The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part Two

by Farmer, Merry

  “But the way you looked at me,” Winnie went on, beginning to cry. “Those secret smiles you sent me.”

  “I sent no smiles.”

  “You did, you did,” she insisted, stomping her foot. “And you were so kind to me.”

  “As a physician, it is important for me to treat all of my patients with kindness and care,” Marshall explained.

  “But I was special,” Winnie wept on. “I meant something more to you, I know I did.”

  It seemed excessively cruel, but there was nothing for Marshall to say but, “No, you did not. Again, the only woman that I do or ever could love is my wife, Mrs. Pycroft.”

  “You’re lying,” Winnie snapped, her grief turning to rage so fast that Marshall took a step back. “You’ve been false with me this whole time. You made promises, and now you’re breaking them.”

  “I made no such promises.”

  She advanced on him, fists clenched. “You did. You promised me you would cast that witch of a female doctor aside to be with me.”

  Marshall’s eyes went wide. “I absolutely did not.”

  “You did. And now you’re tossing me into the street without a penny to my name and without hope.”

  “Ah, yes, well there may be something we can do about that,” Marshall said, itching with awkwardness and desperate to end the scene and go home. “I’m sure the hospital can provide you with all the wages you’ve earned while living and working here along with a generous stipend that will get you started in whatever you choose to pursue next.”

  “Money?” Winnie shrieked. “You promise me a beautiful life, and now you throw money at me and tell me to go? Like some common whore who you’ve used and discarded?”

  “Come on, now,” Marshall said firmly, praying a harder approach would work. “You know that nothing of the sort ever happened. Go and get your things. I expect you to be gone from the hospital before Mrs. Pycroft and I return in the morning.”

  “You are, you are throwing me out on the street,” Winnie said, voice raised, stepping into the hall. Nurse Nyman was passing and stopped in her tracks to gape at the scene. “You’re casting me off callously when I have nowhere to go and nothing to do.”

  “You’re a resourceful woman,” Marshall said through a tight jaw, glancing sideways at Nurse Nyman and feeling like far more of a villain than he should have. He was doing this for Alex, doing it so that they could find some peace together. “You’ll find your way, I’m sure.”

  “But I love you,” Winnie yelped, drawing more attention from the wards at the end of the hall. Several heads were poking out from doors and corners to see what was going on. “I love you and I’d do anything for you.”

  Marshall cleared his throat and stood taller, painfully aware of his audience. “As I have told you on numerous occasions, my heart belongs exclusively to my wife. Any connection you may have perceived between us was an imagination on your part. It needs to end. It’s time for you to go.”

  “But I’ll die without you,” Winnie wailed, weeping once more. “I’ll kill myself, that’s what I’ll do.”

  Alarm rang through Marshall, and with it panic. “You will not kill yourself,” he ordered her, no idea how the situation had spun so far out of control so fast. “You will be a good, sensible girl and find a new life.”

  “I’ll kill myself,” Winnie insisted, stomping her foot. “If you don’t take me back and make me your own, I have nothing left to live for.”

  “As I’ve said many times now, this connection you feel between us is purely imaginary. I love my wife and her alone. Please stop this nonsense.” No matter what Marshall said, he was certain the situation was beyond salvaging.

  “I’ll kill myself,” Winnie repeated, only this time she rushed to the stairs and started down. “Then you’ll be sorry. Then you’ll see. You’ll rue the day you ever rejected my love.” She fled in a flurry of tears.

  “Your things,” Marshall called after her. “Your wages.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets them,” Mrs. Garforth said, coming up the stairs. It was clear she’d heard the whole exchange. In a rare show of support, her expression was sympathetic. “You did the right thing, Dr. Pycroft.” She turned to the curious onlookers at the end of the hall and repeated, “He did the right thing.”

  The murmurs and mutterings from patients as they slipped back into their wards left Marshall wondering if that’s the way the story would be told when it was repeated and repeated and made its way into town gossip. There was no telling who would end up as the hero and who the villain of the story.

