“Come now, you know how it’s done.”
“Yes, but this is Dr. Taylor’s baby. His wife might ...”
“His wife’s a raving loony at the moment, dearie. Best thing for that wee one is to be as far away from her as possible for now. Go on, nurse the wee one. Nurse your own grievin’ heart as well.”
Charlotte saw the compassion, the understanding in the older woman’s eyes, and her own eyes filled with tears.
“If you think it would help her,” she whispered.
Mrs. Krebs smiled a sad smile and squeezed Charlotte’s arm. “It will help, Charlotte.”
Using the better-lit main stairs, Charlotte returned carefully to her room. She sat in her chair and loosened her gown and offered her heavy breast to the baby. After a few awkward tries, the little girl latched on and began nursing. Charlotte wept the whole while. Blood and tears and milk were flowing out of her at such a rapid rate that Charlotte felt as though her very life were being drained from her ... yet returned to her at the same time.
Daniel Taylor shuffled through the corridor, exhausted and defeated. His wife was worse than ever. The delivery had sent the puerperal mania to new heights. Or was it depths? His poor little daughter! Would she ever know the bright, loving woman he’d married?
Mrs. Krebs came out of the infant ward, closing the door behind her.
“Mrs. Krebs. Have you found someone to nurse the baby?”
“Aye.”
He headed toward the foundling ward.
“She isn’t in there. I asked Miss Smith to nurse ’er.”
“Miss Smith? Why on earth?”
“I have me reasons.”
“And she agreed?”
“That she did.”
“Where is she?”
“Told her she could take the wee one back to her room. Poor lamb—never seen a girl so modest-like.”
He walked quietly back through the manor to Charlotte’s room. The door was closed. Through it, he could hear Charlotte Lamb singing to his infant daughter in a tear-cracked voice. It was not a lullaby she was singing. He recognized the tremulous melody of a hymn:
“...To thee in my distress, to thee,
A worm of earth, I cry;
A half-awakened child of man,
An heir of endless bliss or pain,
A sinner born to die....”
He leaned his forehead against the smooth wooden door, to absorb the sound, the sadness ... if he could.
Now, in chusing of a Nurse, there are sixe things to be considered:
Her birth and Parentage: her person: her behavior:
her mind: her milke: and her child.
—JAMESGUILLEMEAU,CHILDBIRTH OR
