Secrets of Sloane House(24)

Right after the shy woman flew from the kitchen, Cook clucked a bit. “Everything’ll be as right as rain before you know it. Dora don’t look like much, but she’s fast on her feet, she is. And the Sloane name gets results. That doctor will be here in a jiffy.”

But even the thought of getting patched up quickly didn’t make Rosalind feel any better. “I don’t see why Mrs. Sloane would pay for the expense of having the doctor here.” Especially since she’d just broken several pieces of expensive china.

Cook waved off her worries. “Don’t you worry about that none. Here at Sloane House, appearance is everything. The last thing anyone—most especially Mrs. Sloane—will want to get out is that the family pinched pennies on their servants.” Peering at her a bit more closely, she frowned, her usually merry golden eyes looking worried. “Now sit down before you fall down. You’re looking peaked.”

Because she did feel rather light-headed, Rosalind gladly sank down on the kitchen chair, trying not to focus on the pain throbbing in her hand or the way it continued to bleed.

As if Cook was thinking the same thing, she placed a neat stack of old dishcloths under Rosalind’s hand, no doubt to save the oak table from permanent stains. There was already some blood on Rosalind’s uniform.

Less than ten minutes later, Dora reappeared.

Cook looked up. “You must have run like the wind.”

Dora rolled her eyes. “Jerome told me to tell you that Mrs. Sloane had already sent him for Dr. Nolan. Jerome said the doctor should be here presently.”

“See there, Rosalind? Things will be just fine in no time.” Cook smiled kindly, but even through her pain, Rosalind could tell that things were very far from fine.

“Do you think I’ll be dismissed?”

“Over a few broken teacups? I shouldn’t think so.”

But Rosalind noticed that Cook didn’t look her in the eye when she spoke and that Dora looked worried.

Turning to Stanley, who had just wandered in, she said, “Miss Veronica said those dishes were Haviland. That means they were expensive, right?”

He nodded. “Everything’s expensive here.”

Well, that certainly didn’t make her feel any better.

“You know what?” Cook blurted. “I think we could all use a nice cup of tea.” Turning to Dora, who had just gotten out her rolling pin, she said, “Dora, be a love and make us a cuppa, would you? Bring one for Dr. Nolan too. He’s always a mite parched when he arrives.”

“Coming right up.”

Dora had just handed Cook, Stanley, and Rosalind each a steaming cup when the door opened. In walked Mrs. Abrams, followed by a man in a charcoal suit. “Here is Dr. Nolan, Rosalind. He’ll be seeing to your hand.”

Dr. Nolan looked to be in his early forties, was bald, had a mustache, and wore wire-rimmed glasses. Somehow his unusual looks made him more handsome than the opposite. He also had a calm, competent way about him that eased Rosalind’s fears for the first time all day.

Tears pricked her eyes. Even if she was about to be fired, she was grateful to have a real doctor stitch her up. “Thank you, Mrs. Abrams. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Mrs. Abrams’ cool expression looked a bit incredulous, reminding Rosalind that of course all the events over the course of the last two hours had been too much trouble.

Instead of answering Rosalind, she merely turned to Cook. “Please inform Jerome when the doctor is ready to depart. I’ll make sure he is paid.”

“Will do.”

While the women had been talking, Dr. Nolan had removed his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and washed his hands with some of the strong kitchen soap. Now he opened his bag and pulled out a pair of tweezers, bandages, a needle, and what appeared to be thread.

Once settled, he sat next to Rosalind and looked at her through his lenses in a kind way. “What is your name, miss?”

“Rosalind.”

“Let’s see how things look, shall we?” After a moment, he picked up her hand, gently cradling her knuckles and wrist as he peered into the wound. “You’ve got yourself a sizable injury. It’s a blessing that the china didn’t cut you an inch higher. If it had, your wrist could have been scored.”

Imagining the blood that would have come from that injury, she felt dizziness wash over her.

Cook whistled low. “Chin up, dear. We can’t take your vapors right now.”

Kind Dora sat down on her other side and grabbed Rosalind’s other hand. “Squeeze my hand if you start to feel woozy.”

With a shaky smile, Rosalind nodded.

“Rosalind, this is going to hurt, but there’s no getting around it, I’m afraid. You have shards embedded.” With Cook’s able assistance, the doctor carefully used his tweezers and pulled out the shards that were visible. Then, with a regretful wince, he said, “I’m sorry,” and dug a bit more.