Page 101
Wincing, Norman replied, “While I may not be able to entirely dismiss the idea that I wasn’t less than unaware of it, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I fully knew what might or might not be happening.”
Reina turned to John in exasperation. “Didn’t it occur to you that Tuppence might need my support?”
“I judged your time was better spent working on the details of the partnership agreement with Mr. Farlow.”
“Pembroke has a point,” Farlow volunteered.
They both ignored him.
“Well,” Reina said, glaring at John, “it seems you and Mr. Farlow have kindly relieved me of any need for decision-making. I suppose you should go ask Tuppence to muffle her screams of pain so my work isn’t interrupted.”
As all three men looked at her blankly, she snapped, “That was sarcasm.” She passed by Farlow on her way to the stairs. “Our meeting is over, William.”
As Farlow watched her leave, he said dryly, “I’m almost positive that was a temper.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
A Doctor in the House
Reina raced down the servants’ stairs at a headlong pace.
“Not so fast!” John shouted as he went after her. “You’ll fall and break your bloody neck.”
“I require no more of your supervision, Pembroke.”
By the time he reached the ground floor, Reina had already gone to Tuppence’s sitting room and found it empty. She emerged looking bewildered and upset. “Where—”
“My room.” He motioned for her to precede him along the hallway.
She didn’t bother asking why, only hurried to the butler’s office, while John followed in ground-eating strides.
June had just emerged with a basket of used toweling. She moved as if she were plowing through heavy clay, the earth pulling at her feet. At their approach, she stopped and looked up bleakly.
“She’s in a bad taking, Queenie,” she said in a low voice. “She needs a doctor.”
“We’ll send for one immediately,” Reina told her.
But June shook her head. “She ain’t havin’ it. Not unless it’s a female doctor.”
Reina looked taken aback. “But—that’s not possible—I don’t think—”
“We’d sooner find a bull with tits,” June said darkly, and continued to the laundry.
After exchanging a worried glance with John, Reina entered the butler’s office and tapped on the closed bedroom door.
“I’ll be out in a moment.” It was the midwife’s muffled voice.
As they waited, John noticed Reina’s hand stealing up to her nape in the same gesture he’d noticed earlier. “Sore?” he asked.
She sighed and nodded, her annoyance with him appearing to have been set aside. “I feel like an overwound watch.”
“You didn’t expect Farlow to negotiate as an adversary,” he said.
“No. I thought it would be a collaboration. I assumed he would deal fairly with me.”
The door pushed open, revealing a glimpse of mounded bedclothes, lamplight, twisting shadows, and Enid sitting beside the bed.
Mrs. Caswell, the midwife, crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her. She was dressed in a simple white cap, a long-sleeved dress, and a large white apron. The sturdy middle-aged woman had a capable air and warm brown eyes. A thousand stories of birth and death had written a calligraphy of soft creases across her face.