  “It’s time for me to go home,” he told Mrs. Garforth in a weary voice.

  “I should say it was,” Mrs. Garforth returned with a curt nod, back to her usual, disapproving self.

  Marshall headed down to the office to change his medical coat for his thick, winter coat and muffler. He slipped out of the hospital before anyone could grab him and ask about the scene with Winnie. For a change, the chilly bite in the air felt like a balm after the uncomfortable heat of the confrontation.

  His nerves had almost settled by the time he approached his front door. They jangled all over again at the sight of Mother Grace and little Elsie striding up the hill. They met in front of his house.

  “Why are you here?” Marshall asked without introduction. It was rude, he knew, but Mother Grace was the last thing he needed right then and there.

  “Your girls are home,” she said. “I’ve come to see them, to welcome them,” Mother Grace replied with as much shortness as Marshall had used. “But perhaps you’re the one who needs a friendly face and a comforting brew.”

  Marshall muttered under his breath about useless gestures and pointless concoctions as he opened the front door and stepped inside. “What I need is a cup of tea with a drop of something stronger in it and an evening of peace and quiet.”

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth when twin shrieks of laughter from Molly and Martha split the air. The two of them tore from the kitchen to the parlor, each holding a doll, and looking as though they were pretending to ride horses. Little Elsie broke into a smile at the sight of them. But it was Alex, seated in a chair by the fire, a book in hand and a long-suffering expression pinching her face, that caught his attention.

  “Girls, please,” she said. “Isn’t there any way to play quietly?”

  “We’re being chased by brigands,” Molly announced.

  “Yes, but could they chase you elsewhere perhaps?” Alex asked.

  The brigands ceased to matter a moment later. Molly and Martha spotted Marshall, let out high-pitched cries, and charged to him, nearly bowling him over in their haste to hug him.

  “Papa, Papa!” they shouted. “Papa’s home. And Grandmama Grace.”

  Marshall couldn’t help but smile and hug his girls back, but he also sent Alex an apologetic look as she set her book aside and rose from her chair. “Yes, Papa’s home,” he said. “Have you been behaving yourself for Alex?”

  The girls ignored him, rushing to hug Mother Grace instead. “Grandmama, Grandmama! Who have you brought for us?”

  “Hello, my sweetings.” Mother Grace hugged each of the girls thoroughly as Marshall removed his coat and hat and headed into the parlor to Alex.

  “This is Elsie,” Mother Grace made the introduction. “She’s Matty’s little sister, and she’s been staying with me.”

  “Matty has a sister?” Martha asked.

  “Matty! You didn’t tell me you had a sister,” Molly shouted at the top of her lungs.

  “Have they been like this all afternoon?” Marshall asked Alex, kissing her lightly and sliding his arm around her waist. It was a gesture that was, perhaps, too informal when they had company, but he needed the comfort of Alex close to him.

  “Yes,” Alex answered in a flat voice, arching one brow.

  “I have two sisters,” Matty said, waddling into the parlor. She smiled at the sight of Elsie and held out her arms. “Elsie. What are you doing here?”


  Marshall’s brow went up. He hadn’t realized Matty was there. He hadn’t realized she was so close to her time either. She looked as though she was ready to burst at any moment.

  Elsie broke away from Martha and Molly. Apparently, she still wasn’t speaking, but she was smiling broadly at Martha and Molly. She rushed to Matty, hugging her side.

  “Did you walk all this way by yourself?” Marshall asked Matty.

  “No,” Matty laughed. “Lawrence shadowed me the entire way. He said he was going on to the hotel to say hello to Mr. Throckmorton from here.”

  Marshall nodded in understanding as Matty explained to Elsie, “These are my friends. I’m sure you’ll be friends with them as well.”

  “So it’s a full house, then?” Marshall asked Alex in a quiet voice as the introductions continued.

  “Almost from the moment I returned home,” Alex said.

