The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(86)

The labored voice diverted Rosie from her inner debate. It came again, and, warily, she followed it into a room to her left. A redheaded woman around Rosie’s age lay upon a cot. She wore a shift, a sheet draped over her burgeoned belly, her pretty freckled face twisted in pain.

“’Oo are you?” she gasped.

“Oh, hello there. I’m, um, a friend of Mr. Corbett’s.” Relieved at the lack of any visible bodily fluids, Rosie said, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“More w-water.” The woman gestured to the empty glass on the bedside table.

Spotting a pitcher on the washstand, Rosie went to refill the glass. She returned, helping the woman to sit up. “Have some sips.” She held the glass to the other’s lips. “Easy does it.”

After drinking, the other sank back against the pillows. “Thank ye, miss. The pain comes in waves, but it’s passed fer now.”

“I’m glad. And, please, call me Rosie. You are…?”

“Name’s Sally, miss.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sally.” She went back to the washstand, returning with a wet towel, which she placed on the other’s sweaty forehead. “Is that better?”

“Yes, and ’aving company ’elps, Wish me ma were ’ere, but she passed.” Sally’s hazel eyes turned rueful. “Though she might turn in ’er grave if she knew I were in this pickle.”

Knowing a thing or two about maternal disapproval, Rosie squeezed the other’s hand in silent empathy.

Apparently eager to chat, Sally went on, “’Ave you known our Mr. Corbett long?”

“Most of my life,” Rosie said honestly.

“Fine gent, ain’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”

“And the best employer I ever ’ad. I didn’t catch this,”—she pointed to her sheet-covered belly—“from Corbett’s, you know. It were from another establishment. The minute they found out me condition, I was shown the door. Found myself in dire straits, I did, and it were a miracle Mr. Corbett took me in. ’E wanted to put me in the kitchens, but I told ’im, Scrubbin’ pots ain’t fer me. I got other talents.” She winked. “Turns out some coves’ll pay extra for a wench wif extra, if ye catch me meaning.”

“Oh… well.” Flummoxed at how to respond to that, Rosie changed the subject. “So, um, if your mama were here, what would she do for you?”

“She’d sing. Whene’er me or one o’ my brothers or sisters were ill, she’d give us a tune, and it’d make things—ooh.” Her grip on Rosie’s hand tightened like a vise. “Oh, Lord, it’s comin’ again.”

“Shall I fetch someone?” Rosie said quickly.

“No, don’t leave me.” Sally broke off, her face contorting.

Screams came from across the hall, and Rosie knew that Andrew had his hands full. Desperation filled her as she looked at the woman groaning in the bed, the hand clutching hers. What could she do to help?

Impulse took over; she sang the first lines that came to her:



What's this dull town to me

When Robin’s not near

What was't I wish'd to see

What wish'd to hear



When she paused, Sally panted, “That’s pretty, miss. Give us another verse, then.”

So she did. When she finished the ballad, Sally asked for more, so she sang a Scottish air. Then another song. Her recital was accompanied by Sally’s heavy breaths and occasional groans. She’d gone through half her repertoire and was starting to feel like Scheherazade when Sally bit out, “Ye got to get ’old of the babe now.”

“Pardon?” Rosie squeaked.

“Grab the babe—it’s comin’ out.” Sally grimaced, shoving off the sheet and revealing her shift-clad body. “Me water came a few songs back, and I’ve been pushing since. The babe’s ready.”

The last word came out in a howl, propelling Rosie to her feet. “I’ll go get Mr. Corbett—”

“Ain’t no time,” Sally yelled. “Get it now.”

Panicked, Rosie dashed to the end of the bed. Dear Lord.

The baby was coming out of Sally. There was no time to faint, to do anything but act. She reached out and caught the wet slippery head as it slipped out.

“I’ve got the head,” she managed.

Sally grunted, her heels digging into the mattress.

“Can you push a bit harder?” Sweat glazed Rosie’s brow. “The shoulders seem to be stuck…”

Sally gnashed her teeth and bore down. Without warning, the babe popped out on a wave of liquid. With a shriek of surprise, Rosie caught the little body. Heart thumping, she stared at the breathing, tiny human she held in her hands.

“Is it…?”

The babe let out a high-pitched wail.

“A girl.” Rosie placed the babe in Sally’s arms, taking care not to tangle the purplish cord that still connected the two. “Oh, Sally, you have a beautiful daughter.”

“She is a sight, ain’t she?” Sally breathed.

“Sally, are you all right? I heard…”

Rosie whirled around to see Andrew rushing into the room. He stopped short as Sally, sweaty and beaming with pride, announced, “I ’ave a daughter, Mr. Corbett.”