Laurie Alice Eakes - [Midwives 01] Page 10

  “If you’re here because you’ve got a grudge against the English,” Dominick drawled, “I’d rather not ruin my uniform by engaging in fisticuffs. Do please allow me to change. And be warned. You’re likely to get powder in your eyes.”

  “It’s words I want to exchange, not blows,” the man said, “if you’ll talk to me.”

  “Of . . . course.” Dominick strolled toward the door, his steps slow, deliberate.

  Ahead of him, the man turned on the heel of a thick-soled boot and marched to the center of the kitchen garden. A man of his brawn didn’t fit in the center of strawberry bushes, but he didn’t seem to notice. He set his hands on his hips and thrust out his jaw.

  Now, in the sunlight, that jaw shone hard and firm beneath lean, bronzed cheeks and a thin mouth. Deep blue eyes met and held Dominick’s gaze without so much as a blink of the stubby, dark lashes.

  Dominick stopped a yard away. “Who are you?”

  “The name’s Raleigh Trower.”

  Dominick waited for more. The name meant nothing to him. The accent sounded too quick to belong to someone native to the region, and too lazy to be British. But that hint of an English accent set Dominick’s senses on high alert.

  “I’m a friend of Tabitha Eckles,” Trower announced. “An old friend.”

  “I expect she has any number of friends.” Dominick’s bored tone hinted at none of the strain tensing every nerve in his body. His hands balled into fists, his left protesting around the cut.

  “We were going to be married,” Trower continued, “until you British stole me off my ship simply because my mother is from Canada.”

  Dominick stiffened his face to stop from reacting to this useful bit of information. Suspicious information, with Trower standing right in front of him, obviously a free man.

  “Ah, the vanishing fiancé,” he murmured.

  Too late, he realized his error. Trower rose on the balls of his feet, and Dominick prepared to block a blow.

  “So it was you.” Trower didn’t strike, but his arm quivered hard enough for Dominick to see how hard the man strove not to. “You were with Tabitha on the beach this morning.”

  Dominick realized now that his danger didn’t lie in Trower’s hamlike fists, it lay in his knowledge.

  “I saw you kiss her.” Trower took a step forward.

  Dominick held his ground. Nothing to do but brazen this out. “Dear me. How crude of me to kiss a lady without ensuring we didn’t have an audience. But it was quite ungentlemanly of you to watch.”

  “Quite ungentlemanly to watch? You talk to me about not being a gentleman, you—you—” Trower spluttered to a halt. A white line formed around his mouth, and he took a deep breath through his nose, a nose that appeared to have been broken and reset with a bit of a list to one side. “Mr. Cherrett, you are a redemptioner. You have no business even talking to Miss Eckles, let alone . . . touching her.”

  “Indeed.” Dominick gave the man a little bow of acknowledgment. “Did she send you to defend her honor?”

  “She didn’t send me—that is . . .” Trower’s gaze slipped away from Dominick’s for the first time, and he flattened his palms against the legs of his breeches. “Tabitha has suffered enough in the past few years. She doesn’t need a roué like you winning her affections and leaving her behind.”

  The softened tone, the sincerity in the other man’s face, nearly undid Dominick’s plans. He struggled to maintain his blasé demeanor.

  “I’d say that decision is hers, Mr. Trower. Now, if that’s all you have to say, I must return to my duties.” He started to turn away.

  Trower shot out a hand and grasped Dominick’s arm. “It’s not all I have to say to you.”

  “Indeed.” Dominick glared at the broad, calloused fingers gripping his forearm.

  He’d never thought of himself as a spindly fellow. On the contrary, he could outrow, outride, outspar the best of his friends. But beneath that brawny hand, Dominick’s arm felt like a sprat in the maw of a shark. In a fight, Dominick doubted he’d come out the winner. But he had words, and they made great weapons.

  “Do tell me what you want before you ruin my coat,” Dominick said on a sigh.

  “If you stay away from Tabitha,” Trower said, “I won’t tell Mayor Kendall you were out during curfew.”

