Charity and Sacrifice

  Charity and Sacrifice

  A Novel Byte

  By

  Gloria Oliver

  Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon

  2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-220-9

  Charity and Sacrifice

  Copyright © 2016 by Gloria Oliver

  Cover design

  Copyright © 2016 by Judith B. Glad

  Wedding: Bigstock / Copyright: mikle

  Letter X: Bigstock / Copyright: Zoom-zoom

  All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five (5) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Published by Uncial Press,

  an imprint of GCT, Inc.

  Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

  Charity and Sacrifice

  "Scalpel."

  Elizabeth handed the sharp instrument into her husband's waiting palm. He didn't even bother to glance her way as he took it. She sighed quietly to herself, making sure not to disturb him or his work.

  Years ago, when she'd first offered to assist him, it'd been her hope sharing in his interests would bring them closer together. It never occurred to her it might do the total opposite.

  She stifled another sigh, and dripped more chloroform on the mask of their unconscious patient. The drops' sweet scent was more aromatic than the vase of fresh flowers in the waiting room of her husband's surgery. It even clung to the air long after the anesthetic was absorbed by the cloth of the mask. Yet unlike flowers, chloroform had the power to allow others to be oblivious as delicate work was done to their bodies. Unlike the scent of flowers, too much of it had the power to kill.

  She shifted her weight, and her unborn baby's foot pressed hard against her ribs, as if protesting the smell or the direction of her thoughts. Ignoring the throbbing ache in her lower back, she rubbed her belly, hoping to quiet him or her.

  "Lizzie!"

  She startled at Robert's bark, the babe giving her a hard kick in response. "Yes?"

  "Gauze woman! Can't you see?"

  A thin stream of blood glared accusingly at her from where it escaped the patient's abdominal incision. Grabbing one of the small clumps of gauze she'd prepared before the surgery, she quickly sopped up the blood, leaving the area around the incision clear once more.

  Despite his original reticence at her request to be allowed to help him at his practice, Robert had indulged her and let her try to prove she could be useful to him in his work. How ecstatic she'd been! For the benefit of their happiness and their marriage, she'd neglected her social obligations, studied as hard as she could, and pushed herself past the varied odors and the grisly sights his work often exposed her to. For him, she'd accepted ridicule and scorn from her high ranking peers, sure the rewards would make it all worthwhile.

  She now understood so much more about muscles, bones, blood, heart, lungs, and all the other bizarre pieces that formed what God had made. What God had allowed to be made inside her. Yet despite all her efforts, matters hadn't gone exactly as she hoped.

  "Clamp." The hand twisted in her direction with the palm up, expectant. Elizabeth handed over the requested tool, fighting not to let her spirits drop as Robert once more didn't acknowledge her in any way.

  Even as she came to understand the wonders and the pitfalls of Robert's world, as her admiration and love for him grew as he donated time and resources to those less fortunate, he'd pulled away from her. Her new skills and knowledge taken for granted and as his due rather than as her achievements, getting her treated as if she were no more than a new maid.

  She caressed her swollen abdomen, the boy or girl inside her last hope to bring them closer together. If nothing else, it would give her a chance to shower with affection someone who'd love her back, without judgment or expectations.

  "There's the bloody bugger."

  Elizabeth pushed the instrument table closer, knowing even simple surgeries could get complicated at a moment's notice. Her husband's sure hands did their work, even as he barked commands at her in quick succession.

  She'd just wiped away some fluid from where he was closing the original incision when a sharp pain stabbed her from back to front.

  "Ro— Robert... Something's wrong."

  "What are you talking about, Lizzie? The appendectomy went flawlessly."

  The pain spiked, and then spread like acid through her system. "Help me."

  The look of shock on his face as he finally turned to look at her brought her a momentary flash of satisfaction and was the last thing she saw before her legs gave out and she dropped to the floor.

  * * * *

  "Does she know?"

  Elizabeth opened her eyes, confusion fluttering about in her mind like a moth over a flame. Something wasn't right. She wasn't where she should be. Though where that actually was, she couldn't quite remember.

  "No. The poor thing hasn't awakened yet."

  She was in bed, despite the fact bright sunlight flooded over her from a tall window. It wasn't her bed, though, and it was terribly narrow. The stark white sheets should be paisley and soft as silk instead of rough and smelling of disinfectant.

  "She'll be devastated."

  Elizabeth frowned. Not at the words, which dribbled like background noise into her consciousness, but at the blue framed privacy screen with more starched white fabric. It meant something, of that she was sure. If only her head would stop pounding, she might be able to figure out what.

  "Charity for charity's sake is one thing, but we both know at times 'charity' has had nothing to do with it."

  Those voices... She knew them, didn't she? From the hospital?

  "Ada, Judith, I think you both have better things to do than stand around gossiping." The deep tone of disapproval dampened the air.

  "Yes, doctor."

  "Of course, doctor."

  Hurried footsteps echoed off the stone floor until they were gone. Only once there was silence did someone shift the screen to enter.

