dr. Hudson spoke of an incoming surgeon who specialized in reconstruction. He would be given the most gruesome cases on which to operate, but as for the rest… Dr. Hudson and he stood alone. Christopher, as Dr. Hudson asked to be called, encouraged the staff with the news that another doctor and theatre nurse were to arrive within the week.
If they survived the week. Three men had already died in as many days, one from injuries sustained during the Zep attack, the other two of the long-term effects of the gas, a horrid weapon with sustained effects of breathing difficulties, blindness, and possible mental defects.
And his previous concern about Dr. Hudson and Catherine? At the rate they were both working, neither would have opportunity to converse, let alone spend time together. Not that he mistrusted Catherine, but he wasn’t certain about Christopher and his easy smile.
But his skills as a doctor were impeccable.
Still, as David thought back on his conversation with Catherine, the heat simmered beneath his skin afresh. Catherine thought Christopher Hudson attractive. He grimaced. Did she think he was attractive?
“I need some assistance here,” Catherine called, barely keeping a patient from toppling to the floor.
David made eye contact with Jessica as they ran toward her across the ballroom, the glossy floors now littered with bandages and cast-off clothes.
“He ripped off his eye bandages and must have ruptured his sutures. His…his loose eye has come free from its place.” Catherine struggled with the man’s weight as he sank toward unconsciousness, but as he jerked, his hand came up to hit his own face.
He screamed from the impact and blood spattered in all directions, landing across Marianne’s apron. She looked up, pale blue eyes wide before they rolled back in her head and she began a free fall.
“Grab her,” Jessica screamed.
David ran toward her in a vain attempt to catch her head before it slammed against the floor. Dr. Hudson appeared at the doorway behind her, as if by magic, and swooped her into his arms.
He stared down into her face and then looked at David, his usual quirked grin appropriately absent. “Is she wounded?”
David moved over to Catherine, taking the majority of the soldier’s weight. “She must have fainted from the shock. We need get this man to surgery immediately. Can you see to him?”
“Nurse Reynolds has me set for a surgery this moment.” He looked down at Marianne and then back to David.
Catherine struggled with David and the wounded man to the doorway. “You can place her on the chaise in Dr. Ross’ office.”
“Jessica,” David called behind him. “I’ll need both you and Catherine to help with this surgery. Now.”
“What can I do to help?” Annie called from behind them.
“I was re-bandaging Clark and Stephens.” Catherine answered.
“I’ll see to it, miss,” came Annie’s quick reply as they pulled the unconscious man down the hall to the smoking room-turned-second-surgery.
Jessica ran ahead to ready the table, in this case a true mahogany desk which had been re-christened as a suitable operating surface. After a few minutes, the three of them were able to get the bleeding under control and the eye replaced in its sphere. David began tending to one reopened suture while Jessica began re-stitching another, all the while with Catherine handing appropriate tools or cleaning away new blood.
“Are you all right?”
David’s question appeared to surprise Catherine from her focused occupation. “Yes, thank you.”
She smiled in a way that caused his own to respond, but the weariness around her eyes spoke of more. Had she gotten enough sleep? Rested? Nothing about her physical appearance hinted to the life growing in her, but the existence he’d heard it produced exhaustion in the strongest of women.
Jessica cleared her throat and shot him a severe look which he promptly ignored, but of course, his sister was anything if not persistent.
“Aunt Maureen invited me for luncheon last week.”
David almost dropped the tweezers in his hands. “Aunt Maureen? She hasn’t spoken to you since you started your nurse’s training. How many years has that been?”
She paused to pull another suture through and then shot him a grin. “Long enough to know that if she’s inviting me for lunch, she’s desperate for something.”
David returned his focus to the wound at hand. “What did she want?”
Jessica tossed a side-glance to Catherine, and if David wasn’t mistaken, she stifled a grin. “She wanted to introduce me to a young woman who wishes to volunteer at the hospital.”
A flash of warning stilled David’s movements. “And she talked to you instead of me about this?”
Jessica averted her gaze. Not a good sign. “Perhaps she wished to speak freely among women.”
“You’ve always been a horrible liar.” David’s voice ground low. “The lady wouldn’t happen to be single and from an esteemed family, would she?”
“I’m sure I don’t know about her pedigree,” Jessica bit back. “But she seemed very nice and mild-mannered. A perfect lady.”
“I can’t believe you’re joining Aunt Maureen’s ranks.”
“I’m not. But you’re never going to find a wife by staying in this hospital unless a woman comes to you. The choices are rather slim, and certainly not up to your quality.”