  “How generous of you.” Dominick lifted his eyes to the other man’s. “And if you don’t tell Kendall I was out early this morning, I won’t start asking questions about how a man born in Canada got released from the British Navy in less than two years. If,” he added with a curl of his lips meant to only feign a smile, “the good citizens of this town aren’t harboring a deserter.”

  11

  ______

  Dominick had kissed her, the rogue, the blaggard, the unmitigated reprobate. Brief though it was, Tabitha still felt the pressure of his mouth against hers—warm and soft, though firm—four hours later, as Japheth, following the directions given in the summons, drew up before the Belotes’ house on the outskirts of Norfolk. Instead of the raisins and walnuts she’d eaten to sustain her through the journey, she tasted the tannic edge of strong tea Dominick must have made himself before leaving the house. Instead of the smell of the Chesapeake Bay and spring flowers, she inhaled the heady aroma of sandalwood. His hair, long and loose, had fallen around her face like a silken curtain.

  She’d walked away with her head whirling as though she’d been turned upside down and spun like a child’s toy. Not until she got on the rough track of a road did she realize she should have broken her personal code, going against everything she had been taught and come to believe in herself, and slapped him. She should have left a mark so big and red he would have had a difficult time explaining it to Mayor Kendall. Let every finger mark show so his master would guess that his bondsman had been acting improperly.

  And what about her? Surely she was no better than he. If she hadn’t been gazing up at him as though every word he spoke were important, he wouldn’t have seized the opportunity to take a liberty with her.

  And all the while she sparred and flirted with Dominick Cherrett, her countrymen narrowly escaped capture by the British Navy. And she narrowly missed capture by a British adventurer.

  “You’re the one who thinks you can learn something from him.”

  She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Patience faced her. “Beg pardon, miss?”

  “Thinking aloud.” She glanced at the house. “It looks like no one’s there, but pull around to the stable or barn, Japheth.”

  “Yes, miss.” He turned the horse up a tree-lined lane leading from the road to the stable yard.

  A youth, his hair the color of the straw stuck between his teeth, ambled out of the barn and took the horse’s head. “Go-on-in.” The directive came out as all one word around the makeshift toothpick. He flushed a bit and pulled it out. “I’ll bring your bags in, miss, if your man can take care of the horse.”

  “I can do that.” Japheth jumped down and held up his hands to assist Tabitha then Patience to the ground.

  “I’ll take my satchel.” Tabitha hefted the bag and led the way along a flagstone path to a front door painted as green as the countryside. A knocker in the shape of a pineapple glowed against the wood. She lifted it and let it fall with a resounding bang.

  A slight girl with dusky skin and a red turban opened the door so quickly Tabitha suspected she’d been standing with her hand on the latch.

  “I’m the midwife,” Tabitha announced. “Is anyone at home?”

  “Yes’m.” The girl giggled. “Where would they be going with Miss Sally as big as—”

  “Abigail, let them in,” a strident voice called from another room. “You know better than to chat with the guests.”

  “Yes’m.” The girl bobbed a curtsy and spun on her bare heel. She led the way through an airy hall from which the stairway rose and into a dimly lit parlor. “The midwife, Miz Belote.”

  “Very good.” The speaker rose to an impressive
height and held out her hand. “So good of you to come all this way.”

  “I go where I’m needed.” Tabitha held out her hand to grasp Mrs. Belote’s. She saw a streak of grime across the back of it and returned it to her side. “My apologies, ma’am. Travel is so dirty. Perhaps my companion and I could wash first?”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Belote raised her voice. “Abigail, come show Miss Eckles and her companion to their room and serve her some refreshment.”

  “Yes’m.” The maid reappeared. “Do I set her a place in the dining room with you?”

  “Serve them supper in her room, or the kitchen if they prefer,” Mrs. Belote responded.

  Tabitha’s ears grew hot beneath her hat. She’d been snubbed often. A midwife didn’t rank even as high as a governess to many people, but never so bluntly, and not usually in Seabourne. After all, she’d had breakfast with the mayor. Not as company, but he had invited her to sit and join him.

