Dr. Billings, in a white bobbed wig, stood outside. “A good day to you, Mrs. Wren, Mrs. Wren.”
“And to you, Dr. Billings,” Mother Wren answered for them both.
Anna led the doctor to her room.
Dr. Billings had to duck to enter the bedroom. He was a tall, gaunt gentleman with a bit of a permanent stoop. The tip of his bony nose was always pink, even in summer. “Well, what have we here?”
“A woman I found in distress, Dr. Billings,” Anna said. “Will you see if she is ill or injured?”
He cleared his throat. “If you’ll leave me alone with this person, Mrs. Wren, I’ll endeavor to examine her.”
Clearly, John had told Dr. Billings the manner of woman they had found.
“I think I shall remain, if you do not mind, Dr. Billings,” Anna said.
The doctor obviously did mind but could think of no reason to order Anna from the room. Despite his opinion of the patient, Dr. Billings was thorough but gentle in his examination. He looked down her throat and asked Anna to turn away so that he might scrutinize the sick woman’s chest.
Then he straightened the covers over her and sighed. “I think we had better discuss this downstairs.”
“Of course.” Anna led the way from the room and down the stairs, stopping to ask Fanny to bring some tea to the sitting room. Then she indicated the only armchair for the doctor and sat across from him on the edge of the tiny settee, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. Was the woman dying?
“She’s quite ill,” Dr. Billings began.
Anna leaned forward. “Yes?”
The doctor avoided her eyes. “She has a fever, perhaps an infection of the lungs. She’ll need some bed rest to recover.”
He hesitated and then apparently saw the alarm in Anna’s face. “Oh, it is nothing grave, I assure you, Mrs. Wren. She’ll recover. She just needs time to heal.”
“I am most relieved.” Anna smiled. “I thought from your manner that the disease was fatal.”
“Indeed not.”
“Thank God.”
Dr. Billings rubbed his finger along the side of his thin nose. “I’ll send some men around immediately when I get home. She’ll need to be taken to the poorhouse for care, of course.”
Anna frowned. “But I thought you understood, Dr. Billings. We wish to nurse her here at the cottage.”
A red stain seeped up the doctor’s face. “Nonsense. It is entirely inappropriate for you and the elder Mrs. Wren to care for a woman of that sort.”
She set her jaw. “I’ve discussed it with my mother-in-law, and we are both in agreement that we will care for the lady in our home.”
Dr. Billings’s face was now completely red. “It is quite out of the question.”
“Doctor—”
But Dr. Billings interrupted her. “She’s a prostitute!”
Anna forgot what she was about to say and closed her mouth. She stared at the doctor and saw the truth in his countenance: this was how the majority of the people in Little Battleford would react.
She took a deep breath. “We’ve decided to take care of the woman. Her profession doesn’t change that fact.”
“You must see reason, Mrs. Wren,” the doctor grumbled. “It’s impossible for you to care for that creature.”
“Her condition is not contagious, is it?”
“No, no, probably not anymore,” he admitted.
“Well, then, there is no reason we can’t care for her.” Anna smiled grimly.
Fanny chose that moment to bring in the tea. Anna poured for the doctor and herself, trying to remain as serene as possible. She wasn’t used to having arguments with gentlemen, and she found it was most hard to remain resolute and not apologize. It was a rather unsettling feeling, knowing the doctor disagreed with her course, that in fact he disapproved of her. At the same time, she couldn’t repress a clandestine thrill. How exhilarating to speak her mind frankly, uncaring of a man’s opinion! Really, she ought to feel ashamed at the thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. No, not at all.
They drank the tea in a charged silence, the good doctor having apparently decided he wasn’t going to change her mind. After finishing his cup, Dr. Billings fished a small brown bottle out of his bag and gave it to Anna with instructions on how to administer the medication. Then the doctor crammed his hat on his head and wound a lavender muffler around his neck several times.
He halted by the front door as Anna was showing him out. “If you change your mind, Mrs. Wren, please call on me. I’ll find an appropriate place for the young woman.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. She closed the door after the doctor and leaned against it, her shoulders slumping.
Mother Wren entered the hall and studied Anna. “What does she have, my dear?”
“A fever and infection of the lungs.” Anna looked at her wearily. “Perhaps it would be better if you and Fanny stayed with friends until this is over.”
Mother Wren raised her brows. “Who would look after her during the day while you are at Ravenhill?”
Anna stared, suddenly stricken. “I’d forgotten that.”
Mother Wren shook her head. “Is it really necessary to stir up this amount of trouble, my dear?”
“I’m sorry.” Anna looked down and noticed a grass stain on her skirts. It wouldn’t come out—grass stains never did. “I don’t mean to drag you into my mess.”
“Then why not take the doctor’s help? It’s so much easier to simply do what people expect of you, Anna.”
“It may be easier, but it isn’t necessarily the right way, Mother. Surely you can see that?” She looked at her mother-in-law pleadingly, trying to find the words to explain. Her actions had made complete sense when she’d been staring at the woman’s sickly face in the ditch. Now, with Mother Wren waiting so patiently, it was harder to articulate her logic. “I’ve always done what was expected, haven’t I? Whether or not it was the right thing to do.”
The older woman frowned. “But you’ve never done anything wrong—”
“But that’s not the point, is it?” Anna bit her lip and found to her horror that she was close to tears. “If I’ve never stepped outside the role that’s been assigned to me since birth, I’ve never tested myself. I’ve been too afraid of others’ opinions, I think. I’ve been a coward. If that woman needs me, why not help her—for her… and for me?”