  “Grandmama,” Mary exclaimed, coming into the room, wiping her hands on the apron she wore. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  “Mary, my darling. Look at you,” Mother Grace said, cutting through the crowded parlor to hug her. “You’ve grown.”

  “I wish the girls would stop calling her ‘Grandmama’,” Marshall muttered. He raised his voice to say, “And why do you look as though you’ve been scrubbing pots instead of reading your lessons, like I insisted you do if you plan to stay home and keep house?” He frowned at Mary.

  “Matty was reading them to me as I started supper,” Mary answered, sending a haughty glance Alex’s way.

  Inwardly, Marshall rolled his eyes. Whatever idea of domestic bliss he’d had for when his girls were home and Alex was part of their lives had been dented almost from the start. He hadn’t counted on his eldest being as stubborn as she’d become.

  “And you, Matty, should have taken time to come see me,” Mother Grace said, moving away from Mary to study Matty and rest her hand on Matty’s stomach. “You’re getting very close indeed.”

  It irritated Marshall that Mother Grace had come to the same conclusion he had. “Perhaps you should stay in town, at the hospital, even, in case you go into labor and are unable to send for me or Alex in time.”

  Mother Grace whirled on him as though he’d suggested Matty dip her feet in tar. “I will be delivering this baby,” she said, a look in her eyes that brooked no argument.

  “Why go through the trouble when there are trained medical professionals on hand?” Marshall argued.

  “I have delivered more babies than you have, young man,” Mother Grace replied, planting her fists on her hips. “Women have delivered babies for centuries.”

  “And hospitals are better able to care for delivering mothers than untrained, so-called midwives out in the woods,” Marshall growled.

  “A comment like that only proves how little you know about bringing life into the world.” Mother Grace turned back to Matty, resting a hand on her stomach. “He’s definitely ready to come, this one.”

  “The world of medicine has advanced leaps and bounds beyond your superstitious concoctions and chants,” Marshall insisted. “And now you think you can determine the sex of the baby by, what? Burning incense at the full moon?”

  “Marshall,” Alex whispered, reaching for his hand. “Is it worth the argument?”

  “It’s the way she’s carrying,” Mother Grace replied in a flat tone. “You wouldn’t understand.” She pierced him with a final look of challenge before turning to Matty and ignoring him completely. “I didn’t come to argue about babies, I came to hear all about London.”

  “It was dreadful,” Mary said.

  “It wasn’t so bad,” Molly argued. She took Mother Grace’s hand and led her to the sofa. “They had ice cream there.”

  “Ice cream,” Mother Grace exclaimed. “Well, well.”

  “Do you like dolls?” Martha asked Elsie as Molly went on about the joys of London and Mary groaned about every one.

  Elsie nodded, and Martha handed her Dolly. The two of them sat down to play in the center of the room. Matty managed to wedge her way into the chair Alex had vacated. The way she moved concerned Marshall, but he had other things on his mind.

  He nodded for Alex to come with him out of the room. As the visit with Mother Grace continued, they crossed into the dining room and made their way down to the far end.

  “I’ve dismissed Winnie,” Marshall said, keeping his voice low, even though no one was there to disturb them.

  “Thank God.” Alex breathed a sigh of relief and pressed a hand to her forehead.

  “You might want to hold off on that relief,” Marshall went on in a dire tone. He hadn’t anticipated feeling so awkward when he reported the story. “She made a scene.”

  “Did she?” Alex dropped her hand from her forehead to her stomach.

  “She accused me of being false with her, leading her on.”

  “But you never did,” Alex insisted.

  It was a small relief to know that Alex believed him. “I know that and you do, but apparently Winnie doesn’t. Now I’m anxious about how many others will see her side of the story.”

  “Oh dear.” Alex seemed to grasp the situation faster than he had.

  “There’s more,” he went on with a frown. “She threatened to kill herself because I rejected her.”

  “She wouldn’t, would she?”

  Marshall shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Alex finished with a sigh.

  It seemed so unjust for yet another wave of problems to beset them every time one set of difficulties was solved, but that, Marshall supposed, was life. He leaned into Alex, circling his arms around her and holding her close.