  Where she should have told him about his recalcitrant bondsman.

  Thoughts of Dominick with his incorrigible spirit lent Tabitha the audacity to stand up to this bossy, arrogant woman. After all, if her daughter was as close to her time as the woman believed, she wasn’t about to send Tabitha away or refuse to pay her for her services. She wanted a midwife from twenty miles’ distance for a reason.

  “Before I eat,” Tabitha said in a cool manner, “I would prefer to meet my patient. Does she live with you, or do she and her husband have a separate house?”

  Mrs. Belote’s entire face turned a color of crimson that clashed with her rather carroty hair. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she managed to speak in a hoarse, halting voice. “My daughter . . . has no . . . husband.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Tabitha bowed her head. She should have guessed that was the reason for sending for a midwife from far away. They didn’t want someone local who would talk.

  “We have a number of ways you and your maid can occupy yourselves before Sally’s time comes.” Mrs. Belote gestured toward the windows shrouded in heavy, dark draperies. “We have outdoor servants, but perhaps you know more about gardening than they seem to.”

  Tabitha exchanged a half-irritated, half-amused glance with Patience. “Quite a bit, ma’am.”

  She understood clearly that she was to make herself useful, rather than amuse herself, sit about resting, and eat their food for nothing.

  If Tabitha prayed anymore, she would have asked the Lord to set the unknown—and unmarried—Miss Sally Belote into labor sooner rather than later.

  If Tabitha had prayed that prayer, she would have been disappointed in the lack of an immediate response. Which was why she didn’t vex herself with praying and expecting answers. God simply didn’t listen to her.

  Nor did any of the Belotes. Tabitha discovered that she was supposed to remain invisible to the family, including the patient she was intended to deliver of a healthy infant—presumably. The girl seemed to be confined to her bedchamber. Mr. Belote owned several coastal trading crafts and spent most of his time cruising from New York to Baltimore to Norfolk. He was home, but Tabitha caught only glimpses of a slight, quiet man with a pinched face that should have been darkened by the sun if he were a typical man of the sea, but which appeared pale. Tabitha suspected he was ill, but she couldn’t treat him if he didn’t request it. Perhaps he used the services of a man in town for himself but not his disgraced daughter.

  So, while Tabitha fretted at being away from home for so long, leaving her patients without a medical person close, and while no doubt her own plants grew weedy, she and Patience worked in the kitchen garden, weeding and harvesting herbs and vegetables. They earned remarks of gratitude from Abigail, the maid of all work, and her mother, Cookie, a chubby, cheerful woman who looked too young to have a daughter of at least sixteen. The women made better companions for meals than Tabitha suspected the Belotes would have.

  Two days into their stay, Tabitha spotted Reverend Downing strolling along the beach, his head bowed and his hands clasped behind his back. Despite grass stains around the hem of her plain gray gown, she straightened her straw hat atop her coiled hair and headed in a path that would intersect the pastor’s out of sight of the house.

  He glanced up at her approach, noisy through the tall sea grass, and smiled. “How good to see you, Tabitha. I arrived a bit ago and am sorry you’re being treated like . . .”

  “One of the slaves?” She shrugged. “Abigail and Cookie are lovely women, and Patience is more my friend than my paid servant. I don’t in the least mind remaining in their company.” She fell into step beside the pastor. “But I’d like to see my patient, examine her to see if she truly is ready to deliver.”

  “She is.” Downing looked out to sea, his face a bit flushed above his stiff collar. “She knows exactly when . . . er . . . it must have occurred, and her mother has calculated from there based on her own experience.”

  “Then she’s probably right. Still . . .” Realizing Downing wasn’t comfortable discussing a female condition with a young woman, she turned to less physical aspects of the situation. “So they sent for you from afar, as they sent for me?”

  “They’re trying to preserve the family honor and hers.” Downing scowled. “I suspect more for the Belote shipping interests than . . . Well, I suppose I shouldn’t speculate on that score.”

  Her own conclusions running along the same lines, Tabitha let the matter drop. “Are they keeping Miss Belote confined?” she asked instead. “Or is she remaining secluded voluntarily?”

