least she shouldn’t. “As I recall, keeping your promises isn’t precisely your strong suit. If you should renege—”
“I shan’t.” Reclaiming her arm, he folded it into his. “Shall we get on with our tour? Time is, after all, money, and I shall expect my hundred pounds’ worth.”
“Don’t you ever rest?” Robert asked some time later, trailing Phoebe down yet another labyrinthine passageway. So far they’d visited the governors’ courtroom, chapel, girls’ dormitory, boys’ dormitory, sundry classrooms and even the morgue, all of it at a brisk to breakneck pace.
She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “I haven’t the need, but don’t let me hinder you from doing so.”
“No, I’m fine. I was only concerned for you.”
“Hmm,” was all she said before darting down another white-walled corridor.
Lengthening his stride, he found himself wondering how it was that such a graceful woman managed to move so swiftly. The indolent maid of his memory seemed to have acquired the gait of a racehorse, not that he considered complaining of it. Admiring the hind view of those slender, swaying hips made for a deucedly pleasant pastime even if the reek of turpentine and lemon oil was beginning to block his nose.
They ended their tour at the infirmary. The strong smell of vinegar permeated the vicinity. A glass-front apothecary cabinet containing myriad meticulously labeled clear jars, a washing bench outfitted with a bandage roller and stacked bedpans, and a leather-bound ledger presumably for recording the circumstances of patients comprised the long, narrow room. Phoebe’s hushed conference with the attending nurse secured their admission. Robert followed her along the queue of narrow cots, all but one of them unoccupied.
“Feeling a bit better today, Sally?” Phoebe asked, pausing to rest her hand upon the child’s brow, her swollen jaw banded by a camphor-soaked cloth.
The girl, Sally, shook her head, wincing. “Tooth hurts terrible.”
Phoebe stroked a hank of brown hair back from the girl’s forehead. “I’m sure it does, poppet, but at least your fever’s down. Once the foulness finishes draining, you’ll be right as rain.”
Dull eyes looked up into hers. “Yes, miss.”
Most in Phoebe’s position would have moved along, but instead she lingered. “I was going to give this to you later, but now shall serve.” She reached into her gown’s pocket and pulled out a cloth-covered doll.
The fevered little face lit. “Oh, miss, thank you!”
Phoebe tucked the doll into the crook of Sally’s arm and straightened. “Not only a doll, but a magic doll. Whenever your tooth troubles you, squeeze upon her and she’ll help keep the pain away.”
Looking on, Robert felt his heart give a powerful pull. Phoebe had the makings of a marvelous mother. The earlier scene in the classroom and now this strengthened his resolve to do all in his power to ensure that her future children would be his, not Bouchart’s.
Seeing her about to turn back to him, he quickly made a mask of his face. “You needn’t fear infection,” she said archly, misreading him yet again. “Mostly we treat minor injuries, sprained ankles and, in Sally’s case, toothaches. More serious cases are transported to St. George’s.”
“My constitution is that of an ox,” he answered, no idle boast. Given the fevers and pestilence to which he’d been exposed, an abscessed tooth and a few runny noses hardly seemed of note. Stepping away from the beds with Phoebe, he asked, “How did you come to volunteer here?”
She hesitated. “In an odd way, I have you to thank for it.”
“I?” Even strongly suspecting he would regret it, he had to ask, “How so?”
“After we were told you were…lost, I wasn’t entirely certain what to do with myself, how to go on. Coming here began as a crutch, a reason to rise from bed each morning. Over time I began adding days, heartened that it was in my power
“I shan’t.” Reclaiming her arm, he folded it into his. “Shall we get on with our tour? Time is, after all, money, and I shall expect my hundred pounds’ worth.”
“Don’t you ever rest?” Robert asked some time later, trailing Phoebe down yet another labyrinthine passageway. So far they’d visited the governors’ courtroom, chapel, girls’ dormitory, boys’ dormitory, sundry classrooms and even the morgue, all of it at a brisk to breakneck pace.
She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “I haven’t the need, but don’t let me hinder you from doing so.”
“No, I’m fine. I was only concerned for you.”
“Hmm,” was all she said before darting down another white-walled corridor.
Lengthening his stride, he found himself wondering how it was that such a graceful woman managed to move so swiftly. The indolent maid of his memory seemed to have acquired the gait of a racehorse, not that he considered complaining of it. Admiring the hind view of those slender, swaying hips made for a deucedly pleasant pastime even if the reek of turpentine and lemon oil was beginning to block his nose.
They ended their tour at the infirmary. The strong smell of vinegar permeated the vicinity. A glass-front apothecary cabinet containing myriad meticulously labeled clear jars, a washing bench outfitted with a bandage roller and stacked bedpans, and a leather-bound ledger presumably for recording the circumstances of patients comprised the long, narrow room. Phoebe’s hushed conference with the attending nurse secured their admission. Robert followed her along the queue of narrow cots, all but one of them unoccupied.
“Feeling a bit better today, Sally?” Phoebe asked, pausing to rest her hand upon the child’s brow, her swollen jaw banded by a camphor-soaked cloth.
The girl, Sally, shook her head, wincing. “Tooth hurts terrible.”
Phoebe stroked a hank of brown hair back from the girl’s forehead. “I’m sure it does, poppet, but at least your fever’s down. Once the foulness finishes draining, you’ll be right as rain.”
Dull eyes looked up into hers. “Yes, miss.”
Most in Phoebe’s position would have moved along, but instead she lingered. “I was going to give this to you later, but now shall serve.” She reached into her gown’s pocket and pulled out a cloth-covered doll.
The fevered little face lit. “Oh, miss, thank you!”
Phoebe tucked the doll into the crook of Sally’s arm and straightened. “Not only a doll, but a magic doll. Whenever your tooth troubles you, squeeze upon her and she’ll help keep the pain away.”
Looking on, Robert felt his heart give a powerful pull. Phoebe had the makings of a marvelous mother. The earlier scene in the classroom and now this strengthened his resolve to do all in his power to ensure that her future children would be his, not Bouchart’s.
Seeing her about to turn back to him, he quickly made a mask of his face. “You needn’t fear infection,” she said archly, misreading him yet again. “Mostly we treat minor injuries, sprained ankles and, in Sally’s case, toothaches. More serious cases are transported to St. George’s.”
“My constitution is that of an ox,” he answered, no idle boast. Given the fevers and pestilence to which he’d been exposed, an abscessed tooth and a few runny noses hardly seemed of note. Stepping away from the beds with Phoebe, he asked, “How did you come to volunteer here?”
She hesitated. “In an odd way, I have you to thank for it.”
“I?” Even strongly suspecting he would regret it, he had to ask, “How so?”
“After we were told you were…lost, I wasn’t entirely certain what to do with myself, how to go on. Coming here began as a crutch, a reason to rise from bed each morning. Over time I began adding days, heartened that it was in my power
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