Blood Blade Sisters Series (22 page)

Truth to tell, she’d need one more for efficiency’s sake than for propriety. Her new home was a far cry from the ranch house she’d grown up in. She’d need a full staff to keep the place from crumbling like a broken fence in a stampede beneath her feet.

“Ah, Mrs. Forrester. Imagine running into you twice in the same day.”

Brynne suppressed an eye roll and tacked on a grin. She would bet her best steer that Mrs. Morey would rather be force-fed a rattlesnake than run into Brynne even once, let alone twice, in the same day. Still, it wouldn’t do to be impolite. “Mrs. Morey, how nice to see you.”

Mrs. Morey smirked and looked around. “Are you here alone?”

“Yes.”

The woman’s face puckered like she’d sucked on a lemon and Brynne held her breath to keep any of her thoughts from showing on her face. Honestly, it wasn’t as if she were the only woman who walked about town on her own. Granted, she wasn’t in the most fashionable area in the city, but it suited her.

Still, Brynne had no fears of being on her own. She knew how to handle herself. And anything she couldn’t handle, the gun in her handbag would take care of for her. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to shoot someone. Wandering about the streets of Boston was probably one of the safest pastimes in which Brynne had ever engaged. Not that Mrs. Morey needed to know any of that.

“Are
you
alone?” she asked, not seeing anyone with the irritating woman.

“Heavens no,” Mrs. Morey replied, her hand fluttering to her chest in shock at such a suggestion. “Billy is across the street picking up a few items for me, and Mrs. Kendler and her daughters will be joining me shortly. They’ve been volunteering their time at Dr. Oliver’s clinic. The man is a true saint.” She leaned in as if she had some great secret. “He treats all the poor unfortunates in the area, often without pay.”

Brynne widened her eyes, hoping that would be enough of a surprised “you don’t say” reaction for Mrs. Morey. If the woman knew what Brynne had done in the name of charity, she would probably collapse right there in the street. That brought a smile to Brynne’s lips and she quickly dabbed at her mouth with her handkerchief. As tempting as the idea was, spilling all the details of her outlaw past would hardly help gain her any headway in the elite circles.

“Oh my. Mrs. Kendler and her daughter are absolute angels to spend their charitable hours assisting him.” Brynne hoped her sarcasm wasn’t too apparent.

Mrs. Morey didn’t pick up on it. “They are indeed.”

Brynne almost snorted, but managed to turn the sound into a sneeze. From what Brynne had heard, the saintly Richard Oliver was a rather handsome man and fairly well off. She’d be willing to bet the pearl-handled knife in her boot that the Kendler women’s charity had more to do with garnering some favorable attention from the good doctor than any true desire to help those less fortunate than themselves.

“Ah, here they are.”

A dour, plump little woman strode purposefully toward Mrs. Morey, her equally dour daughters in tow behind her, and a houseboy and maid in tow behind them. Brynne didn’t care what was considered proper or even safe; she’d never gallivant about town with an entire entourage traipsing at her heels.

Mrs. Kendler greeted Mrs. Morey as if she hadn’t seen her in ages and then turned to Brynne, her good mood immediately fading. She gave Brynne the barest of nods.

Brynne was tempted to ignore the woman altogether, but that would be unforgivably rude and Brynne had no desire to bring any consequences down on her mother-in-law. Or on her sister, Lucy, who needed to navigate her way through society’s waters as well. So Brynne forced a smile.

“Would you ladies care to join me?” she asked.

“No. Thank you.” Mrs. Kendler looked down her nose at Brynne. “We have an appointment to keep and should really be on our way.”

Mrs. Morey wasn’t quick enough (or smart enough) to hide her surprise, which left Brynne with no doubt that the supposed appointment was a convenient excuse to save themselves from her undesirable company. Brynne steeled her face into a bland expression, hiding the surprising sting that knowledge brought. She’d never give the woman the satisfaction of knowing how effective her barbs were.

“Well, perhaps another time then.”

“Perhaps.” Mrs. Kendler gathered her daughters and stalked off. Mrs. Morey at least had the decency to nod in Brynne’s direction before she tottered off after her friend.

Brynne sat and stared at a flock of pigeons across the lane, fuming in hurt silence. It wasn’t that she liked either woman or even wanted to spend any time in their company. Still.