  “I’m afraid they’re keeping her confined.” Downing’s jaw hardened. “Mrs. Belote says they will until she tells them who the father is.”

  “They don’t know?” Tabitha’s heart sank. “Sir, you know I have to find out before I can assist with the delivery.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve explained this to Mrs. Belote and to Sally.” He stopped and faced her. “And have been praying.”

  Tabitha said nothing. She kept her face blank.

  “You think that’s useless,” he said.

  “Maybe not for you, sir. For me . . .” She shrugged. “God abandoned me a long time ago.”

  “God never abandons us, Tabitha.” Downing’s voice held a note of sorrow. “But we too easily abandon Him.”

  “I didn’t.” She allowed an edge to sharpen her tone. “I prayed every day for six months for Raleigh to come home. I prayed every day and night and in between for my mother to live.”

  So she wouldn’t have to feel the guilt of her own responsibility for her mother’s illness.

  “I prayed for Grandmomma to be relieved of her pain,” she continued ruthlessly. “And she died.”

  “Where she is free from her pain.” Downing gave her a gentle smile. “And Raleigh came home.”

  “And my mother is dead.” Tabitha’s throat closed. “I had to work instead of getting married like every other girl my age.”

  “But you were experienced enough to take care of Seabourne when the apothecary died so unexpectedly last year.”

  “So I get to tend the hands of impudent bondsmen and deliver other women’s babies while being treated like a redemptioner myself.”

  “And what would have happened had Raleigh gotten his desire to wander after you married? And he’s back now, just as you prayed for, and from what he says so openly that I’m not breaking a confidence, he’s had more than enough of the sea except for fishing.”

  “But I can’t trust him now.” Tabitha turned on her heel and began to stride toward the house.

  Downing easily fell into step beside her. “Can you trust any suitor not to leave you?”

  “Probably not.”

  Which was why she needed to stop waking in the middle of the night with the memory of Dominick’s kiss in her head. On her lips. If any man would leave her, he would. She was nothing more than a diversion, an excuse to be where he shouldn’t be. In four years, he would sail back to England.

  “Then how do you expect to have
the husband and children you want?” Downing cast her a warm smile. “If you can’t trust God, you can’t trust anyone, and if you can’t trust anyone, you can’t enjoy their love.”

  “I trusted God once upon a time.”

  “Good. Then you can trust Him again.”

  “I . . . doubt it.”

  They reached the front door and Tabitha bade good day to the pastor. She wouldn’t go in by the door used for guests again.

  Later that night, while trying to sleep and not see Dominick’s velvety brown eyes every time she closed her lids, she pondered her conversation with the pastor. Perhaps matters were reversed. If she could, for example, trust Raleigh again, she could renew her childhood relationship with the Lord. The best way to trust Raleigh again was to spend more time with him. Of course, that could make it awkward to spend time with Dominick to find out what he was up to, if it was indeed no good for America.

  She would have a bit of extra time on her hands. Summer didn’t see the birth of as many babies. Too many men were gone oystering on the Chesapeake or fishing in the autumn. Spring and autumn proved her busy time due to long winter nights and summer weddings. She could manage two suitors, if suitors they were.

  An unexpected thought crept into her head right before she finally slept—maybe this year she would go to the Midsummer Festival.

  A wholly inhuman shriek woke her. Her feet hit the floor and she had her dress half over her head before her eyes opened. She knew that kind of cry.

  Sally Belote was in labor.

  Unless she was a complete coward or in a weakened condition, she was well along in labor.

  Tabitha took the steps two at a time and followed the cries to the girl’s chamber. For once, the door stood open. Cookie, Abigail, and Mrs. Belote circled the bed, the first two looking like they were praying, the latter wringing her hands.

  Golden-blonde hair soaked with perspiration and blue eyes dull, Sally writhed on the bed.

  “Why didn’t someone call me sooner?” Tabitha demanded.

  “You weren’t needed.” Mrs. Belote turned on Tabitha. “How dare you question my actions?”