"Scalpel."
Elizabeth handed the sharp instrument into her husband's waiting palm. He didn't even bother to glance her way as he took it. She sighed quietly to herself, making sure not to disturb him or his work.
Years ago, when she'd first offered to assist him, it'd been her hope sharing in his interests would bring them closer together. It never occurred to her it might do the total opposite.
She stifled another sigh, and dripped more chloroform on the mask of their unconscious patient. The drops' sweet scent was more aromatic than the vase of fresh flowers in the waiting room of her husband's surgery. It even clung to the air long after the anesthetic was absorbed by the cloth of the mask. Yet unlike flowers, chloroform had the power to allow others to be oblivious as delicate work was done to their bodies. Unlike the scent of flowers, too much of it had the power to kill.
She shifted her weight, and her unborn baby's foot pressed hard against her ribs, as if protesting the smell or the direction of her thoughts. Ignoring the throbbing ache in her lower back, she rubbed her belly, hoping to quiet him or her.
"Lizzie!"
She startled at Robert's bark, the babe giving her a hard kick in response. "Yes?"
"Gauze woman! Can't you see?"
A thin stream of blood glared accusingly at her from where it escaped the patient's abdominal incision. Grabbing one of the small clumps of gauze she'd prepared before the surgery, she quickly sopped up the blood, leaving the area around the incision clear once more.
Despite his original reticence at her request to be allowed to help him at his practice, Robert had indulged her and let her try to prove she could be useful to him in his work. How ecstatic she'd been! For the benefit of their happiness and their marriage, she'd neglected her social obligations, studied as hard as she could, and pushed herself past the varied odors and the grisly sights his work often exposed her to. For him, she'd accepted ridicule and scorn from her high ranking peers, sure the rewards would make it all worthwhile.
She now understood so much more about muscles, bones, blood, heart, lungs, and all the other bizarre pieces that formed what God had made. What God had allowed to be made inside her. Yet despite all her efforts, matters hadn't gone exactly as she hoped.
"Clamp." The hand twisted in her direction with the palm up, expectant. Elizabeth handed over the requested tool, fighting not to let her spirits drop as Robert once more didn't acknowledge her in any way.
Even as she came to understand the wonders and the pitfalls of Robert's world, as her admiration and love for him grew as he donated time and resources to those less fortunate, he'd pulled away from her. Her new skills and knowledge taken for granted and as his due rather than as her achievements, getting her treated as if she were no more than a new maid.
She caressed her swollen abdomen, the boy or girl inside her last hope to bring them closer together. If nothing else, it would give her a chance to shower with affection someone who'd love her back, without judgment or expectations.
"There's the bloody bugger."
Elizabeth pushed the instrument table closer, knowing even simple surgeries could get complicated at a moment's notice. Her husband's sure hands did their work, even as he barked commands at her in quick succession.
She'd just wiped away some fluid from where he was closing the original incision when a sharp pain stabbed her from back to front.
"Ro— Robert... Something's wrong."
"What are you talking about, Lizzie? The appendectomy went flawlessly."
The pain spiked, and then spread like acid through her system. "Help me."
The look of shock on his face as he finally turned to look at her brought her a momentary flash of satisfaction and was the last thing she saw before her legs gave out and she dropped to the floor.
* * * *
"Does she know?"
Elizabeth opened her eyes, confusion fluttering about in her mind like a moth over a flame. Something wasn't right. She wasn't where she should be. Though where that actually was, she couldn't quite remember.
"No. The poor thing hasn't awakened yet."
She was in bed, despite the fact bright sunlight flooded over her from a tall window. It wasn't her bed, though, and it was terribly narrow. The stark white sheets should be paisley and soft as silk instead of rough and smelling of disinfectant.
"She'll be devastated."
Elizabeth frowned. Not at the words, which dribbled like background noise into her consciousness, but at the blue framed privacy screen with more starched white fabric. It meant something, of that she was sure. If only her head would stop pounding, she might be able to figure out what.
"Charity for charity's sake is one thing, but we both know at times 'charity' has had nothing to do with it."
Those voices... She knew them, didn't she? From the hospital?
"Ada, Judith, I think you both have better things to do than stand around gossiping." The deep tone of disapproval dampened the air.
"Yes, doctor."
"Of course, doctor."
Hurried footsteps echoed off the stone floor until they were gone. Only once there was silence did someone shift the screen to enter.
"Lady Stainton?"
After a drawn out moment, she realized the question had been aimed at her. "Dr. Benley?" Her tongue felt swollen, making it difficult to speak. Her headache and confusion, though, had eased. Yet as he extended the screen back again to give them privacy, she felt a stab of foreboding.
It doubled when he pulled over a chair and sat beside her bed.
"My dear..." He took her hand to hold between his own. His mustache jiggled as he struggled for words. "Be assured that you're quite all right. A few days of bedrest and some medicine will have you right as rain." His sad smile told her there was more, a lot more.
She wanted to ask. She needed to ask. But she dared not. The hollow, empty feeling rising from the dull ache in her midriff told her it would not be to her liking.
"I am very sorry, Lady Stainton. We did all we could, but..." He set her hand back on the bed, as if distancing himself from the failure.
Elizabeth couldn't see him anymore. Her eyes burned as she tried to hold back showing any emotion. A harsh, scathing wind blew inside her ears, though there was no breeze. She would have called him Henry, if the baby had been a boy. Henrietta, if a girl. But now it would be neither.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying hard to focus, to pay attention, to push the rising pain to the side, because she had to know why. There had to be a reason for this. "Every, everything was going well. What happened?"
Benley looked away, rubbing the heels of his hands on his trousers. "Unexpected complications, my dear. Unexpected... complications..."