She slid Catherine another glance, and Catherine promptly responded with an unaffected eye roll. David almost grinned…if he hadn’t been so angry.
“I will accept anyone who wishes to serve here. Clearly,
we are in need of help.” He sent his sister a narrowed-eyed look. “But only for service to the hospital. Do you understand?”
Jessica ignored his warning. “I think you’ve met her on several occasions at church or one of the very few socials you’ve attended over the past few years. Adelaide Moore?”
David examined his work on the wound before answering. “I have no memory of someone by that name, particularly someone Aunt Maureen wishes as a possible bride.”
“Which speaks for itself,” Catherine muttered, keeping her attention focused on the tools at her disposal.
“What did you say?” Jessica shot back.
“Pardon me. I spoke out of turn,” Catherine answered, offering her most brilliant smile.
“Do you suppose every woman should leave a lasting impression on a man’s heart?”
Catherine kept her gaze and voice low. “She certainly should on the man she’s going to marry.”
She glanced up at him for a moment, long enough to show a hint of humor. Oh, if she only knew the trouble she brought on herself with his sister, she wouldn’t find such wit in her troublemaking. Though he had to fight his own desire to grin.
“Dr. Ross.” Nurse Reynolds stood in the doorway, her expression emotionless. “Dr. Hudson needs you immediately.”
Her monotone contradicted the message, so it took David a moment longer to understand its immediacy. He turned to his sister and Catherine.
“We’ll manage this. Go on.” Jessica waved him away.
“I know what you’re doing.”
Jessica Ross’ threatening tone came as no surprise. Catherine tried to place a positive sheen on the veteran nurse. Well, at least she despised Catherine in front of everyone – no pretense. There was something to be said for consistency.
“I’m devising a very careful scheme to steal your brother’s heart and then run away with his vast fortune.”
Jessica pointed the sewing needle in Catherine’s direction. “He’s not some witless boy you picked up off the streets of Ednesbury. He’s a good man, and though he may not show it, he feels deeply for the people around him…even you.”
“Even me?” Catherine’s laugh held no humor. “How magnanimous of him, and much more than I can say for his sister.”
She leaned close, her green eyes narrowing into sharpened slits. “You haven’t earned magnanimity from me. I know your history, your ill-treatment of your family…and I’m not the one who gave myself to the highest bidder.”
Catherine winced inwardly but refused to back down. “I recognize that I’ve done nothing to garner your trust, but I can honestly tell you I’ve also done nothing to obtain your brother’s attention or affection.” Catherine stood taller, taking the truth and the pain that came with it. “And I would dissuade my brother from a relationship with a woman like me, so I understand your protectiveness. But, unlike you, I also understand second chances.”
Jessica blinked and stepped back. Catherine followed.
“I understand what it’s like to crave approval and love – and to search for it in any place to gain one taste, even a cheap imitation.” She pressed her fist into her chest, aching to communicate the truth to a hard-headed and angry woman. “And I gave up what was most precious to me for a counterfeit because I was desperate and selfish.”
“At least we agree on that.” Jessica retorted, but her gaze didn’t boast as much confidence as before.
“But you know what else?” Her smile grew. “I also know the beauty of forgiveness, of being seen as someone new, and bearing the brunt of my past choices has not only humbled me, but awakened me to the needs of others around me, of those who are searching for the same type of beauty, the same type of forgiveness. And now…now I know exactly where to find the source.”
Jessica shook her head. “You just expect me to believe God’s changed you from the manipulative woman you used to be into some saint within a few months?”
“I’m no saint. I’m as broken as the next person, but I’m aware of my brokenness. Some people never see their own.” Catherine took another step, a flash of heat spiraling through her. “And brokenness is something of which I think you have little experience or you wouldn’t hold your gavel with such fierce judgment.”
“Don’t compare my past with yours, Catherine.”
“Why not?” Catherine shrugged and offered the challenge liberally. “Don’t we believe in the same Gospel? The same Savior? Does he not say all have sinned and fall short of His glory? So, from His perspective, we’re the same. Both broken souls in need of forgiveness and hope. And I know you don’t like being lumped into my category, but perhaps, if you thought more of your needs instead of your self-righteousness, you might recognize what your grace can do to change lives instead of offering lofty platitudes that only inflate the rich minority of women who would rather be seen than serve.” Catherine laughed. “You spout the ideals of women’s rights and yet neglect the fallen women who could benefit from your grace the most.”
