A Bouquet of Thorns by Tania Crosse Page B

ever for selling Gospel. The future hardly dared thinking about!
    A sudden intake of breath pulled them apart.
    â€˜What? ’Tis not the babby?’ Florrie demanded in a fluster.
    She waited while Rose let out the breath in a slow stream. ‘No.’ And then she smiled at Florrie’s worried face. ‘’Tis not due for a few weeks yet. But Dr Seaton said I’d start getting practice contractions about now. So ’tis quite normal. I’ve had one or two in the last few days.’
    â€˜Oh, right then,’ Florrie sighed with relief. ‘Now let’s try to get a little more sleep, my young maid.’
    Rose nodded in reply, warmed and comforted by Florrie’s compassion. Her red-rimmed eyes felt tired, and it wasn’t long before she drifted into a restless slumber until she at last felt Florrie stir beside her.
    â€˜I reckon as you ought to get back to your husband,’ she whispered softly.
    â€˜Oh, yes, I must!’
    Rose sprang to her feet, in her haste forgetting the burden of the child. A sharp pain stabbed through her as her belly hardened, taking her breath away and stopping her in her tracks. She felt something snap inside her, and then her eyes met Florrie’s in horror as the warm liquid flooded down her legs and settled in a puddle on the rug.

Six
    â€˜W ell?’ Charles demanded tersely as Patsy showed the physician into the drawing room and then hastily retreated.
    Dr Seaton glared at him darkly as he came towards him, but did not reply until he had finished rolling down his shirtsleeves. ‘Your wife, Mr Chadwick,’ he began guardedly, ‘has been through a most difficult labour, as I’m sure you will have realized by my sending for Dr Ratcliffe to assist. Forty-eight hours is not unusual in a first child, but the contractions were strong and close together from the start, and there is always a risk when the waters break first. Mrs Chadwick became weak and exhausted, and I had to administer chloroform. And it was a forceps delivery.’
    Charles leapt to his feet, his cheeks flushed a bitter puce, and he slammed his fist so hard on the table beside him that the empty cup there rattled in its saucer. ‘This is all that bastard’s fault, isn’t it?’ he snarled, his handsome face twisted into a hideous mask. ‘She’s been pining for him . . . Yes,
pining
,’ he repeated acidly as the doctor raised one bushy grey eyebrow, ‘ever since he was rearrested. That’s what brought the baby on before its time, isn’t it? And you’re as much to blame! Helping them like that! I had to perjure myself to get you out of trouble!’ Charles barked, poking his head forward so that his nose was only inches away from Dr Seaton’s.
    The brittle air crackled between them, but the doctor regarded his patient’s husband with a steady eye. ‘I was, of course, interviewed by the authorities myself,’ he said levelly, ‘and perhaps I should remind you that I have a sworn duty to heal the sick no matter who they are. As for bringing on your wife’s labour prematurely, well, I believe I can say quite categorically that it had nothing to do with it. She is a most passionate young woman, but emotions cannot induce labour. However, she is small of frame and not as robust as many women of her age, which may have been a contributory factor. So please, Mr Chadwick, do not make a fool of yourself by blaming things that are physically impossible.’
    Charles appeared to gasp for breath, struggling to regain his composure, but one thing his pride could never allow him was to stand down from a situation. ‘And what about my son, then?’ he pressed menacingly.
    â€˜Your
daughter
,’ Dr Seaton answered pointedly, ‘is very small, as is to be expected. That in itself is not so much of a problem, but her early arrival has meant that her lungs are not quite as stable as I should have liked.