Julia rose from the dining chair next to Mrs. Phipps and spun around, her bonnet untied, ribbons streaming in disarray. “My parents’ home in Chelsea isn’t safe anymore,” she blurted out, as if reading Nora’s thoughts. “Cholera everywhere. My father’s volunteered to come out of retirement and sail a ship to Denmark. He’s taking my mother with him. They want me togo, too—get out of London.”
Nora started to exclaim that this was extreme, then dropped her eyes, remembering the short message sent in childish script to her weeks ago.Elias taken by God.The Morse family had lost both sons. Taking leave of London certainly wouldn’t have sounded extreme to them. If only they’d had the choice.
“I’m not going without Harry. I’ve been begging him to go as ship’s doctor, but he refuses.” Julia sat down heavily, and Nora took the empty seat on her other side.
“Try to remember, Horace has had more experience treating cholera than anyone, and he never took sick.” She paused and inhaled. “Harry’s being very careful.”
“It doesn’t seem to matter.” Julia pressed her hands to her cheeks, a ruby glinting in her wedding ring like a drop of blood. “My mother lost a friend last week, and now her children are ill. It’s creeping through the air, whether you’re careful or not.” Julia lifted off her bonnet and laid in her lap. “There’s nowhere to go.”
Mrs. Phipps poured out steaming, strongly brewed doses of tea into their cups. “No cases in my sister’s town. She wrote just days ago. The three of us can still go.”
Nora tried for a reassuring smile. “Daniel and Harry and Horace are overrun with cholera cases, and babies won’t stop coming just because the doctors are busy with an epidemic. I have mothers who need me here.”
“But I thought…” Julia narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you stopping for your confinement?” A long yellow curl unraveled against her shoulder.
“I’m not treating cholera cases.”For now.It was an uneasy truce she’d made with Daniel. “But people are sick and hurt,as always.” Nora stopped at the dark flash of dismay in Julia’s bright eyes before she dropped her head. “What’s the matter?”
Instead of answering, Julia gathered her clenched hands into her lap and shook her head, refusing to look up.
“Julia, dear?” Mrs. Phipps ventured.
“She’s going to have a child.” Her whispered voice fractured, breaking off the rest of her sentence. She folded her shoulders inward, a wall of flesh to block them out.
Nora reached out an uncertain hand. “What is it? Has something happened?”
Something between a scoff and a sob escaped Julia’s mouth. “Nothing at all has happened,” she finally answered.
Nora’s startled glance met Mrs. Phipps’s mournful face. How to proceed?
“I’m sorry… Is it about my pregnancy?”
Julia stood, turning herself completely away from her friends. “It’s not yours. Or my cousin’s. Or my mother’s friend’s grandchildren. It’s not any of the pregnant women or filled prams. Nothing at all to do with a single one of them.” She wiped her face with trembling fingers.
“It’s me. I’ll never have one of my own,” Julia whispered.
Understanding spilled over Nora.
Mrs. Phipps dropped her head, but Nora could tell she was not surprised. This was why Julia had fled the breakfast table, then fled this house to visit her parents.
“But…” Julia had been pregnant three years ago when she was only seventeen. She couldn’t be barren. Yet there was no way to say it without referencing—
Julia looked at her and pressed a hand to her chest as ifsuffering from one of Horace’s angina attacks. “I know. It makes me want to die when I thinkhegave me a child and Harry can’t!”
The burning words scalded Nora’s ears until they hardly worked at all. She couldn’t let Julia speak of wanting to die. The scars on her arms… “Harry’s a doctor,” she tried again. “Has he examined you?”
Julia’s cheeks went red, and she pressed her lips together. “He said there must be too much scarring from his surgery. That’s the only explanation.”
“He’s not a specialist,” Nora pointed out. Harry was an intrepid doctor, but he avoided obstetrics practice, claiming he hadn’t the resolve or the temperament. “You should have come to me,” Nora admonished gently, wishing she could have eased Julia’s pain long ago.
“You’ve only been home from Italy for nine months, and nearly all of it was wedding plans and setting up your hospital. Besides, I kept hoping…” The strained veins across her temple stood in contrast to her smooth skin. Nora must keep the conversation soothing.
“I was such a fool to not notice. Exactly how long?”
“Two years and four months.” Julia’s chin wobbled. “We pretended it was normal for so long, but you’ve only been married a few months and you’re already—”
Terrified.
It wasn’t the moment to confess the cold distance growing between her and Daniel, or that he no longer wrapped his arms around her on the rare nights they shared a bed. All from their disagreements over the tiny person they’d not yet met.