He stood as if to leave.
"What does that mean?" She couldn't bring herself to say the other words. Tell me why I lost my baby?
"Later perhaps. When you've rested." He nodded as if she'd already agreed to it. "You've been through a great ordeal. So you need to concentrate on healing right now. There'll be plenty of time for details later. Yes, later."
Before she could rally and question him further, he half bowed and departed, leaving her trapped behind her wall of screens. From the speed of his departure, later might be a long time coming.
* * * *
"Dear, you have to eat something. Don't you want to get better?" Ada once more offered a spoonful of porridge.
Propped up with hard pillows, Elizabeth could sit at an angle. Millie, her personal maid, had come by earlier and brought her a proper dressing gown as well as a brush and pins. The proprieties must be maintained despite the tragedy. She knew Robert would expect it. And it was the only armor left to her at present.
Chastised, she opened her mouth to take the offered food, though she wasn't hungry and felt mortified to be treated like a child. A child...
Elizabeth's eyes teared up but she refused to be embarrassed further by her own weakness.
"Has he been to see you yet?" The nurse's eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"To whom do you refer?" She suspected, but she wouldn't help feed the rumor mill any more than necessary.
"Lord Stainton, your husband."
Elizabeth refused to meet her gaze. "I've been sleeping a lot, but I am sure he's come. He wouldn't wake me, knowing I need the rest."
Ada's eyes widened with feigned surprise. "Oh, that could be it, couldn't it?" She fed Elizabeth another spoonful.
"He's a very busy man." Elizabeth wanted to bite her own tongue, knowing the excuse for what it was, and well aware the nurse did as well. "I've had enough, thank you."
"Are you sure, dear?" Ada leaned forward as if to feed her again, except she left the spoon in the bowl. She stared intently at Elizabeth, her next words voiced in a whisper. "There are things you should know that you've not been told."
Elizabeth's eye twitched. The hollow hole inside her pulsed with need and apprehension. She presumed Benley was receiving news of her condition from the nurses as well as using them to pass on his orders.
Her gently worded requests for him to visit were just as gently denied. The suspicion something was being hidden from her had hardened into solid fact. Yet she still possessed no information.
To be forced to gain it from the likes of Ada... Everything that ever poured from the woman's mouth was suspect. She'd watched her long enough to learn that much.
But how else was she to even glean a hint as to what was being kept from her? "Is that so?"
Ada leaned forward a little more. "I could get in trouble sharing what I know." The nurse smiled at her, expectation tightening the lines on her face. "But a token, a valuable token, would go a long way toward easing my concerns. Think of it as a bit of charity to someone less fortunate than yourself."
Charity? Extortion was more like it. Elizabeth wanted to grab her bowl and shove its contents in the old hag's face. Yet something in the back of her mind niggled at the word. It had been used in her presence recently... "I might have something at home which would satisfy you. I'll have it brought for the morrow."
Ada stood up to go. "My old heart bleeds with gratitude, milady. I'll be sure to tell you all I know, once your charity has been received."
Elizabeth clutched her blanket until her hands went numb, sure the nurse was laughing at her as she bowed her way out.
* * * *
Sleep wouldn't come, despite her desperate need for rest. Even when she managed to drift off, it was never for long. What few dreams she had were strangely cruel. She saw a happy, healthy, round-faced little imp playing with his father, smiling at Robert, who smiled back, like he'd done when he'd courted her all those years ago. Then she'd wake; the taste of happiness still on her tongue and quickly turning into ash.
So she stayed awake, closing her eyes and trying her hardest to think of nothing. If a nurse came to check on her, she didn't move, didn't react, dreading what other offers or mysterious bait the other nurses might decide to try to tantalize her with, to prey on her in her time of pain.
She'd given Millie explicit orders on what to bring. The lie that she wanted to look her best for Robert had fallen easily enough from her lips. The pity and sadness on her maid's face had done the rest. Elizabeth planned to use one of her few heirlooms, one which had belonged to her mother. Something Robert would never inquire after or expect her to wear in the few social functions they attended.
If Ada played her false, it would also give her an avenue to implicate the woman in theft if she so wished. She'd teach the vile creature not to toy with the emotions of the patients. But if the woman were true to her word, she'd be able to excuse the loss to Millie and it would never come to Robert's attention.
Aside from the occasional moan of unseen patients or the tapping footsteps of the nurses doing their rounds, the evening was still. So she was surprised when she heard muted footsteps stop outside her privacy screens. Who could it be? The steps were not those of the nurses' shoes. Had Robert finally deigned to check on her? The sting and the heat of the thought surprised her, but made it burn no less.
As the visitor moved the screens and came forward, Elizabeth opened her eyes. "Dr. Benley!"
The short man jerked back. Something glinted in his hand. "La-Lady Stainton. You're awake."
His mustache quivered in equal admonition and despair, as if she were an incorrigible, errant child. The heat inside her turned into a cold flame.
"What is in your hand, doctor? Is that a syringe?"
He jerked again, his hand automatically hiding behind his back. A moment later, he sighed deeply and brought it back where she could see. "Yes. And it's for you." He came forward. "So if you'll allow it, I will administer it and then leave you to your sleep."
"What's in it? Why do I need it?"
Benley wouldn't meet her gaze. "Please, Lady Stainton. It's bad enough you've caught me skulking, must you also press me for details?"
She pursed her lips and just stared at him, unwilling to give him an easy way out.
His mustache quaked, and then drooped; his shoulders slumped in defeat. "It is a light mixture of mercury and a couple of other things. It will help fight the disease."
"Disease? What disease?"