Brynne sighed. No sense in dwelling over what she couldn’t change. She knew she should probably be getting home, but she couldn’t bear going back into her in-law’s massive, beautiful home yet. Coraline would be going down for a nap soon, and her sister and mother-in-law had made plans to visit one of the art museums the Forresters donated to. And she would only be in the way of the workers remodeling her own home if she dropped by there again.

Brynne really needed to find something to do with her time.

An idea niggled at the back of her mind. Perhaps she could volunteer her time to help the sainted Dr. Oliver as well. After all, if the high and mighty Mrs. Kendler could spare a few moments at the clinic, Brynne could certainly do so. She had experience in medical aid and wasn’t squeamish around the ill or injured, something she doubted Mrs. Kendler or her daughters could boast. Brynne could be of valuable help at his clinic. And unlike the unholy trio who had just left, she truly wanted something of value to do with her time. Something more interesting than wandering about a museum or socializing at yet another fundraiser.

Her mind made up, she gathered her belongings and went inside the café to ask for directions to the doctor’s clinic.

She was helpful, hard-working, and willing to get her hands dirty. Anyone would be lucky to have her help. It was about to be Dr. Oliver’s lucky day.

Chapter Two

Brynne kicked at her heavy skirts, wondering what the good people of Boston would think if she stripped right there in the street. She’d worn dresses back home, certainly, but they hadn’t been nearly as constricting or as heavily layered and she had spent more time than not in a pair of her Pa’s old breeches. She never thought she’d say it, but she missed her old life, no matter how difficult it had been at times.

At least, back on the ranch she’d had something to do other than sit around gossiping with the women from her mother-in-law’s society clubs or shopping for yet another dress she’d only wear once. On the ranch, Brynne might have woken every morning to a list of chores a mile long and gone to bed every night exhausted, but at least her life had had purpose.

Well, hopefully she could do something to get a little of that back. If she could find Dr. Oliver’s clinic, that is. She’d already turned down two wrong streets and had had to backtrack. At last, she turned down a lane and spotted a large plot where builders worked on renovating a damaged, old building. The clinic should be just up the lane a ways.

It had been established in an old, stately home in what had probably once been a fashionable neighborhood. Now, most of the homes had been torn down or converted for other uses. Men scurried to and fro over a stone wall like ants on a picnic lunch while others shored up the support beams leaning against the wall. Brynne repressed a shudder. The thought of being so high off the ground made her head swim and her stomach revolt.

She put her head down and continued on. Brynne came to a halt in front of the clinic’s gates. It still retained some illusions of grandeur. A few trees stood watch in front. A beautifully swirling wrought-iron fence covered in flowering ivy admitted entrance to a carefully landscaped yard and wide stone steps led to the covered porch of the building.

Brynne mounted the steps, hoping she wouldn’t be sent away before she’d even had a chance to plead her case. She wasn’t a trained nurse and had never worked in a medical facility, so they certainly had every reason to turn her away. Which was why she had come to this clinic instead of going to Massachusetts General Hospital. Hopefully, a smaller, less formal establishment would have need or some appreciation of skilled help, even if it wasn’t professional.

Brynne wasn’t sure if she should knock or simply enter. Thankfully, she didn’t have to decide as the door opened as she reached for the handle. A kind old gentleman held the door open for her as he tipped his hat.

“Thank you,” Brynne murmured, stepping inside the brightly lit interior.

The heavy drapes had been pulled open, allowing daylight to stream through the numerous windows. What had once been a grand entrance hall had been set up as an admittance ward. Several comfortable looking chairs were arranged in one corner, many of them occupied with waiting patients. A mother with a runny-nosed child; a dock worker whose arm had been bandaged and placed in a sling; an older couple who looked perfectly fine except for the cane in the man’s hand. All stared at Brynne with unabashed curiosity. With her fine morning dress trimmed in ribbons and fringe, her veiled hat and soft kid gloves, she stuck out in this place like a lemon among a bushel of apples. And she seemed about as welcome.

She straightened her shoulders and marched up to a crabby-looking woman sitting behind the large desk that guarded the main staircase. The woman didn’t look up. Brynne waited a moment and when the woman continued to ignore her, Brynne cleared her throat. The woman glanced up, not bothering to conceal her irritation at having been interrupted by someone the likes of her.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked. She sounded like the only thing she’d like to help Brynne with was finding a nice, high cliff to jump off.