Jessica stumbled back against the wall, mouth pinned closed. Catherine took the needle from her hands and slammed it on the table. “What else should a nurse, let alone a Christian, do if not bring hope and healing to the ones who need it most?”
She marched from the room, her head pounding with a fury she hadn’t experienced since Drew Cavanaugh rejected her…right after he’d ruined her. Help me, Lord. I need one moment of solitude to clear my head so I won’t go mad.
“Catherine!”
Her mother’s voice echoed down the long corridor, certain to aggravate some of the resting wounded. Catherine ran to the entrance of the hallway to catch her before she entered further.
“I’m here, Mother.”
Her mother smoothed back her faded golden hair and took a deep breath, shooting Catherine a look of stern disapproval. “I have been trying to find you all morning. Where have you been?”
“I’ve been assisting with surgeries. I’m certain one of the other nurses could have given you my whereabouts.”
“I will not ask these woman I don’t know! And there is one who is with child.”
Catherine squeezed her eyes closed. “Annie, Mother. Her name is Annie.”
“Is one of the wounded her husband?”
“No, Mother.” She decided to skip added drama. “Annie isn’t married.”
Her mother’s complexion deepened to carmine. “Do you mean she’s a…”
“She’s a hardworking woman with whom a man took unprovoked liberties, that is who she is.”
Her mother’s eyes grew wide, and she waved her handkerchief toward the hallway. “And the other one? Is she with child also?”
“No, Mother. Her father was a brothel owner in Lancet.”
“Oh….” Her mother waved the handkerchief like a flag before her face. “My house is being overrun by wounded soldiers, orphaned children, and loose women.”
“They were willing to give an honest day’s work. There is nothing for which to be ashamed or frantic. Our situation is changing, and we have the opportunity to change with it to help others.”
She released a humorless laugh. “You think I don’t realize the world is changing? I was a debutante in society. I had lines of suitors waiting to court me. My family boasted a twenty-seat dining table which remained full and overflowing for each and every dinner party my mother hosted. And now?” Her mother’s voice broke, and she pressed the handkerchief to her face. “Look at me. Barely money to buy beef, in this dilapidated old building filled with dying men and now harlots? It’s too much.”
Catherine grabbed her mother by the shoulders. “Life has thrown us some lumps and we’ve made some of them ourselves, but this is where we are, and we can choose how to spend the days that we have. It’s time to accept where we are now, with what we have now, and pray God helps us change the Dougall reputation.”
“Change our reputation?” Her mother’s voice hardened. “How will we do that when my daughter engages in secret meetings in town?”
<
br /> “How did you know—?”
Her mother pulled a paper from beneath her arm and thrust it into Catherine’s face. The headline brought a cold chill with it.
A Secret Rendezvous? The article flaunted a dramatic story about Catherine engaging in a clandestine meeting with a certain ‘driver’ of Roth Hall. Catherine pressed her eyes closed and released a long stream of air through her nose. Mason.
She took the paper and shook her head, keeping her volume low. The wounded and staff worked only a few doors down the hallway. “I was discreet.”
“You are many things, Catherine, but discreet is rarely one of them.”
Catherine gave the paper back to her mother and snarled. “Mr. Dandy is a vile man who is in the employ of Lady Cavanaugh. His sole purpose is to weasel into the underbelly of Ednesbury and taint the lives of the people who dare stand against her demands. He wishes to ruin us.”
“We don’t need his help with ruining our family name.” Her mother’s words hissed. “Your impulsiveness and lack of propriety does enough on its own.” The handkerchief returned to her mother’s eyes. “Oh, what will we do?”
The sting of her accusation inflamed Catherine to the defense. “Mother, we’re no more ruined than we were before. People will see this for what it is. Smoke and rubbish. It will pass.”
“Haven’t I suffered enough with my reduced circumstances and your father’s death? Must I also bear the brunt of a daughter who continually crosses the boundaries of propriety?”
“Mother,” Catherine warned, glancing down the corridor for eaves droppers. “Not here.”
“Then to carry a child of a man who wouldn’t even pretend to know you now.”
“Mother!”
Her mother buried her face into her handkerchief. “How will we ever rise beyond the trouble you’ve brought on us?”
Catherine took a steadying breath and held in a myriad of wrongs she could easily lay at her mother’s feet. “How will my past stay in the past if people, even my own mother, are constantly reminding me of who I should be rather than who I hope to become?” Her voice pinched to a pained whisper. “I will not yield to your despair, though I am tempted. I will not.”
The Thorn Keeper Page 13