Benley blanched. "Err, truly, Lady Stainton, I cannot speak of this with you. I'm terribly sorry, I know it is horribly unfair, but I just cannot. Please try to understand my position in this matter."
It had something to do with Robert. Why else would Benley be in such a state? But it made no sense. A disease had taken her child? What disease? She'd not felt ill recently, except for the usual things one might expect with a pregnancy. So then what...?
"Please, Lady Stainton." His mustache trembled with his distress.
She nodded, having much to think about and pretty sure Benley would tell her nothing more. And she had other means at her disposal to gain information, did she not?
Elizabeth barely felt the sting of the needle as it pierced her skin. What was this minor discomfort to the wound in her soul? But a disease? She'd lost her child due to a disease? How could that be?
* * * *
"Lizzie."
Elizabeth jumped, not having heard her husband move the privacy screen. She'd been too absorbed going over the odd events of the previous evening. Millie had already helped her with her toiletries, so she was presentable. And the heirloom for today's distasteful dealings lay hidden beneath her pillows and within easy reach.
"Robert..." Happiness welled at seeing him, but the yawing sadness she'd been fighting to ignore and the guilt for what had happened drowned it before it was more than a twinkle. She could read nothing in his closed expression. It was the same neutral countenance he used with terminal patients.
"Millie, please leave us for a time." He didn't glance at her maid, his posture giving the impression she'd best not think of disobeying.
"Of course, milord." Millie curtsied and rushed from the enclosed space as if she was more than pleased to be anywhere else.
"I hear you've been causing Dr. Benley a bit of trouble." Disapproval poured from him in waves. "We cannot have that."
Elizabeth stared at him in unveiled astonishment. "But Robert—"
"No excuses!" He loomed over her. "You've done quite enough to disrupt our lives already."
The shock of his words, of how he'd encapsulated her loss, their loss, to a simple disruption, stabbed her deeply, so deeply her control slipped and tears welled in her eyes. They'd lost their child! Their future! And this was all that tragedy meant to him? A disruption?
"Lizzie, please. Must you get emotional?" His disdain slapped her hard, tearing at what little control she'd been able to seize.
"But Robert..."
"This needs to be kept quiet. It was bad enough when I indulged you by letting you help with the work. Worse, when I believed you when you insisted you were all right to continue, even after your pregnancy became evident. But look where all that has brought us."
Who was this man? Where had her Robert gone?
"The loss of our child is disaster enough, but the fact you'll be unable to give me any progeny whatsoever..."
For a moment, Elizabeth forgot to breathe. "I...I don't understand..."
Her head throbbed violently. Everything closed in around her. Robert's scowling face grew until it seemed to dominate everything.
"Really, Elizabeth. Need I be any more clear?"
She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut until it hurt.
"Very well..." His impatient sigh echoed all around her. "You can no longer have children. You are no longer capable of giving me an heir."
Each word was like a cut to her soul. This was so much worse than she'd imagined. She wanted to howl, to scream her misery, but he would never stand for such embarrassment, so she fought to hold it in. She bent forward to hide her face from him.
"But all is not lost, Lizzie." His tone softened. "I will not abandon you."
Her breath hitched in her throat, the words and the momentary touch to her head an unexpected, soothing balm.
"Solutions will present themselves. And to take full advantage of them, the depth of our catastrophe must be kept secret. We must not have scandal or have our honor tainted. Do not question, do not seek answers. Remember, you have no family, and because of your inability, your...your future is now solely dependent on my generosity, and mine alone."
She sensed when he left, a different type of void settling around her. Only then did she turn and bury her face into the pillows and soundlessly screamed and wept at the unexpected monumental loss.
* * * *
Elizabeth stared at the starch white of the privacy screen yet didn't see it.
No children. There would never be any children. Why hadn't they told her? Was it connected to the disease Benley would not speak of?
She'd been careful. She'd followed all the known practices, knew her family history and how her mother's pregnancies had gone and thus learned what to expect. From the work at the surgery, she knew women in the lower classes could work almost to term without incurring further difficulties. So why had she not been able to do the same? Why had she lost everything in what seemed the blink of an eye?
Why?
Her throat threatened to close and her eyes burned because she had no more tears to shed.
Robert's generosity still overwhelmed her, the one bright spot in the devastation. Divorce was not done. If there was sufficient cause and money, however, it was not out of the realm of possibility. And he had cause, as she no longer had anything to contribute to the Stainton line.
Aside from her few heirlooms and a small patch of land bequeathed to her in her father's will, she owned nothing. She might have enough to survive, but that was all. Society already thought her unsuitable. What would they think of her if Robert decided to divorce her?
But Robert had said he wouldn't abandon her. He wouldn't discard her as they did the organs they removed from their patients at the surgery, or the cadavers at the medical school.
All she had to do was not care. Not question. Despite her unnecessary education making her mind scream continuous facts into her head, facts that did not add together. She'd become diseased despite her efforts to be healthy for their child. But how? And she was so desperate to find this elusive reason. She must find it, because if she couldn't, her loss, Robert's loss, the destruction of all her hopes and dreams, would be her fault.
"Lady Stainton, might I enter?"
Elizabeth dully recognized the voice, yet felt nothing at Ada's impertinence as she moved the screen to enter the makeshift room without waiting for an answer.
"Oh goodness, you're looking a little pale today, milady. Is all not well?"
Elizabeth stared at the screens not wanting to look at the woman's face. If she glanced at the nurse and saw her expression as anything other than concerned and contrite, Elizabeth wasn't sure she could keep from launching herself at the woman and clawing her eyes out. Ada, like the other nurses, were probably only too aware of the loss of her child and her inability to ever try to have another again. "As if you care."