“Yes, I’d like to speak to the administrator in charge please.”

The woman’s frown deepened. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Are you one of our patrons?”

“No, but—”

“I’m sorry. Dr. Oliver is a very busy man. If you’d care to make an appointment you can come back another day.”

The woman put her head down and went back to her task. Brynne refused to be dismissed so lightly and had no issue with letting the woman know it. She opened her mouth to giving her lungs a good airing out but was distracted when a door opened and a man’s laughter floated through the hall.

“You take care of that hand now,” the man said, ruffling the hair of a small child who was gingerly holding a hand wrapped in white bandages.

“Thank you, Dr. Oliver,” the mother said, giving the doctor a grateful smile.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Patrick. Keep the little scoundrel away from his papa’s forge for a few more years, eh?”

The mother nodded with a sheepish grin and escorted her son out the door. Dr. Oliver looked up and caught sight of Brynne. He turned his charming smile on her and came in her direction.

Brynne stared, completely taken aback by the man walking toward her.
This
was Dr. Oliver? She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the handsome man in front her was certainly not it. He was so
young
. She had expected someone with at least some gray at his temples, maybe even a distinguished elderly man in a white coat.

But
this
man couldn’t be more than thirty. His blond hair didn’t have a touch of gray and his face was smooth except for the slight crinkles around his blue eyes when he laughed. As he was doing right now. An action which also revealed the dimple in his left cheek. Adorable wasn’t a word she usually used to describe a full grown man, but in his case…

Brynne jerked to attention, belatedly realizing the man was speaking, and tried to pull herself together. What on earth was wrong with her? It was like she’d never seen a handsome man before. She had to admit, she hadn’t seen many who could rival the good doctor. Even Jake…

At the memory of her late husband, all thoughts of the doctor’s good looks evaporated.

“What can I help you with, Miss…?”

“Mrs. Forrester,” Brynne stated firmly.

Was that disappointment in his eyes? Brynne dismissed the thought. Of course it wasn’t. And even if it was, it was of no concern to her.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Forrester?”

“I was hoping I could speak with you. I know you are very busy, but it would only take a moment.”

“Of course. I was about to take a short break anyway.”

He took her elbow and steered her toward the back of the hall. “Mrs. Birch, I’ll be in my office if there are any emergencies.”

Brynne glanced back and barely kept herself from cringing at the look on the woman’s face. The old bat had a chip on her shoulder the size of a house, one Brynne would dearly love to knock off for her. But that was no way to treat a potential coworker. So, Brynne refrained from returning the woman’s hateful look and followed the doctor.

He opened the door for them and allowed Brynne to enter first. It was definitely a man’s office. All dark wood and leather, though with the enormous window filling the wall opposite the door, the room still managed to be light and airy. Two bookcases ran the length of the walls on either side of her, interspersed with nautical paintings and filled with books and various knick-knacks.

Dr. Oliver helped her into a plush armchair in front of his desk and took the seat next to her instead of sitting behind the desk. She found his proximity unnerving but managed to keep herself in check.

“Now, Mrs. Forrester, what can I do for you today?”

“Well, Dr. Oliver, I’ve come to offer my services.”

His eyebrows rose at that and Brynne hurried to clarify. “My nursing services, I mean.”

“Ah, I see. Are you a trained nurse?” His eyes looked her up and down, his doubt plainly stamped on his face.

“Well, no, not trained exactly. But I do have quite a lot of experience in—”

“Mrs. Forrester,” Dr. Oliver got up and moved to the other side of his desk and sat down, his tone instantly changing from charming to one of dismissive annoyance. “I appreciate that you’d like to find a worthy way to spend your time, and I’m flattered that you considered our establishment, but we do have a full nursing staff already on the premises.”

Brynne bristled. “Dr. Oliver, I am not some bored old biddy who has nothing better to do with her time.” That wasn’t entirely true, but he didn’t need to know that. “I have plenty of nursing experience, even if I haven’t had the actual schooling and—”

“I’m sure you have. But like I said, I’m afraid this facility has all the nursing staff it requires. Of course, we are always grateful to accept the help of affluent members of the community if you would like to volunteer your time in another capacity. We host several fundraisers every year and new patrons are always welcome. Or if you’d prefer to be more personally involved, we are always in need of bandages, blankets, clothing, and the like. If you are handy with a needle, those are always worthwhile pursuits for ladies such as yourself.”

