Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [44]
“Go away,” Sally bellowed.
“Do you want me to stay, Miss Eckles?” Cookie asked Tabitha.
“Please. I need help washing my hands.”
Abigail deposited the cloths on a chair near the bed, and Cookie hefted the copper can over the washbasin.
“Wait.” Tabitha left Sally’s side. “Pour it over my hands.”
Cookie did so. After repeating the process, Tabitha returned to the bed and the wailing girl.
“I’m going to examine you now.” Tabitha lifted the sheet.
Sally snatched it from her. “No.”
“Cookie, will you take her hands, please?”
While Cookie kept the girl from hindering Tabitha, she made a thorough examination, then straightened to look Sally in the eye between contractions.
“The baby is breech. You have to tell me who the father is, or I can’t turn the baby and help you.”
“He’ll die,” Sally sobbed.
Not sure if she meant the baby or the father, Tabitha said, “Then you’ll be responsible.”
The names Sally applied to Tabitha had Cookie’s eyes widening to twice their normal size.
“You hush that,” Cookie scolded. “Where’d a nice girl like you learn such talk?”
“Or end up like this,” Tabitha murmured. She watched as another contraction brought more blood than she liked. “Tell me now, Sally.”
“All right, all right!” Sally screamed.
12
______
“Today’s reading is from the eighteenth chapter of Matthew.” The sonorous quality of the pastor’s voice reached the servants’ gallery without apparent effort. “‘Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?’”
Dominick squirmed on the hard, backless bench. He knew that chapter. One of his Oxford tutors had reminded him of it as Dominick began his campaign. But Dominick, like the forgiven servant, had gone out and forced payment from those who owed him—in a manner of speaking.
Others got hurt because of his hardened heart. No doubt they suffered torment too, possibly worse than his, all because he couldn’t forgive one time, let alone seven or seventy, and claimed his actions were for the good.
How did a man pay a debt when he was locked away? Dominick always wondered how, when someone he knew ended up in debtor’s prison. If he couldn’t work, if he couldn’t oversee his property or investments, he couldn’t earn the money necessary to discharge his debts.
Most of Dominick’s debts weren’t monetary. On the contrary, at the moment he felt more comfortably off than he had since the day his father threw him off of the family estate, broken, bloody, near to penniless. Kendall’s guests proved to be generous with their vales, and he now possessed the equivalent of two pounds, more than enough to go to the fete with Tabitha.
Not enough to discharge his debt to the society of his homeland, to his family, or now to Kendall. What he needed was information, and when those same generous guests had taken up so much of Dominick’s time without divulging a snippet of good information in front of him, he’d gained nothing.
If only he could contact his uncle before June 21. He would admit failure and go to Barbados. At least he would have freedom of a sort there, could come and go as he pleased, could be a guest at the table instead of serving.
Although it might increase his family’s wealth, however, going to Barbados would never redeem him. For that, he must, must, must suffer torment and come out the victor, all debts paid.
He rubbed his palm where the stitches itched. If Tabitha didn’t return soon, he would have Letty remove them, though he’d much prefer Tabitha’s feathery touch against his skin.
Next to him, Letty gave him a poke in the ribs with her elbow, reminding him not to fidget like a schoolboy.
Clamping his hands between his knees, he scanned the congregation. The Trower fellow sat halfway back amidst three females and a man who looked enough like Trower that he must be his father. The women were likely his mother and sisters, again bearing a family resemblance, all tall and stately and pretty. Trower appeared intent upon the sermon. The girls looked disinterested.
Trower. True believer or hypocrite? He’d been ready to fight