“Charlotte doesn’t want baby,” Pei Ling went on. “Miss Liddy see it has good home.”
Surely this could have waited until the morning, Nathan thought. What made taking the baby out tonight so urgent?
“Miss Liddy afraid for baby,” Pei Ling said, answering Nathan’s unvoiced questions. “Doctor at whorehouse not very good. Miss Liddy doesn’t like. She say he drink too much. She think he might hurt Charlotte or baby. Miss Liddy go today to see Charlotte, but her time not come. Now it come and Miss Liddy go again.”
Nathan doubted Pei Ling had ever spoken so many sentences together in her life. She seemed surprised by her effrontery and quickly bent her head and studied the floor.
Father Patrick stopped pacing. “Well, Mr. Hunter? Could we press upon you to go after Lydia? She made Pei Ling promise not to tell her parents, which is why she came to me. I’m afraid my absence from the musicale is already cause for some comment. I can’t afford to be gone much longer.”
“Miss Chadwick must have already been missed by others,” Nathan said.
Pei Ling nodded. “I tell Father she not feel well and go to room. He want to see her but I say she not want to be disturbed. I could not find Missus.”
Nathan knew why that was so. “I’ll go after her. I don’t know why she didn’t leave with the women who came with the message. At least she’d have had an escort to Portsmouth Square.”
Father Patrick’s dark-red brows lifted slightly. “So you do know where Miss Bailey’s is.”
“Don’t take me to task for it, Father. Be happy that I do.”
It was drizzlingby the time Lydia reached the brothel. She was happy to get out from under the rain and the thick cloud of fog and into the relative safety of Miss Bailey’s. Every noise between Nob Hill and Portsmouth Square quickened her heart and her pace until she was running through Chinatown on her way to Kearny Street. She took the side entrance to Miss Bailey’s and leaned against the door for several minutes to catch her breath.
“Here you are,” Ginny said, coming halfway down the narrow back staircase. “Me and Mara thought you changed your mind.”
Lydia unfastened the satin frog at her throat and hung her damp cloak by a hook near the door. “You could have waited for me,” she said, starting up the stairs with her basket. “It only took me a few minutes to get ready.”
Ginny’s bright yellow curls bobbed as her head came up suddenly. “Wait for you? You wouldn’t mind being seen with us?”
Remorse struck at Lydia’s heart. She had been berating them for leaving her to make the trip alone and they had only been thinking of her reputation. “Of course I wouldn’t mind.”
“Imagine that,” Ginny said. “And I was so sure you’d want us out of the house as quick as possible. Mara didn’t even want to go in. Wanted to pay a boy to give you the message and be done with it. I said we should try to look like we belong and deliver it personal.”
“You did the right thing. Has Charlotte had the baby yet?”
“Soon. I think she’s waiting for you. Won’t let Doc Franklin hardly touch her.”
At the top of the stairs they turned left and headed up another flight. Charlotte had been given a room in the attic for her delivery. In the event it was a hard labor, Ida Bailey didn’t want the customers complaining about Charlotte’s screaming.
“I’ll help what I can,” Ginny said as they entered Charlotte’s room. “Mara’s got someone with her, but I’m free.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Kind of a slow night. All the swells are at your place applying for sainthood.”
Lydia thought she was used to Ginny’s plain speaking, but that comment made her feel heat in her cheeks. She had never given a thought to the men who frequented Miss Bailey’s house. Now she wondered how many of them had danced with her this evening, played poker with her father, or made a pledge to Father Patrick. One of them might even be the father of Charlotte’s child. The thought disappointed her first and then made her angry, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Charlotte had cried out.
“I’m here now,” Lydia said, ignoring Dr. Franklin’s mumbled aside. She sat down on the edge of the bed and took Charlotte’s hand. There was a basin filled with water on the floor beside the bed. Lydia took the cloth lying over the rim of the basin, wet it, and gently wiped the perspiration off Charlotte’s pale face. “She could use a fresh gown, Ginny. This one’s soaked through. See what you can find.”
“She’s not changing her gown now,” Dr. Franklin said quellingly. “She’s about to give birth.”
“Then she’ll have it for later. Or were you going to let her lie here like this for the rest of the evening?” Lydia shivered. “And it’s cold in here. Why don’t you start a fire?”
Franklin sputtered and swayed a little on his feet. He attempted to level Lydia with a hard stare, but his eyes were slightly unfocused. “I’mthe doctor.”
“Yes, well, there’s a mystery.” Her sharp retort raised a wan smile on Charlotte’s lips and captured Lydia’s attention. “Good. That’s all I wanted to see. You’re going to be fine, do you know that? And the baby’s going to be fine.” She smoothed back Charlotte’s ash-blond hair where it lay wetly against her forehead and placed the cloth across her brow. “Go ahead, you can squeeze my hand when it hurts. I don’t mind.” Lydia turned her anxious eyes in the direction of the doctor. “Isn’t there anything you can do for her? Should she be in so much pain?”
“It’s perfectly normal,” Franklin said. “Which proves my point that you shouldn’t be here at all. This is no place for you.”
“This is no place foranywoman.” Lydia didn’t like the look of Dr. Franklin. His thin, slight body was hunched at the foot of the bed as though straightening would have pained him. His hands, when they weren’t jammed in the pockets of his jacket, trembled. His dark eyes were rheumy and he dabbed at them occasionally with a handkerchief. In the short time that Lydia had been in the room he had gone to his black satchel twice and raised something to his lips. Lydia was not so naive that she didn’t realize he was drinking.
Ginny entered the room carrying fresh linens and a nightgown. Without any prompting from Lydia, she built a fire and kept busy tending it. The tension between the doctor and Lydia was almost a tangible thing and Ginny didn’t want any part of it.
Lydia replaced the cloth on Charlotte’s forehead several times in the next half hour. Her hand was bruised where Charlotte held it in a tight grip each time she had a contraction. Lydia’s silent entreaties to the doctor went unanswered. Except to knock back a little drink, he didn’t leave the bed, and save for the few times he muttered something to himself, he didn’t speak.
