His eyes glimmered. He lowered his head, bringing his face close to hers. “I should be honored to be yours.”
They stood that way for a moment, in a silence heavy with unspoken things.
Charlotte took a deep breath. “Sally is dear to me, as you know. I hope you ... and Lizzy ... will be kind to her.” She put her fist to her heart. “It will please me if you show her every attention.”
Quietly, he asked, “Will it?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He straightened but continued to peer down at her for a long moment without speaking. He reached out his hand toward her. It was not customary, to say the least, but Charlotte understood the impulse behind it. Some culmination of feeling must occur. It was either shake hands or embrace. But that, of course, would be inappropriate and foolish and unfair to them all. So instead, she gripped his hand with her smaller one and felt his answering squeeze. She held tight a moment longer, then let go.
Charlotte sipped her tea in the dining room of the inn, waiting for her coach to be announced. She had insisted that Thomas return to his work, that he need not wait with her. He had gone, though reluctantly.
Dr. Kendall came in, hat in hand and out of breath. “Miss Lamb. I am so glad I found you before you left. I wonder if I might trespass on your kindness for some time longer?”
“Of course. Please, do have a seat, Dr. Kendall.”
“Thank you.” He sat down and leaned across the table to speak in confidential tones. “A couple has come to me in dire need of a nurse for their infant son. The young mother is unable to nurse him properly, and the father fears his son will suffer.”
“What is the problem?”
“Well, that is rather delicate to discuss here. But if you could come to my offices and meet them ...”
“But my coach—”
“They pass through for London with stops in Crawley twice each day, Miss Lamb. If you could postpone at least until the afternoon’s coach, or tomorrow’s, I am sure the couple would pay for your lodgings. Or I shall, if you would allow me.”
“I had not thought to continue on as a nurse.”
“This would only be a temporary position. I am certain the mother will, in time, be able to nurse her son herself as she desires to do.”
He leaned closer yet. “You are still ... able, do you think?”
She looked at the table, self-consciously slouching a bit to diminish her swollen breasts. She nodded.
“If you could relieve the child’s distress and hunger even for a few hours, I am sure the couple would be most grateful.”
Charlotte had no real desire to wet-nurse another child. But neither could she stand the thought of an infant suffering hunger when she could help. “I shall come.”
“Thank you. I have already told them about you. In fact, they are waiting on us as we speak. If you would not mind ...?”
“My bags ...”
“I shall ask the innkeeper to stow them for you. Until you decide?”
“Thank you.”
They walked quickly through town to Dr. Kendall’s offices, where he lost no time in making introductions. “Mr. and Mrs. Henshaw, may I present Miss Charlotte Lamb.”
Charlotte curtsied.
Mr. Henshaw was older than she would have imagined, in his early fifties, perhaps. He was well dressed with craggy features and light brown hair combed to one side. He remained seated, legs crossed, impatiently bouncing his knee. His wife was young indeed. No more than seventeen or eighteen, Charlotte guessed. She was a lovely, dainty girl, with fair hair pulled into a fashionable coil and wide, pale blue eyes—eyes which looked terribly concerned. In her arms, she held a baby, wriggling and red-faced. Yet he made no loud cry, merely whined in high-pitched bursts of protest every half minute or so.
“Poor dear. How old is he?” Charlotte asked.
“A week tomorrow,” Mrs. Henshaw answered quietly.
“If he lives that long,” Mr. Henshaw snapped. “Now, let’s not waste time, Kendall. You’ve found us this nurse in haste. How do we know she even has sufficient milk to nurse my son?”