  "Lady Stainton?"

  After a drawn out moment, she realized the question had been aimed at her. "Dr. Benley?" Her tongue felt swollen, making it difficult to speak. Her headache and confusion, though, had eased. Yet as he extended the screen back again to give them privacy, she felt a stab of foreboding.

  It doubled when he pulled over a chair and sat beside her bed.

  "My dear..." He took her hand to hold between his own. His mustache jiggled as he struggled for words. "Be assured that you're quite all right. A few days of bedrest and some medicine will have you right as rain." His sad smile told her there was more, a lot more.

  She wanted to ask. She needed to ask. But she dared not. The hollow, empty feeling rising from the dull ache in her midriff told her it would not be to her liking.

  "I am very sorry, Lady Stainton. We did all we could, but..." He set her hand back on the bed, as if distancing himself from the failure.

  Elizabeth couldn't see him anymore. Her eyes burned as she tried to hold back showing any emotion. A harsh, scathing wind blew inside her ears, though there was no breeze. She would have ca
lled him Henry, if the baby had been a boy. Henrietta, if a girl. But now it would be neither.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, trying hard to focus, to pay attention, to push the rising pain to the side, because she had to know why. There had to be a reason for this. "Every, everything was going well. What happened?"

  Benley looked away, rubbing the heels of his hands on his trousers. "Unexpected complications, my dear. Unexpected... complications..."

  He stood as if to leave.

  "What does that mean?" She couldn't bring herself to say the other words. Tell me why I lost my baby?

  "Later perhaps. When you've rested." He nodded as if she'd already agreed to it. "You've been through a great ordeal. So you need to concentrate on healing right now. There'll be plenty of time for details later. Yes, later."

  Before she could rally and question him further, he half bowed and departed, leaving her trapped behind her wall of screens. From the speed of his departure, later might be a long time coming.

  * * * *

  "Dear, you have to eat something. Don't you want to get better?" Ada once more offered a spoonful of porridge.

  Propped up with hard pillows, Elizabeth could sit at an angle. Millie, her personal maid, had come by earlier and brought her a proper dressing gown as well as a brush and pins. The proprieties must be maintained despite the tragedy. She knew Robert would expect it. And it was the only armor left to her at present.

  Chastised, she opened her mouth to take the offered food, though she wasn't hungry and felt mortified to be treated like a child. A child...

  Elizabeth's eyes teared up but she refused to be embarrassed further by her own weakness.

  "Has he been to see you yet?" The nurse's eyes gleamed with curiosity.

  "To whom do you refer?" She suspected, but she wouldn't help feed the rumor mill any more than necessary.

  "Lord Stainton, your husband."

  Elizabeth refused to meet her gaze. "I've been sleeping a lot, but I am sure he's come. He wouldn't wake me, knowing I need the rest."

  Ada's eyes widened with feigned surprise. "Oh, that could be it, couldn't it?" She fed Elizabeth another spoonful.

  "He's a very busy man." Elizabeth wanted to bite her own tongue, knowing the excuse for what it was, and well aware the nurse did as well. "I've had enough, thank you."

  "Are you sure, dear?" Ada leaned forward as if to feed her again, except she left the spoon in the bowl. She stared intently at Elizabeth, her next words voiced in a whisper. "There are things you should know that you've not been told."

  Elizabeth's eye twitched. The hollow hole inside her pulsed with need and apprehension. She presumed Benley was receiving news of her condition from the nurses as well as using them to pass on his orders.

  Her gently worded requests for him to visit were just as gently denied. The suspicion something was being hidden from her had hardened into solid fact. Yet she still possessed no information.

  To be forced to gain it from the likes of Ada... Everything that ever poured from the woman's mouth was suspect. She'd watched her long enough to learn that much.

  But how else was she to even glean a hint as to what was being kept from her? "Is that so?"

  Ada leaned forward a little more. "I could get in trouble sharing what I know." The nurse smiled at her, expectation tightening the lines on her face. "But a token, a valuable token, would go a long way toward easing my concerns. Think of it as a bit of charity to someone less fortunate than yourself."

  Charity? Extortion was more like it. Elizabeth wanted to grab her bowl and shove its contents in the old hag's face. Yet something in the back of her mind niggled at the word. It had been used in her presence recently... "I might have something at home which would satisfy you. I'll have it brought for the morrow."

  Ada stood up to go. "My old heart bleeds with gratitude, milady. I'll be sure to tell you all I know, once your charity has been received."

  Elizabeth clutched her blanket until her hands went numb, sure the nurse was laughing at her as she bowed her way out.

  * * * *

  Sleep wouldn't come, despite her desperate need for rest. Even when she managed to drift off, it was never for long. What few dreams she had were strangely cruel. She saw a happy, healthy, round-faced little imp playing with his father, smiling at Robert, who smiled back, like he'd done when he'd courted her all those years ago. Then she'd wake; the taste of happiness still on her tongue and quickly turning into ash.