Ada sidled closer.
"You wound me! Why else would I be risking my livelihood to tell you of what is being kept from you, if I didn't care?"
Despicable vulture. Harpy. Commoner. "Why? Because of the sole thing your kind always covets. Money." The acidic sweetness poured onto the words escaped before she could stop it.
The nurse sighed. "It would look like that wouldn't it? And normally, you would be right." Ada chuckled softly. "But we have watched you, Lady Stainton. You're not like the others."
That caught her off guard. "I beg your pardon?"
Ada dragged over the chair and sat down. "I've known many doctors over the years. We all have. And every one of them came from upstanding families, or married into them. But aside from a function here or there, we don't see their wives, let alone ever speak to them. Every one of them only worries about fashion, their social standin', or how others see them.
"But you, you came and learned. You help, you even listen to what we say and believe we actually know somethin'. You've done more than any wife of your breeding would, even more than we would do if we were ladies like yourself." Ada's gaze locked with hers. "If only he were worthy of your efforts."
"What are you talking about?" She reached beneath the pillows for the heirloom, squeezing it until the pin bit into her hand.
"Syphilis, Lady Stainton. Syphilis."
Elizabeth felt her mouth go dry, her mind reeling. A venereal disease? Surely not! Yet the standard form of treatment involved mercury or at times arsenic, did it not? Even sulphur. And Benley's shot had contained at least one of these, if not all three. Her face grew flushed. "How can you, how can you say that to me? How could I have contracted it? I've never been anything but faithful to my husband!"
"Milady, milady, please!" Ada made quick shushing noises. "That's not what I'm saying. Your virtue is beyond reproach."
Elizabeth looked away, panting after the all-consuming flash of hate. Still, how could she have contracted the disease? She'd been very careful, at both the surgery and the local hospital. Although Robert had put his foot down, prohibiting her from helping him at the charity hospital in Whitechapel. That side of the city had been sliding into decline for some time. Robert went there to help those less fortunate or to give lectures to budding students at the increasingly prestigious medical school also housed there.
Might Robert have contracted the disease while helping the poor? Though conversations over such diseases had made her embarrassed and terribly uncomfortable, the texts had been much easier to work through. If she recalled correctly, there were signs during the infectious stage of Syphilis, but not always. Still, Robert was so fastidious. To believe he would have allowed contact of fluids from a sick person to invade him in any way... Plus he'd said the fault was hers.
Something had to make sense sooner or later.
Elizabeth opened her coiled fist and ignoring the drops of blood that fell to stain her sheets, she placed the Colonna gold-enshrouded pearl pin by the nurse's knee. "Just tell me what you have to say. All at once. I will not interrupt. I'm tired of this dance."
"As you wish." Ada reached out and quickly grabbed the offered object, tucking it out of sight in a pocket of her apron.
"The number of unfortunates coming into the city keep growing every year. Even with expansions, the hospitals have more of the poor in need than they can care for. The free dispensaries can't keep up with demand. So there's a lottery that's been put in place."
Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask what this had to do with anything, then closed it, determined not to have this woman see her break her word so easily.
"The world being the equal place for all that it is... There are rumors of ways to possibly have your number drawn sooner rather than later. Whether true or not, there are those who've taken advantage of having charity presented to them in exchange for favors." Ada's voice dropped so low Elizabeth was forced to lean in to hear.
"Dr. Benley is not one of these men. But he is forced to keep their secret as they are his betters." Ada took a deep breath. "Of Lord Stainton the same cannot be said."
As silence settled between them, Elizabeth tried to understand what she'd just been told. She knew what the words meant, but like everything else before, it made no sense whatsoever. She'd have to swallow her pride if she wished to be able to puzzle this out at all.
"Ada, you might think me simple minded, but I don't understand what you're telling me. What possible favors could a poor patient supply to my husband that he would actually want?"
The nurse hesitated. "Dear, it is such naiveté that's endeared you to us so. Yet it is the very thing that has allowed what's happened to come to pass. And why we were never brave enough to speak of it before this. It was our hope you would never need to know."
Despite all she thought about this woman, Elizabeth believed her. The pity reflecting in Ada's eyes said it all. And it worried her. She nodded, acknowledging the nurse's words and bidding her to go on.
"There are rules governing all proper ladies, are there not? Chastity until marriage. Forming a union with the primary purpose of maintaining the household and making children. Your fortunes and most property falling under the ownership of the husband after marriage.
"You're told coupling is a necessary evil, not something for enjoyment or for lingering, as then might it not appear to be a sin? But if enjoyment is not possible for the wife, what is a husband to do? For surely someone who mutually participates, rather than lay there purely for the making of little lords and ladies, would be more exciting, would they not?"
Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow warm, the words coming from Ada's mouth too vulgar to ever be contemplated. Yet there was some truth there. Had her mother not confided that the act was more a chore than anything else? God had made them as he had, but never was there to be enjoyment. The act was to be purely a means to ensure the future of the family. And yet... There'd been conversations she'd overheard, giggles and whispers she'd dismissed out of hand or hadn't understood. But what if there was more? What if this explained why middle class men were accused of philandering before actually being married? What if marriage itself left the men wanting? Had her very own Robert fallen to temptation?
"So you're saying Lord Stainton is responsible?" Elizabeth shook her head. "Even if I believe this for one moment, wouldn't he have known better? Wouldn't he have taken care of it, rather than risk passing it on to me?"