  “We have a moment to ourselves,” he said, brushing one hand up her side to cradle her breast. “I can think of some things we could do with it.”

  He leaned in to kiss her, but she avoided him with a laugh. “We’ve a parlor full of guests.”

  “They’re not guests,” he argued, staring at her lips. “Matty is Mary’s closest friend, and Mother Grace is…a nuisance.”

  “I thought you were close,” Alex said. Marshall could tell by the shifting tension in her body that she was losing the will to resist him.

  “That doesn’t mean she’s not a nuisance,” he said.

  His words were forgotten as soon as they were out of his mouth. He swooped in and stole the kiss he’d been longing for, reveling in the victory of Alex returning the kiss. Logic and his experience with Clara told him he’d grow tired of kissing her eventually, but his heart didn’t see how that was possible. As far as he was concerned, he would never be able to get enough of Alex.

  “It was not,” Molly’s shout came from the other room. “Stop being so hateful.”

  “It was too,” Mary snapped, just as loud. “You just forget.”

  “Was not.”

  “Was too.”

  “Was not.”

  The girls grew louder and louder.

  Marshall sighed and let Alex go, raking an exasperated hand through his hair before turning and heading for the parlor. “I know I wanted them back,” he said. “But I’d forgotten how loud they could be.”

  Matty

  Matty inched back in her chair, watching Mary and Molly bicker and feeling as though she was somewhere she shouldn’t be.

  “Grandpapa was dreadful,” Mary said, crossing her arms and scowling at her sister. “Even you must admit that.”

  “Even if he was,” Molly shot back, “Mrs. Cleevers was lovely.”

  “And who is Mrs. Cleevers?” Mother Grace asked, sending a knowing look to Matty.

  While Matty was certain Mother Grace was trying to include her, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be part of things. Her thoughts shifted to Lawrence, and she started counting the minutes until she could join him.

  “She was the governess Grandpapa hired to tutor us,” Mary explained. “He didn’t want us attending regular school, though he was planning to send us to boarding school eventually. He barely w
anted us to leave the house while we were with him.”

  “Hmm,” Mother Grace hummed. “It’s a good thing you’re home, then, and a good thing you can return to school.”

  “Mary hasn’t gone back to school,” Molly said as though tattling on her sister.

  “No?” Mother Grace glanced to Marshall, who had appeared with Alex at his side in the parlor doorway.

  Mary lifted her chin and said, “Someone has to take care of Papa.”

  Matty sank farther into her chair, doing everything she could think of not to be seen. Not a half hour ago, Mary had whispered her complaints about the new Mrs. Pycroft to her, about how horrid it was that Alex was doing nothing a wife should do, how every bit of the housework had fallen on Mary’s shoulders, how Dr. Pycroft paid more attention to his new wife than to Mary, and how Mary had heard sounds coming from their room at night. The litany of complaints had highlighted the difference in Mary and Matty’s ages—Matty knew full well there were reasons a man took a wife that had nothing to do with cooking and cleaning—but it wasn’t her place to explain them. Just as it wasn’t really her place to sit in on the family argument now.

  “Your papa has done a good job of taking care of himself and the lot of you for quite some time now,” Mother Grace reminded Mary. “And Dr. Dyson has a very important job at the hospital.”

  “That she does,” Marshall said, taking Alexandra’s hand.

  Mary humphed and crossed her arms tighter, looking put out.

  Matty hid a wince. She was reminded too much of the problems she and her mother had when Hoag had taken an unsavory interest in her. It didn’t matter that her mother had grown to despise Hoag at that point, she’d seen Matty as competition.

  “Perhaps there are some things I could learn that I’d be able to do when I’m not at the hospital,” Alexandra suggested. “We can all share the load.”

  “Mary doesn’t like to share,” Molly said, a wicked glint in her eyes.

  “That’s not true.” Mary fell back into bickering with Molly. “You’re the one who can’t share.”

  “That’s not fair,” Molly said.