“She had triplets a year ago.” Tina scratched her neck. “One died at birth, one died of the croup a few months ago. So she’s got extra milk to spare.”
Before Ellen could respond, the door burst open and Seamus O’Malley stumbled in. Ellen wrinkled her nose, smelling the alcohol on him from across the room.
“Is supper ready, woman?” He glanced between Tina and Ellen. “Who’s this? Doctor Amelia?”
Ellen stood, knowing it was her cue to leave. “No, just Mrs. Glenfall.” She picked up the crutch, which was leaning against the cracked plaster of the wall. “I’ll let you enjoy your evening.”
Three pairs of eyes from the bed watched Ellen leave.
“I don’t see why you invitedherhere. Always sticking her nose in places it doesn’t belong,” O’Malley huffed to his wife.
Ellen shut their door behind her, but his voice still carried through the thin wall.
“Is she telling you to ignore your wifely duties again?”
“Aoife, dear, hold the baby so I can heat up our supper.”
“Do you know how cold it is outside? I worked all day, brushing rich people’s chimneys, and I can’t come home to a hot meal?” A thud, probably O’Malley slapping his hand on the table. “I don’t beat you or the children. And all I ask in return is a wife who keeps house, cooks, and keeps me warm. You don’t even work all day!”
“I know, Seamus.”
Ellen ground her teeth. For someone who didn’t beat his wife or children, he was a nasty man. She wanted to storm back inside and say something, but she knew she couldn’t. Ellen could mouth off to O’Malley all day long, then go home and sleep safe and sound, for she didn’t live with the man. She didn’t have to suffer the consequences, the way Tina and the children did. So instead she walked down the steps and back into the narrow alleyway. Her breath fogged in the air as she trudged to Amelia’s dispensary.
It was easy, oh so easy, to grow discouraged. Surrounded by grinding, wrenching poverty she couldn’t change, babies who died more often than not, men drinking away the wages meant to buy milk for their babies, and so little hope for immediate change. Ellen was as passionate and determined as ever in her work, but the payoff sometimes was so small she couldn’t help but want to hide under her covers for a few days.
Maybe Amelia’s nurse has a point. Maybe I should do more than work. I should probably find something in my life that brings joy.
Ellen rounded the last corner and the dispensary came into view. And on the steps stood not the footman, but Mark. He was bundled up from the cold, a navy great coat and hunter green scarf covering most of him. His bowler hat sat low on his head. When he caught sight of Ellen, his face lit up like a Christmas tree and he started toward her.
Ellen’s lips twitched, and she hurried to meet him. “Let’s go home.” She didn’t even realize she was grinning until they were bundled in a cab.
Chapter Eleven
On Christmas morning Mark eased his wife’s bedroom door open while balancing the tray of hot chocolate. He quietly set it on the little round table, then went and sat on the edge of Ellen’s bed.
“Ellen, darling.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “Wake up, sweetheart. It’s Christmas.”
Ellen jolted awake, sitting up so fast she almost banged into his head. “Did I oversleep?”
Mark laughed. “It’s impossible to oversleep on Christmas.”
“Why are you here? Where’s the maid?”
“It’s Christmas,” Mark repeated patiently, leaving the bed to pick up her cup of hot chocolate. “The servants all left last night, remember? They’re not coming back until after supper.”
Ellen leaned back against her headboard and accepted the steaming cup. She crossed her legs, scooting toward the center of the bed, and patted the empty spot beside her.
Surely grinning like a fool, Mark sat and made himself comfortable halfway down the bed, opposite her. Their knees touched, and an electrical shock went through him. The barest hint of her breasts showed through the thin nightrail.
“I shouldn’t have overslept. I have so much work.” But shesipped her hot chocolate. When she pulled the cup away, she had a thin milk mustache on her upper lip. Mark swallowed hard, wishing to lick it away.
“It’s Christmas,” he said one more time. “No work today.”
“The babies need me,” Ellen tried, but Mark put a hand on her leg. Well, it was over the sheets that covered her leg, but they were warm from her and he nearly sighed in delight at the touch.
“Do they?” he asked gently. “You have run yourself ragged this last week, checking on all the weak babies in the West End, it feels like.”
“The Rawlins baby has an infection I don’t like and needs to be watched carefully.”