But she'd begged him, hadn't she? Begged him last Christmas for them to try again, so she could do her duty by him and give him a child, thus helping to insure the Stainton line. Except that hadn't been the only reason, had it? Poor, selfish Lizzie, already realizing her original gambit had backfired. She'd been looking for something else to fill her life, hadn't she? A child would solve everything. A child would bring her Robert's love, and if not, at least someone for her to care for without restraint. Except it hadn't quite turned out that way had it?
"Never mind. Thank you, Ada. I believe you've done as you said you would. You may take my 'charity' and leave me now."
"Will you be all right alone, milady?"
A bark of a laugh echoed in the space and it had come from her. "I'll be fine. Do not worry yourself."
She purposely did not look at the nurse as the woman took her hesitant leave.
The nagging wife. It was so very laughable. She'd forced him into this.
Another barking laugh escaped her mouth. As if she'd ever been able to force Robert into anything he truly didn't want to do. It would absolve him entirely to think of it that way though wouldn't it? As if not telling her she might be infected did not matter in the least.
Lizzie laughed again. And this time, she had a very hard time stopping.
* * * *
She was finally deemed fit enough to leave. Though she'd only seen him two other times since the incident, her husband graced her with his presence to take her home.
She'd asked no more questions of Benley, so there'd been no need of any other stern conversations about not asking questions. Robert seemed quite pleased she'd done as he'd asked, even going out of his way to help her up into the carriage and making sure she was comfortable. He'd not paid her this much attention since he'd courted and won her almost seven years ago.
Though at any other time she would have taken these as signs of hope and progress, she shied from doing so today. Despite Ada's revelations and her own correlations of the facts, she didn't know for sure if Robert had known about his condition before he lay with her, yet there was still a chance. She just couldn't quite bring herself to believe he'd been seeking "favors" from the poor women at Whitechapel Hospital. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Because the ache inside her ran so deep, she could barely breathe. One more brick and she wasn't sure she'd survive.
Regardless of how it came to pass, she was still at the mercy of his indulgence. The law would side with him. She would be bereft of house, home, and name if he so chose. So if she could not give him children, perhaps she could try to find out how to give him the other things he sought.
Surely there must be a way for her to make inquiries. She would just swallow her pride and distaste and see what she might learn. See what could be saved.
The familiar rocking of the carriage, Robert's near presence, and having something to strive toward made her feel as if she were making progress. Going forward and the work at the surgery and the hospital were all she had left.
The door to their home opened before the carriage rocked to a full stop. The household staff poured out, the women standing to the right and the men to the left, to greet their mistress home. Mrs. Aimstrong even had a tolerant smile for her, assuring Elizabeth without words that at least at home all was as it should be, so she had naught to worry about in that regard.
It was good to know some things remained unchanged.
Millie hovered protectively over her that evening as she helped Elizabeth get ready for dinner. A new gown and even jewelry awaited her, the room filled almost to overflowing with fresh flowers. At any other point in her life Elizabeth would have been thrilled at the attention Robert seemed to be showering upon her. But with her child gone, and the ugly possibilities surrounding her on how and why her miscarriage had come to pass, she couldn't feel much of anything.
Still, she went through the motions, allowing Millie's chatter to fill the air as she worked hard to make her mistress presentable.
As Elizabeth started down the stairs, she found Robert waiting for her at the landing, another gift he'd not regaled her with in years. Again, she felt almost nothing, though a kernel of apprehension jabbed at her insides. Robert hadn't felt the need to baby her or ingratiate himself to her in any way for the last few years, not even during her time at the hospital, so why had he become so solicitous now?
The scents from the dining room wove around her as he parted the doors, many of her favorite scents begging for her attention. This caused the kernel inside her to sprout sharp spears. Surely God would not be so cruel as to dump another catastrophe in her lap. Not so soon after...
Robert pulled her chair out, having had the servants lay her plate setting next to the head of the table, rather than at the foot. Growing ever more nervous, she could catch no hint of coming doom from any of the servants. They looked pleased just to see them together again.
What little appetite she'd had to begin with dried up as if it had never been. The abyss at the pit of her stomach dropped to new depths. He was up to something; there was no denying it. But what? What else could be taken from her?
For the sake of appearances, she forced herself to eat at least enough to satisfy the staff's watchful eyes. Robert usually discouraged small talk at dinner, so keeping silent took no effort at all.
Once the dishes were cleared away, Robert took her hand. Elizabeth was so surprised, she almost yanked it back.
"Will you come to the study with me? I'd like a drink and there's something the two of us should discuss."
She nodded once then looked away, dread closing in on her like the spikes inside an iron maiden.
Robert's study—his inner sanctum—was all dark woods and smelled of tung oil and cigar smoke. How many times had she snuck inside, curled her feet up on his chair, and breathed in his world, feeling like a guilty child sneaking off to wear her parents' shoes or makeup?
The study held the proof of Robert's education, of his achievements in his field and of his rank. It embodied the power of men to make their way in the world. A place where he could broaden his mind and keep it entertained.
The one unexpected benefit of her plan to help Robert with his work: she too had broadened her mind. She'd been able to fill her life with more than making fancy embroidery, ordering the servants about, worrying about fashion, or trading gossip with her peers.
He seated her on the settee closest to the desk, and then served her a finger of brandy, as if she were one of his colleagues. The gentlemen removing themselves from the ladies for an after dinner drink.
"Go on. Take a sip."
Elizabeth did as ordered. The taste of the spirit was heavy and sharp, not at all what she expected. The resulting heat in her throat and mostly empty stomach were the most pleasant things she'd felt all day.
Robert swished the amber liquid in the large brandy glass a moment before quaffing it away and serving himself another.
"Lizzie... I know the past weeks have not been easy on you. Your recuperation slowed due to unexpected factors...
