“Why in the world ...?” Charlotte began.
“No one will nurse these poor souls. The syphilis is catching that way. They try to feed the babes by hand, but it ain’t natural like. This ain’t either, but it seems to work a bit better.”
Mrs. Krebs, who was helping another swaddled infant suckle the black goat, said from her position a few strides away, “I was as stunned as you no doubt are, Miss Smith, when Dr. Taylor first suggested it. Thought he was off his bean. Said the Frenchies do it all the time and it might be worth a go here as well.”
As Charlotte watched, the white goat jumped down and moved to a cot at the end of the row and eagerly hopped up again. Sally followed, again helping the waiting babe reach the goat’s teat with her gloved hands.
Dr. Taylor came to stand next to Charlotte. “It’s as if the goats actually know and remember which babes are hers to nurse. The white one always feeds these and the black the others. Even if we put the babe in a different crib, the goat finds her own to feed.”
“Amazing.”
“It is, isn’t it? Still, it’s a pity. Most of these children have little hope of seeing the month through.”
“Really?” Charlotte felt herself take a step back even before she realized what she was doing.
“It’s a sad business. But we try.”
Charlotte’s cheery visions of singing lullabies to healthy pink babies seemed foolish now. She felt as though she might be ill.
“Can nothing be done?” she asked.
“Well. Pray, of course. And thank God for goats.”
The [milkweed] root, which is the only part used, is a counter-poison,
both against the bad effects of poisonous herbs
and the bites and stings of venomous creatures.
—NICHOLASCULPEPPER,17TH CENTURY HERBALIST
CHAPTER6
Afew hours later, Daniel was standing in the manor hall directing the flow of volunteers bearing crates and bundles of donated supplies. He looked up and saw Charlotte walking toward him, coming from the direction of the foundling ward. He immediately stepped forward, hoping to shield her from view.
“Miss Smith,” he said, keeping his voice low, “might I suggest a sojourn in the back garden? A horde of ladies-aid types are swarming about the place, and I understand several are from Kent.”
Her eyes widened as she glanced at the hall beyond him, expression sober.
“Thank you, I shall.”
She turned at once and quickly retreated the way she had come. But not quite quickly enough.
Daniel turned and nearly collided with a thin-faced socialite in burgundy velvet and plumed hat.
“That woman you were just speaking with—that was Charlotte Lamb, was it not?” She craned her neck to see past him.
“Lamb? I do not believe we have anyone here by that name.”
“Yes, yes, that was Charlotte. I am sure of it.”
He shrugged. “There are so many here today, with your group, as well as our staff and volunteers ...”
“But you were just speaking with her.”
“Was I? I believe the last lady I spoke with was a volunteer, donating blankets. She is not with you?”
“No.”