  So she stayed awake, closing her eyes and trying her hardest to think of nothing. If a nurse came to check on her, she didn't move, didn't react, dreading what other offers or mysterious bait the other nurses might decide to try to tantalize her with, to prey on her in her time of pain.

  She'd given Millie explicit orders on what to bring. The lie that she wanted to look her best for Robert had fallen easily enough from her lips. The pity and sadness on her maid's face had done the rest. Elizabeth planned to use one of her few heirlooms, one which had belonged to her mother. Something Robert would never inquire after or expect her to wear in the few social functions they attended.

  If Ada played her false, it would also give her an avenue to implicate the woman in theft if she so wished. She'd teach the vile creature not to toy with the emotions of the patients. But if the woman were true to her word, she'd be able to excuse the loss to Millie and it would never come to Robert's attention.

  Aside from the occasional moan of unseen patients or the tapping footsteps of the nurses doing their rounds, the evening was still. So she was surprised when she heard muted footsteps stop outside her privacy screens. Who could it be? The steps were not those of the nurses' shoes. Had Robert finally deigned to check on her? The sting and the heat of the thought surprised her, but made it burn no less.

  As the visitor moved the screens and came forward, Elizabeth opened her eyes. "Dr. Benley!"

  The short man jerked back. Something glinted in his hand. "La-Lady Stainton. You're awake."

  His mustache quivered in equal admonition and despair, as if she were an incorrigible, errant child. The heat inside her turned into a cold flame.

  "What is in your hand, doctor? Is that a syringe?"

  He jerked again, his hand automatically hiding behind his back. A moment later, he sighed deeply and brought it back where she could see. "Yes. And it's for you." He came forward. "So if you'll allow it, I will administer it and then leave you to your sleep."

  "What's in it? Why do I need it?"

  Benley wouldn't meet her gaze. "Please, Lady Stainton. It's bad enough you've caught me skulking, must you also press me for details?"

  She pursed her lips and just stared at him, unwilling to give him an easy way out.

  His mustache quaked, and then drooped; his shoulders slumped in defeat. "It is a light mixture of mercury and a couple of other things. It will help fight the disease."

  "Disease? What disease?"

  Benley blanched. "Err, truly, Lady Stainton, I cannot speak of this with you. I'm terribly sorry, I know it is horribly unfair, but I just cannot. Please try to understand my position in this matter."

  It had something to do with Robert. Why else would Benley be in such a state? But it made no sense. A disease had taken her child? What disease? She'd not felt ill recently, except for the usual things one might expect with a pregnancy. So then what...?

  "Please, Lady Stainton." His mustache trembled with his distress.

  She nodded, having much to think about and pretty sure Benley would tell her nothing more. And she had other means at her disposal to gain information, did she not?

  Elizabeth barely felt the sting of the needle as it pierced her skin. What was this minor discomfort to the wound in her soul? But a disease? She'd lost her child due to a disease? How could that be?

  * * * *

  "Lizzie."

  Elizabeth jumped, not having heard her husband move the privacy screen. She'd been too absorbed going over the odd events of the previous evening. Millie ha
d already helped her with her toiletries, so she was presentable. And the heirloom for today's distasteful dealings lay hidden beneath her pillows and within easy reach.

  "Robert..." Happiness welled at seeing him, but the yawing sadness she'd been fighting to ignore and the guilt for what had happened drowned it before it was more than a twinkle. She could read nothing in his closed expression. It was the same neutral countenance he used with terminal patients.

  "Millie, please leave us for a time." He didn't glance at her maid, his posture giving the impression she'd best not think of disobeying.

  "Of course, milord." Millie curtsied and rushed from the enclosed space as if she was more than pleased to be anywhere else.

  "I hear you've been causing Dr. Benley a bit of trouble." Disapproval poured from him in waves. "We cannot have that."

  Elizabeth stared at him in unveiled astonishment. "But Robert—"

  "No excuses!" He loomed over her. "You've done quite enough to disrupt our lives already."

  The shock of his words, of how he'd encapsulated her loss, their loss, to a simple disruption, stabbed her deeply, so deeply her control slipped and tears welled in her eyes. They'd lost their child! Their future! And this was all that tragedy meant to him? A disruption?

  "Lizzie, please. Must you get emotional?" His disdain slapped her hard, tearing at what little control she'd been able to seize.

  "But Robert..."

  "This needs to be kept quiet. It was bad enough when I indulged you by letting you help with the work. Worse, when I believed you when you insisted you were all right to continue, even after your pregnancy became evident. But look where all that has brought us."

  Who was this man? Where had her Robert gone?

  "The loss of our child is disaster enough, but the fact you'll be unable to give me any progeny whatsoever..."

  For a moment, Elizabeth forgot to breathe. "I...I don't understand..."

  Her head throbbed violently. Everything closed in around her. Robert's scowling face grew until it seemed to dominate everything.

  "Really, Elizabeth. Need I be any more clear?"