Oh. He didn’t know she was there.
Mortified, Ellen stumbled backward silently in her bare feet, leaving the door cracked behind her, and didn’t dare lock it.What if he hears the key in the lock?She dove back in bed, bringing the covers up to her chin. She gasped for breath.I didn’t mean to walk in on that!Ellen had thought they parted angry. Or perhaps she was the only one who left the exchange in a rage? What did he mean,you tie me in knots?
“He doesn’t look at me with contempt,” she whispered aloud. “At least, not completely, not anymore.” Her memory flashed to the scene only a few hours earlier in his study, when he'd so self-mockingly mentioned the irony of thinking she was stupid.
Wasn’t that part of their marriage over, not to be revived? She’d noticed his physique, like how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he took a drink of morning tea, or how broad his shoulders looked as he put on or took off his frock coat each day. How his hands so lovingly stroked the spines of his favorite books. So her body noticed his. Fine. That was normal, considering their history. Expected, even. She’d not thought he would notice hers.
He probably isn’t used to abstinence. Ellen hadn’t thought much about it at all, but now she was faced with Mark’s clearly barely-repressed sexual desires, she’d assumed he would get a mistress. He was good-looking and genial, and some women loved a man in uniform. If a mistress was too expensive, he could always find a regular girl at a high-end bordello along St. James Street. He’d been in the Navy.Maybe heisused to abstinence.How many weeks at a time would he be at sea?She’d heard some of Amelia’s patients mention how lonely men got at sea that even those who wouldn’t typically be attracted to the male form would sometimes seek companionship with one another. For others who only were attracted to other men, perhaps a life at sea was perfectly suited to their tastes.
Did he seek the company of other men?She doubted it. As a stiff, cerebral midshipman with hopes of becoming an officer, there wouldn’t be much opportunity to explore.Did he have a girl in every port?Ellen was shocked to discover the idea gave her stomach cramps.Girls would line up to kiss Mark, if they ever discovered how passionate he is under the surface.She had clearly made some poor decisions after learning how well he kissed. Ellen huffed, her body hot and aching.I wish...I wish he’d kept our vows.She eventually drifted to sleep without ever wondering why she wished that so badly.
Ellen had woken to the gray light of pre-dawn, still discomfited by what she’d accidentally witnessed. She’d donned her heaviest wool clothing, then a dark cloak lined with Welsh flannel, and slipped off to the dispensary.
And now, here she sat, exhausted and confused and wondering how on earth she was supposed to look at Mark again knowing he’d donethatwhile thinking ofher.
Amelia frowned, clearly concerned by Ellen’s hesitation. “Is he treating you badly again?”
Ellen shook her head. “No. He’s treating me well, which confuses me.”
The door opened and Mrs. Daugherty ushered a young, pregnant woman with a baby on her hip through the door. “Slipping this one in early before the rush.” She winked at Amelia and Ellen, shutting the door and resuming her post.
When Amelia and Ellen told Mrs. Daugherty about the latest donations—the murder bottles specifically—she’d just sighed and kept on checking the schedule book. It was such a world-weary sigh, as though she’d experienced similar contempt or self-righteousness over the years that it wasn’t worth getting angry over anymore. She just said, “And this is why I’m glad you two take in the donations yourselves to serve as a buffer.”
This patient, however, didn’t seem to need the social buffer Mrs. Daugherty mentioned. The young Black woman was older than many of their first-time mothers, perhaps twenty-two or so.And her baby had the chubbiest cheeks Ellen had ever seen. She hardly noticed any of that. She took one look at the scratch marks on the backs of the woman’s hands and the way one foot lifted to rub against the calf of her other leg. Dread filled her. “Are you itching?” she demanded, moving toward the woman.
Amelia slipped between them, facing the woman with a smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. And what an adorable baby you have. When’s your second due?”
“I have a midwife,” the woman said in a broad West Country accent. “I’m just here for my rash.” She used her free hand to scratch at her enormous belly.
The knot in Ellen’s stomach eased at the wordrash.
“Let’s get you on the table!” Amelia chirped. She glanced over her shoulder at Ellen. “Why don’t you take the baby back to the waiting area and we’ll let you know when we’re done.”
Numbly, Ellen nodded. She took the fat baby from the mother, twisting her face into a smile. “Come on, darling.” She stumbled out of the exam room. Already four people sat waiting on the benches. Ellen went to the counter and eased the wriggling baby on the countertop. She looked at Mrs. Daugherty, who made a peekaboo face with the baby.
“Not yet walking, is it?” she asked when the baby lurched forward into a crawling position.
“Mmm.” Ellen’s mind whirred. The familiar, stringent smells of Mrs. Daugherty’s medications from the shelves did nothing to calm her, like they usually did.
“Ellen.” The woman set a gentle hand on Ellen’s. “What’s wrong?”
Ellen opened her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears. She fought to keep her grip loose on the baby, despite her instinct to tighten her hands into fists until knuckles whitened.
“Oh.” Mrs. Daugherty looked at her. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you. That was insensitive of me.”
Ellen blinked back her tears and struggled to swallow heremotion back down. Breaking into sobs in the middle of the dispensary would be humiliating. “It’s fine. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” Mrs. Daugherty adjusted her spectacles. “How about I take the little one here, and you go take a moment on the stairs back there. Amelia or I shall come get you when we need you.”
“But I’ve got such a list of babies,” Ellen protested.
Mrs. Daugherty had already taken the baby away from Ellen and was shooing her around the counter and to the curtain that separated the dispensary from the stairs leading up to Amelia’s flat.
Ellen eased down on the fourth step and focused on stilling her trembling fingers. She didn’t know how long she sat there until the curtain whipped back and Amelia’s concerned face appeared in the crack.
“She’s gone. I prescribed her some of Mrs. Daugherty’s lotion, and she’ll use it whenever she starts itching.” Amelia paused. “That was the healthiest, fattest baby I’ve seen in a long time.”
Ellen laughed, fingering the ruffled hem of her skirt. “I forgot they sometimes don’t come out scrawny.”