“I can attest to the robust health of her last charge.”
“She might have dried up since then.”
Charlotte recoiled at the man’s bald words.
“No, sir. She left my friend’s employ only this morning.”
“Why was she sacked?”
“It was nothing of the kind. I can vouch for her character and dependability, sir. Rest assured.”
“Well, have you examined her yourself?”
“Examined? Not in so many words.”
“Then do your job, man, and let’s be done. If she’s fit, I want her to nurse little Crispin here before he starves.”
Charlotte felt the blood rushing to her face and neck.
“Miss Lamb is a naturally modest girl,” Kendall muttered, biting his lip.
“Then use that screen there. I don’t know a thing about this girl.
Is it not reasonable to want some proof of her health, that she isn’t ill or infected with some foul sores that would harm my boy?”
Dr. Kendall opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked at Charlotte soberly.
“Miss Lamb, would you mind stepping behind the screen? It won’t take but a moment.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to protest further, but the infant’s whines grew into pitiful squeals that tore at Charlotte’s heart—and threatened to cause her milk to let down on its own.
She stepped behind the screen and waited as Dr. Kendall adjusted it to enclose them more fully. He looked at her and mouthed the wordsForgive me.
He looked from her face down to the neckline of her gown meaningfully. Heart pounding, face burning, she looked away from him and worked her bodice down until it pooled at her waist. Then she lowered one strap of her chemise from her shoulder, then the other. She had forgotten she had bound her breasts with muslin, to alleviate the pain and swelling since she was still full of milk. She swallowed, then unpinned the cloth where she had fastened its end. As she began to unwind the long strip, she glanced surreptitiously at the doctor and saw that he endeavored to maintain a detached, officious expression.
“Make sure her milk is still flowing,” the dreadful man called from the other side of the screen.
Wincing, Charlotte paused. Would Dr. Kendall expect her to express milk in front of him? How mortifying.
At that moment the infant began crying in earnest. As she had feared, her milk let down in response, wetting through the remaining layers of muslin before she could wrap her arms over herself. Dr. Kendall lifted a hand, silently motioning for her to cease unwinding.
“Milk flow is excellent,” he called over his shoulder. “The ... everything ... looks quite perfect.”
He returned his gaze to her face. Although Charlotte was relieved beyond words not to have to expose herself fully, she was still too embarrassed to meet his eyes.
“You may redo your things, Miss Lamb. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
Charlotte quickly repositioned her gown. “Why do I not nurse him right now?” she said, attempting to regain her composure.
“Have you another room I might use?”
“Yes, of course.”
Charlotte sat in a chair in a small examination room, nursing the babe who suckled with desperate voracity. The sensation was both relieving and slightly painful. She hoped he would be gentler in subsequent feedings.
The young wife watched with eyes wide, not averted as politeness might have dictated. “Youareperfect,” she breathed.
Charlotte did not know how to respond to such a shocking remark. The young woman clearly realized what she had said, for her face flushed pink. “I only meant, compared to me ...”
