The Surgeon's Lady. Carla Kelly

by the shoulders. “You have us now. You always will.” Her grip relaxed. “Heavens, you’ll think I’m ferocious.”

      “You are, sister,” Laura said, drawing a shaky breath. “Did you terrify that French officer in Oliver’s prison?”

      “Probably,” Nana said, her tone kindly again. “He deserved it, though, for getting between me and my love.”

      And that is that, Laura thought, as her sister found Oliver’s pillow again and stretched it out.

      She thought Nana slept, but then: “Laura, please say you’ll stay here. I need you.”

      “I’ll stay.” I need you more, she thought, as her eyes closed.

      Laura woke a few hours later, because she heard the bedchamber door open. She sat up, alert, to see the tall form of Lt. Brittle—what had Nana called him? Phil?—holding up a lantern similar to one she had used in James’s sick room, with its sides slatted to allow only a little light, enough to see a patient by.

      He could see that she was sitting up in bed, but he didn’t pause at the door. He came closer in stockinged feet, to kneel by her.

      “Is she all right?” he whispered.

      “She’s fine,” Laura whispered back, leaning close to him, unwilling to wake Nana. “We’ve been catching up on our lives.”

      “You’re a welcome distraction,” he said. “She needs you.” She could see him distinctly now in the subdued light. “I like to ward walk before I sleep. Good night, Lady Taunton.”

      Laura nodded and lay down again, grateful for his reassuring presence, even if he did nothing more than shine a light and let her know he was there. To her unspeakable pleasure, he tugged the coverlet up higher and patted her shoulder, before he got to his feet and left the room as quietly as he had entered it.

      She put her hand where he had touched her, closed her eyes and slept.

       Chapter Three

      Lt. Brittle left before breakfast. Laura thought she might have to bully her sister to sit still and eat, in her anticipation for the captain to arrive, but admonition was unnecessary. After the meal, Nana went to the kitchen to plan the week’s menus, while Laura went to the book room to write a letter to Taunton.

      Writing the letter was a simple matter. Laura wondered what her butler and housekeeper would say when they learned she planned to stay in Torquay for the immediate future. She wanted to recommend holidays for them all, but knew that would be a shock to the system for her retainers, none of whom was younger than fifty.

      She was sealing the letter when she heard the front door open, then firm steps in the front hall. He’s here, she thought. Nana will never hear him from the kitchen. She stood up, wondering whether to go to the kitchen or into the foyer to introduce herself. Shyness kept her from doing either, but it didn’t matter.

      “Nana?”

      Captain Worthy’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried, even though probably not far enough to reach the kitchen.

      Laura hadn’t known her sister long. Certainly she had no reason to appreciate how close a bond between husband and wife could be. She opened the bookroom door just as Nana sped past her, arms open wide.

      Their embrace was wordless, but the intensity of it made Laura catch her breath. She opened the door enough to see her sister caught in the arms of a tall man made even taller by the fore and aft hat he wore, which was cocked slightly to the side to accommodate a bandage around his head.

      Before he kissed his wife, he removed his hat. Nana’s hands were gentle on his neck, careful not to touch his ear as he kissed her, kissed her again, and once more after that, until Nana ducked and asked him when he had last shaved.

      That seemed a good note for Laura to open the door wider and meet her brother-in-law, except that she stood where she was, transfixed by what followed. Oliver dropped to his knees and rested the undamaged side of his head against Nana’s belly. With a sob, her little sister laid her hands on him like a benediction.

      Laura softly closed the door as her heart pounded. All she could think of to do was thank the Almighty for tender mercies and count slowly to one hundred before opening the door again.

      She found the Worthys in the sitting room, looking out the window at the bay, the captain standing behind Nana, his arms around his whole family. He appeared to be resting his chin on Nana’s head.

      I still shouldn’t be here, Laura thought, embarrassed. She turned to go, but the captain looked around and smiled to see her. He let go of Nana and walked toward her. She thought he might bow, but he didn’t bother. Taking her by both arms, he kissed her forehead.

      “Life’s too short to stand on much formality, sister,” he said. “Start by calling me Oliver.”

      What could she do but agree? “I am Laura Taunton,” she replied, “and most heartily pleased to meet you.”

      He was handsome in a seagoing way, with a myriad of wrinkles around his eyes that were probably caused by years of facing into wind and water. His lips were thin as a Scotsman’s and his nose full of character. Still, none of his features registered as much as his brown eyes, so warm and kind, probably only because he was in the presence of the person he held most dear in the world. On the quarterdeck, she did not doubt he was absolute monarch. At home, her sister ruled, even though she probably did not know it.

      Laura took all this in, understanding her brother-in-law completely before she had said more than a sentence to him. How strange life was. In two days she had gone from having no family in the world, to the possession of a sister and a brother. Maybe there really was a God in Heaven.

      Nana stood by Oliver now, making him sit down on the sofa, then putting a pillow behind his head.

      “My love, would you humor me and let Philemon Brittle look at your ear?” Nana asked.

      Laura knew her brother-in-law would refuse his wife nothing. In his world of war over which he had no control, any gesture of kindness to his wife must have felt like the greatest gift he could give. He nodded.

      “I’ll get him,” Laura said.

       She took the well-traveled path between the two houses. So his name is Philemon, and not merely Phil, she told herself. It has been a long time since I have read that particular book of the New Testament. I wonder if anyone reads it.

      Lt. Brittle came to the door, his shirtsleeves rolled up. “Just helping me mum with the dishes,” he said. “Come in. Did I see a chaise pull up with Captain Worthy?”

      “You did,” she said, walking with him to the kitchen, where Nora Brittle was up to her elbows in soapy water. “Good day, Mrs. Brittle. May I help?”

      The surgeon handed his dish towel to her. “You finish. I’ll get my pocket instruments and some wadding.”

       Laura took the plate Mrs. Brittle handed her, wondering when she had last dried a dish. In the last day, I have been hugged and cosseted, and cried over and touched, she thought, as her eyes prickled. People need me. If I am ever alone again, it will be my own fault and no one else’s.

      “Are you feeling all right, Lady Taunton?” Mrs. Brittle asked quietly.

      “Never better.”

      After sitting Oliver Worthy in a straight chair, draping a towel around his neck and advising Nana to recline on the sofa out of view of the injury, Lt. Brittle took out a pair of long-nosed scissors from his packet of instruments, then handed the rest to Laura.

      “I should ask—are you up for this?”

      He seemed to expect no answer but yes, so she did not disappoint him. It wasn’t the place, not with Nana looking so anxious, but perhaps later she could tell him that she actually was curious.

      Laura