"Mistakes were made. Mistakes that can't be fixed." He stared at his books, his desk, gesturing with his drink filled hand, as if buoying himself with his own words. "We must reconcile ourselves to that. We must carry on. And in order to do that, some changes must be made."
Elizabeth's hands shook, jiggling the alcohol still left in her glass. She waited for whatever new catastrophe awaited her. That Robert was working himself up to deliver the blow couldn't have been more obvious. If she could have managed to make her legs work, she would have run from the room.
"Your services as a nurse will no longer be required."
She went cold all over, flushed with heat, then went cold again. "You... You would take this from me as well?"
Robert paled, his eyes narrowing at her choice of words. After taking a drink, he began pacing. He held a finger up for each point as it was made, as if reading from a list.
"First, you're still recovering, and to make sure you recover fully, it'd be best not to tax you with these unnecessary duties. Becoming well should be your first priority, so you'll be ready for when the opportunity arises to make things right.
"Second, many will likely point out that working as you've been, as if you were a commoner, probably had much to do with your unfortunate illness. Showing contrition by returning to your expected duties as a high born will do much to hush those comments in future.
"Third, while you can speak of the loss of our child, you are not to share the fact you are now barren. While a great disappointment, we can't allow others to know of it. But don't worry, I'll think of something, and everything will once more be as it should be."
He turned towards her as if expecting her to drop to her knees showering him in accolades. When she only sat there and did nothing, a small frown gathered at his brow. "You do understand this is for the best?"
"Yes, Robert." She felt feverish, a storm raging inside her.
She understood it all very well. She understood her husband didn't love her or know her at all. But she would make sure she understood him very well. And then, then they would see.
"I am so very glad to hear it."
* * * *
When one felt nothing, pretending came easy. Having a deep fire inside to keep one on course made it easier still.
Saddled with great amounts of idle time, Elizabeth did as Robert suggested and immersed herself back into society. Though gossip hadn't previously been something she indulged in, she encouraged the best and the worst of her social circle to shower her with all the tidbits they had to give.
She also visited the hospital and Robert's surgery once a week, ignoring the pang of loss at not being able to help, at being denied a purpose instead of whiling the days away in frivolous pursuits. Without the knowledge she'd gained to work there, she would have never known anything was amiss at all and would have piled all the guilt on herself rather than where it truly belonged. The excuses for her presence were simple things: delivery of a book on medicine she thought Robert would find interesting, flowers from their garden she thought would cheer up the waiting room for the surgery, or just wanting to see him to say hello on her way to her next stop for the day.
What she really went there for was to talk to Ada, to ply her with more monetary "charity" so she could find out her husband's routine, or to get new whispers of what he might be doing, or to check on the status of old patients. It surprised her that it was a relief to spend time with the nurse, for with Ada, there was no need of pretense, or holding up the lie that she didn't miss working at all.
Elizabeth did nothing too untoward; nothing to raise suspicion or comment, as she planned to verify matters for herself one way or the other. Because despite everything, she just couldn't bring herself to believe all the rumors about her husband. But she also couldn't stomach not knowing the truth.
So on a bright, sunny morning, she had their coach drop her off at Kew Gardens on the excuse she would be there all day to help with one of the social events of the season. Changing clothes in one of the caretaker sheds proved an adventure, but one she'd practiced for. From the bag Ada had secured there the day before, Elizabeth pulled out the modest nurses' uniform of a simple blue dress, starched white apron, and wide cap. After donning a pair of lensless spectacles and hiding her telltale auburn tresses beneath the cap, she was transformed from Lady Stainton to a middle class worker. Ten minutes later, she hopped on another coach and was on her way.
Since Elizabeth was not acquainted with the London Hospital, Ada had remedied the problem by drawing a detailed map for her. The woman seemed to love the secrecy and the intrigue, as well as the chance to prove herself smarter than her betters. And while at one time Elizabeth might have been offended by this, now she was just grateful she could use it to her advantage.
Robert wouldn't be in to his office at the hospital for at least another hour. So Elizabeth had plenty of time to make her way down the halls. The main area and the West Wing were as lovely and clean as those at Westminster. From Ada's map, she knew the East Wing was reserved for those in less fortunate situations, their halls segregated from more prosperous patients by watchful guards.
As she traversed the hallways, a passing doctor, using the commanding tone so common among medical men, demanded her assistance She deviated from her goal and followed him, hoping to allay suspicion. It proved a fortunate choice, as the doctor headed toward the East Wing of the hospital. The guard opened the door for them without a word and allowed their entry.
Elizabeth wasn't prepared for what she found in the main charity ward. Beds were crammed together with barely enough room to pass between them. What seemed like hundreds of unwashed bodies filled the air with a miasma of sweat, feces, and disease.
Her hand rose to cover her mouth and nose as her heart pounded at her chest. Her spirit moved for the first time in weeks.
The ward was nothing like the well-aired and clean environment she was used to at Westminster. Yes, there was always filth involved in some form or another at a hospital, but this... This was beyond anything she'd ever seen or smelt. And it was more than that. She could physically feel misery and hopelessness hanging in the air. The low moans of those waiting for medical help filled the room like the droning of bees. The condition of those who lived in the growing slums in Whitechapel were more odious than the picture painted by the papers.
But none of it seemed to bother the man she followed, meaning it was so commonplace it no longer had any effect on him. She shuddered at the thought.
The doctor stopped before a bed with threadbare, discolored linens. "Hold her down, if you please."
The rotting scent of gangrene slapped Elizabeth as she moved forward. A small, hollow-cheeked girl lay in the bed, a large, jagged gash on her leg the source of the rot—an infection left on its own for too long. Maggots had been set into the wound to eat the rotted flesh, but from the tendrils of infection spreading like webbing towards her thigh, they'd not been able to do enough. If the leg were not removed soon, the infection itself would kill the child.