“Ladies such as myself? Dr. Oliver, if I only wanted to donate goods or money, I’d have sent a maid over with the bank note and a bundle of rags.”

“And we would have been very grateful for your donation. I don’t mean to be insulting, Mrs. Forrester. However, we’ve had many patrons over the years who seem to want to work here out of a sense of adventure or even penance and all it serves to do is cause disruption and headache. I commend your willingness to be more involved with those less fortunate than you,” he said, sounding anything but complimentary, “however, I simply cannot allow the disturbance to my staff and patients simply to prove to you what I already know; that you will be as unsuited to the work as the many who have come before you. Now, if you will excuse me, my time is very limited and I must be getting back to—”

“I can do more than rip bandages and sew, Dr. Oliver. If you’d give me a chance—”

“This is a medical clinic, Mrs. Forrester,” he said, his face growing more rigid with every word. “All manner of disease, injury, and pestilence walk through that door. I mean no insult, but women such as you are simply not bred to—”

Brynne rose, her patience for his unjust and insulting arrogance at an end. “Dr. Oliver, I am not some sort of animal that has been “bred” to do anything. And you have no idea who I am or what manner of woman I am. That you would presume to—”

He rose as well. “As I was saying, this is not the type of establishment that a woman such as you would want to spend her time. Surely your husband—”

“My husband is dead.”

Dr. Oliver stopped at that, the irritation fading from his face. “I am sorry to hear that, Mrs. Forrester. Truly.”

“But you still don’t think I have anything to offer you or your clinic.”

“Again, I am sorry, but as I said…”

“Yes. As you said. You’re as small-minded and pig-headed as the rest of the men in this city.”

Dr. Oliver’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak but didn’t seem to be able to find anything to say. Well, at least she could take some small satisfaction from their disastrous meeting. She’d rendered the arrogant bastard speechless. Hurrah!

She went to the door, grabbing the handle before he’d gathered himself enough to move. “I’ll see myself out, thank you very much.”

She left before he could say another word.

…

Brynne pushed her way through the gates and marched down the street, still fuming over her dismissal. A loud noise echoed through the air, stopping her dead in her tracks. She cocked her head, trying to figure out what had made such a sound. A moment passed, but she heard nothing else. Then a sharp crack splintered the silence, followed by an ominous rumble.

The screaming began as the rumbling turned into a deafening, ground-shaking cacophony of sound.

Brynne turned and ran back the way she’d come. She rounded the corner and ran straight into a cloud of debris and dust. Oh sweet heaven, the wall of the renovated building had collapsed.

She pulled out her handkerchief and covered her mouth, squinting to protect her eyes as much as she could from the dust. What she was able to see made her stomach drop into her toes. Bodies lay everywhere. Most, thankfully, were still moving. Men scrambled to get as far from the toppled wall as they could, crawling if they couldn’t walk. Dr. Oliver and his staff were already swarming over the scene, helping those who were pulled from the rubble.

Brynne debated finding the doctor and offering her help, but the scene was one of pure chaos. And she was going to help anyway, so asking him for permission would really be an unnecessary interruption. Besides, she doubted her assistance would be any more welcome now than it had been minutes before. But she didn’t see any reason the injured men should be denied her help simply because the doctor wasn’t intelligent enough to utilize a good resource when it was offered.

The nurses were separating the injured into two groups; those who were injured, but still mobile, and those that were hurt more grievously and needed to be carried into the clinic. Brynne started with the man closest to her, inspecting his injuries and directing him to the group with minor injuries before moving on to the next man. She’d sent six men in that direction before she found one that was going to need help, and quickly.

She dropped to her knees next to him so she could get a closer look at his injuries. But before she could do anything, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

“Mrs. Forrester? What in the world are you doing here?”

Brynne looked into the angry face of Dr. Oliver. “I’m helping. Now remove your hand from my arm, please,” she said, resisting the urge to yank her arm from his grip.

He released her. “This is no place for you, Mrs. Forrester. You will be in the way and in danger here. I must ask you to leave. For your own safety.”

Brynne bit back the retort on her tongue. Now was not the time or place to re-educate the arrogant bastard, even if he desperately needed someone to put him in his place. Anything Brynne had been going to say was interrupted when the man at their feet moaned and shifted, revealing an enormous pool of blood that was quickly spreading.