The Surgeon's Lady. Carla Kelly

Country burr. “Laura.”

      Laura remembered Pym’s determination to give Eleanor Massie a well-bred accent, and her pique at never quite erasing the burr from the pretty child’s voice.

      Her words were for Nana only, so she whispered them. “Sister, it took me three months to work up the nerve. What a fool I was.”

      Nana drew a shuddering breath, then held herself off to look at Laura, from her stylish bonnet, to her impeccable traveling dress to her elegant half boots, then back to Laura’s hair, the color of her own. She gave it a gentle tug.

      “When we were at the academy, I used to think you were the most beautiful creature in the whole world,” Nana said. She laughed out loud, a delightful sound that traveled to every corner of Laura’s heart. “I should have known we were related!”

      Laura couldn’t help laughing. “You’re still a scamp,” she said, taking her sister’s hand.

      Just then Nana remembered the others in the room, the man still standing.

      “Mrs. Brittle, Surgeon Brittle, this is my sister, Lady Taunton.”

      Suddenly, it was too much. Laura felt Nana sag, but the man was quicker. In a moment he had seated Nana on the sofa, and stepped back so Laura could join her. He poured a glass of water and handed it to her sister.

      “Drink that and lean back,” he told her. “Deep breath.” Nana obeyed him without question.

      Laura looked from the man to his mother, which served to give Mrs. Brittle leave to speak.

      “My son is a surgeon,” she said. “He’s newly arrived from Jamaica.”

      That would explain the handsome tan. She wouldn’t have called him good-looking, but the mahogany of his complexion seemed determined to cover the defects of sharp nose, thin lips and hair so short she wondered at first if he was bald. On the other hand, if Lt. Brittle was not the most handsome man she had ever seen—even in his glory days, her late husband was worth a second look—the surgeon had magnificent shoulders, the kind commonly associated with road-mending crews. Laura was impressed and puzzled, in equal shares.

      “They came in force to bring me bad news,” Nana said in her forthright way.

      “No, merely it-could-be-worse news,” the lieutenant contradicted. “The good news is that Captain Worthy can swim.” Nana relaxed further under the calmness of his gaze.

      Laura watched him, interested, as the sheer force of his personality seemed to steady them. Mrs. Brittle said he was a surgeon. For years, she had seen many a physician up close, but never had she observed a better example of bedside manner, and from a mere surgeon in the Royal Navy. So much for the day’s surprises.

      “Swim?” Laura asked. “I am in the dark.”

      Nana took her hand and started to speak, but couldn’t. She looked at Mrs. Brittle, who took up the narrative without a pause.

      “My husband is the sailing master on the Tireless, Lady Taunton,” she said. “He sent us a message by way of a coastal ship. The Tireless was on the receiving end of a real donnybrook by Ferrol Station.” Her voice hardened. “It wasn’t a fair fight, but Captain Worthy never backs away. The Tireless limped into Plymouth Sound and sank last night.”

      “My God!” Laura exclaimed, and felt her face go pale.

      She barely sensed his fingers at her throat, but in a few seconds, the surgeon had removed her bonnet and was waving her with it. “Deep breaths,” she said, and he smiled.

      “Oliver can swim,” Nana said, her voice dogged.

      “Apparently even with a wounded man on his back,” Lt. Brittle added, returning the bonnet to Laura. “He insisted my father deliver the news to Torquay as soon as possible, so Mrs. Worthy wouldn’t hear it from someone else. That is why we are here.”

      “The others? Your father?” Laura asked. “How are they?”

      Mrs. Brittle reached across Nana and touched Laura’s hand. “You sound like a West Country lass yourself, to care about jack-tars.”

      “I care,” she said softly.

      “You’ll watch over your little sister?” the surgeon asked, his voice matching hers for calmness in a way that utterly beguiled her, she who had listened to too many physicians blather.

      My little sister. “Aye. I’ll watch over my little sister.”

       Chapter Two

      After the Brittles left, Laura and Nana each burst into tears, then started to laugh, which only led to more tears and laughter.

      “I could not believe you wanted to see me, so I did not open your letter until two days ago,” Laura confessed.

      “Silly you.”

      Nana placed Laura’s hand on her belly. Laura held her breath as she felt the tiny motion under her fingertips.

      “The first time it happened, I thought it was my imagination,” Nana said. “It felt like a butterfly trapped on the other side of my shimmy.” She laughed. “Lt. Brittle said to give Baby Worthy a few months, and he, or she, will feel like a prisoner rattling a tin cup along the iron bars of the brig.”

      “The lieutenant’s a common one,” Laura said before she thought.

      “We’re all common, Laura,” was her sister’s quiet reply.

      It was not a rebuke; even on their short close acquaintance, Laura didn’t think Nana had a rebuke in her entire body. Hers was a statement of fact; they were a common lot. Laura felt another layer of self-deceit slide away.

      “Common we are.” She removed her hand. “I think you should lie down now.”

      If Laura expected mutiny, she got none.

      “I agree. The Brittles and I already had luncheon. I expect you haven’t, unless travel has suddenly become much more convenient.”

      “You know it hasn’t,” Laura said with a laugh. “Direct me to your housekeeper, and I will …” She went to the window. “My stars, I forgot about the chaise.”

      Nana was already settling herself on the sofa, her hand tucked against her belly. “Send them away, Laura.”

      “I don’t want to inconvenience you …” Laura began.

      “I’ll be more inconvenienced if you leave.” She gave Laura a look that was as calculating as it was a bluff. “Ladies in waiting are to be humored. Lt. Brittle told me so.”

      “He did no such thing,” Laura teased. “He looks far too practical for that.”

      “All the Brittles are practical,” Nana said, perfectly complacent to be found out and corrected. “Do you have pressing business in Taunton demanding your immediate attention?”

      She said it so gently that Laura felt the tears start in her eyes again. Since Sir James’s death, there had been not one demand on her time. If she showed up next week in Taunton or never again, no one would really care, except the servants she supported.

      “I have no business anywhere. I didn’t bring many clothes, though.”

      Nana sighed when Laura covered her with a light throw. When she replied, her voice was already drowsy. “In the bookroom, Mrs. Trelease will show you, there are paper, pens and ink. Write a note to your staff, tell them to collect more clothing, and hand the note to Joey Trelease. He’s a scamp but he loves to post letters quayside. Heaven knows he’s posted enough of mine.”

      Laura hesitated, and Nana narrowed her eyes. “I am she who commands.”

      “You and who else?” Laura teased. It was the mildest of banter, but she almost shivered with the pleasure of sharing it with a sister.

      Nana