The girl offered no resistance when Elizabeth held her down as the doctor pulled a filled syringe from a pocket. After injecting the girl, he raised an arm calling for a couple of orderlies and a stretcher. As they took the girl away to the operating theater, she excused herself before she ended up staying behind or screaming.
Hurrying back towards the main area, she sought out Robert's office. She closed the door and sighed with heartfelt relief, her knees shaking. Robert, her Robert, had tried to keep her from getting exposed to such ugliness and misery. He'd been concerned about her after all.
As her heart slowed, guilt nipped at her regarding her current enterprise. She'd come too far to stop though. The cutting hooks of need—for her to know how things were, one way or another—were mired too deep to be let go. Steeling herself, she stepped over to the coat closet housed behind a wall panel in the room to the left, right where Ada said it would be.
Elizabeth scrunched down behind a couple of heavy coats Robert would not be using until the weather turned colder. In the still air, she caught a hint of his scent. She found it unexpectedly soothing. Like a promise all would somehow be well between them again. She truly hoped it would be so.
* * * *
A hard bump startled her awake. Adrenaline spiked as she remembered where she was and why. The bump came again, this time followed by a muffled moan.
Palms growing damp and her breathing rapid from both fear and anticipation, she shifted in her hideaway and slowly opened the door just a crack to see what was outside.
At first she couldn't make out what she was seeing. Robert was sitting in his chair, leaning back, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open, moaning. He didn't look to be in pain, but she couldn't be sure. That's when she spotted the other person. Tucked into the kneehole of his desk was a woman. Her head was in his lap, a straw hat with faded flowers sitting on her dirty curls, which fell over her eyes as she pulled her head back and forth, her open mouth cradled over something large and straight.
Her motion picked up speed and Robert moaned as if in agony, yet his expression said it wasn't that at all. He jammed his hands into the woman's hair, trying to slow her pace, knocking her cheap, flowered hat askew.
"En-enough!" His voice was deeper than she'd ever heard it, his usual iron control apparently broken even as he struggled to reel it in. "The desk. Now!"
He pulled the woman up by the shoulders, yanking her to her feet. She gasped at the abrupt gesture, leaving behind what she'd had in her mouth, but before she could say anything, he'd spun her around and doubled her over the desk, throwing her skirts up to land over her. With a low growl rumbling deep in his throat, he yanked her yellowed knickers down, leaving her buttocks and privates exposed. Then without warning, he rammed the thing the woman had but recently had down her throat inside her from behind.
Elizabeth jerked back into the concealing darkness of the closet as Robert slammed into the woman again and again. The sound of smacking flesh matched the grunting, which grew louder by the moment. The two sounds beat into her until she thought she'd never be able to hear anything else ever again.
Rolling up into a ball in the corner, Elizabeth pressed her hands over her ears and shut her eyes as tight as she could make them. She didn't know the man in that office. She had never loved the thing hungering out there. And it was for that...for that ugliness, that Robert offered these women his brand of "charity." Which knowingly or not, had destroyed everything she'd ever held dear.
* * * *
Time passed and the appalling noises passed with it. Muted voices came and went. Her bladder painfully bleated at her, but she ignored the discomfort as best she could. When the office stayed silent for a time, she risked a look out of the closet, her insides shaking all the while.
It was empty. All trace of what she'd heard or seen was gone, as if she'd imagined it.
She crawled out of the closet, clinging desperately to the thought like a petulant child. She gravitated closer to the desk, to the scene of the ugliness. Despite the blotter, ink wells, and other desk fixtures being in their proper places, there was a hint of odors that were not. She smelled fish, of all things, fish and something salty.
Her stomach roiled as she realized she'd smelled both before, though not together. A soiled handkerchief in the wastebasket seemed to be the source—evidence of the deed, proof of the truth—whether she cared to know of it or not.
Elizabeth clamped her hands over her mouth as her stomach clenched and tried to send back what little she'd had for breakfast. Gagging, she rushed out of the office, not checking to make sure no one was out in the hallway. As quickly as she could, she headed for the water closet she'd passed before reaching Robert's office.
She retched into the toilet, the surging acid burning her throat on the way out. As it splashed onto the water, the acrid odor bounced against her face, but at least it overrode the memory of the smells from the office.
By the time her stomach was done with her, Elizabeth felt terribly woozy and weak. She tried to reach up for the dangling handle to flush her shame away, but her arm was too short and her legs refused to move from where she sat on the tiled floor. Struggling to breathe through her mouth rather than her nose, she set her flushed face on the comparatively cool seat and closed her eyes.
She had no idea how long she sat there, her mind blank, just working to take one breath after another. The silence, the isolation were as calming as they were unexpected. Much to her surprise, no one intruded on her misery. Perhaps what she was going through was a common occurrence here and not worthy of note.
Eventually, Elizabeth rallied enough strength to rise uneasily to her feet. While rinsing her mouth and washing her face, she tried to put herself together, inside and out. She had no idea how long she'd been here. Sooner or later, she'd be missed at home. She had to go.
She looked at herself in the mirror and fixed her cap and hair while ignoring the bloodshot eyes, the pale pallor, the stranger's face staring back at her, and made herself presentable.
To her horror, she found the sun had already set outside. The lamplighters had lit the street lights for the evening. If it was late enough, she'd not have a prayer of grabbing a coach. Kew Gardens would surely be closed by now, in any case. She wouldn't be able to go back and get her clothes. She'd asked Millie to cover for her, but if Robert had asked to see her... Panic nibbled at her, as she scanned the street hoping for a sign of a cab.
It was then she realized she'd gotten turned around and didn't exit the hospital on the Whitechapel Road side. Instead she'd ended up on Turner Street, one of the back thoroughfares. She'd not be finding a cab here.
Something familiar called for her attention down at the corner to her left. There was a woman there, leaning against the lamppost, flirting with a passerby. She wore a simple straw hat with faded flowers over dirty curls.
A jolt of heat flooded Elizabeth from her toes to her head. Her vision zoomed in on the woman until she saw nothing else. All thoughts of panic or getting home, disintegrated into nothing.
Shameless Cunt! She didn't know where the profane word came from or how she knew it, but it fit perfectly. This...this whore had tempted her husband with her diseased genitals and robbed Elizabeth of her future. She'd completely destroyed Elizabeth's ability of gaining any happiness whatsoever.
The demon spawn made a rude gesture as the man she'd been talking to turned away and moved on. She spit at the street then moved from the light, swaying her hips like a ringing bell.
Her hands curling into claws, Elizabeth found herself following after her.
* * * *
Elizabeth's hands shook as she tried to drink her morning tea in the sunroom. The entire previous evening was a blur. The house had been locked tight, when she'd finally made her way back, which had surprised her. She'd expected all the lights to be on and anxious servants running to and fro. But she'd been fortunate. Millie had done as asked, and Robert had assumed she'd gone to bed by the time he returned home. So a few well thrown pebbles had awakened her maid and gotten her back inside.
Her cup rattled in its saucer as she set both back on the table, the shaking in her hands growing worse.
Elizabeth had seen Robert's inner monster. But she'd also met her own.
"There you are, Lizzie!" Her husband waltzed into the room, a glowing smile on his face.
She avoided eye contact, knowing she had to confess to what she'd done. The rage had given her power, made her unafraid. It had grown and grown as she'd followed the woman. She'd watched her work her wiles down dirty dark byways in the rat warrens of the deeper sections of Whitechapel, giving her body to any man with coin.
"I've had a capital idea! One I think will give us both peace of mind and assure our futures!"
She almost laughed out loud. Assure their futures. Yes, she'd probably already taken care of that. And it had been so horribly easy. Mentioning Robert's name had gotten her close. Gasping and telling the woman it might already be too late and staring just beneath her skirts got her to grab them, giving Elizabeth the needed moment to step forward and place her hands around the poor woman's throat.
"Now, Lizzie, keep an open mind and you'll see how brilliant this is." He paced before her, throwing jubilant and sneaking glances her way. "In order to allay any possible rumors that may crop up in future when our little family does not grow, I'll be arranging for us to get a surrogate! I've already discussed it in detail with our solicitor, and he's drawing up a contract as we speak."
How the dirty woman's eyes had bugged out in surprise as she'd squeezed. How warm her neck had felt as Elizabeth clenched it with all her might and rage. The flurry of horrid words she'd whispered at her victim with such scathing hate. Watching as if from afar as her inner monster destroyed a life, as it cackled as the same spark stolen from her child dampened in the poor soul before her.
"We will be totally discreet, of course. And once I find the right individual, she'll go with us to the country. Then, once we're sure she's pregnant, the two of you can go to Europe on sabbatical for several months, citing that we want the best possible environment for you, so we don't have a repeat of the first time. Then, after my son or daughter is born, you'll make your triumphant way back to England with our new child."
Elizabeth opened her mouth to confess, to beg for mercy and understanding despite the horror of her deeds, until the meaning of his words finally dawned upon her. Her chest grew tight, fire spreading just beneath her skin. Her vision narrowed to a pinpoint, centered on the middle of his face. All thought, all feeling, suddenly burned away to nothing. Just like before.
He faced her and smiled, totally oblivious. "We'll then have our son or daughter and no one will have cause to question or doubt our status. Thus our lineage will be assured and no questions on your ability to give me an heir will ever arise." He paused, obviously waiting for her to praise him on his well-thought out and marvelous plan.
Elizabeth shook, leaning forward to hide her face from him. But unlike before, the shaking had nothing to do with fear or regret. Her husband planned to father a child with another woman—low growling noises, flesh pounding against flesh—and expected her to raise the issue as her own. He'd be giving someone else what he gave, but also took, from her? And he expected her to be grateful. To live in the same house as he went about his business, to watch as whatever whore he chose grew with his son or daughter, then to be there when she birthed it and claim it as her own child?
Heat flushed through her in ever increasing waves. She struggled not to move, wanting nothing more than to lunge herself at him, to pluck his eyes out of his head and stomp on them. To grab that self-righteous lie that was his face and disfigure it for all time. To destroy his heinous line and strike it from the world. The need of it scorched her from the inside out.
She would cave into it and scream and scream until she went mad and there was nothing of her left.
"Lizzie, I know it's asking a lot. But we must all make sacrifices to see us through. I know you understand this."
Sacrifices... He dared to speak to her about sacrifices? As fast as the rage came, it suddenly left her, leaving nothing but frozen ice behind. Poor, dear Robert, she was sure he'd be making a lot of "sacrifices" on their behalf. Perhaps the time had come for her to do some "charity" work of her own. She'd borrow a tool or two from Robert's surgery, the most expensive and sharpest, and make a few house calls on his behalf. Those ladies would never turn a gentleman away. She already knew what to do. All the unnecessary education she'd sacrificed so much to learn would come in quite handy. Then they'd see who was willing to give up what.
She felt calm, balanced, as she lifted her face and looked upon her husband. "Of course I do, Robert."
Yes, she understood very well. And soon, very soon, so would he.
The End.