Chapter Eight
July 6, 1817
Jane hid a yawn behind a hand as she glanced about the interior of the clinic. With quick, efficient movements, she donned a pinafore apron and tied the strings behind her back. She hadn’t slept well last night due to continuing thoughts of Finn and the kisses they’d shared. What had pushed him to that pass, she didn’t know, but she wouldn’t complain. It was as she’d thought; he was an expert kisser.
Though it was Sunday, the clinic served a purpose in the community. While a minor procedure currently occupied Royce’s time, Trey worked with a few patients who required muscular exercise, so Jane wandered over to a group of three men, one of whom was in a Bath chair much like Finn’s.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” She slipped into a straight-backed wooden chair near them. “How are you?” Not familiar with any of them, Jane bounced her gaze between them. “I’m Lady Jane Marsden, and if you need cheering up, I can do that.”
“How do you think we’re doing, my lady?” A man with a pinned-up sleeve asked. “We’re here instead of doing what we liked best.”
“What would that be?” she asked though steeled herself to hear the answer.
“Anything other than being a figure of pity,” he replied.
“And there’s not beer here,” said another. He was missing a foot and had a crutch propped against one leg. “Even if there was, it ain’t gonna put my foot back.”
Laughter circled around the men, but it held a touch of bitterness more than mirth.
The man in the Bath chair snorted. He flicked his tired gaze to her. “That’s all well and good, my lady, but sometimes a man doesn’t want to be cheered.”
She frowned. “Whyever not?” These men were harsher than Finn even if they shared the same attitude.
“That sort of thing can’t alter reality. We’re injured and always will be, so we need to talk to someone who understands. Not some little miss from the ton who hasn’t any idea of what we’ve suffered and is only here to make herself feel good.”
“But that’s not true…” At the last second, she tamped the urge to roll her eyes heavenward. “And if talking with someone else doesn’t work?” There were times when sitting with wounded soldiers felt a colossal waste of time.
The man without a foot looked her up and down with slow perusal that made her feel cheap and tawdry. “A good meal and a good fuck can make life better by increments, and that’s the truth.”
General ribald laughter circulated through the room. More men than the ones she sat with looked her way.
Heat flooded Jane’s cheeks. “That was rude.”
“It’s the truth.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Want to give it a go, my lady?”
“Absolutely not.” She stood to leave, but the man in the Bath chair spoke.
“Except us that can’t use our pricks,” he said with a sage nod. There was no resentment in his expression, only resignation. “Then it doesn’t matter.”
The man missing an arm snorted. “I’ll gladly take your share if she’s giving,” he said with a leer at Jane. “You can watch if that’ll give you a thrill.”
Oh, dear heavens.No, these men were nothing like Finn, but did he harbor the same thoughts? She turned to leave, the same time that a female nurse approached the man in the Bath chair.
“Enough vulgarity, Mr. Sumtner.” The nurse, Miss Clark, had worked at the clinic for a year, and she’d been there the longest of all the female staff. Through Royce, Jane had discovered Miss Clark had spent a few years as a midwife, but when both of her brothers had come back from the war inured, she’d apparently shifted her focus into caring for wounded and disfigured soldiers, which made her a good fit for clinic work. “Let’s get to it straightaway, shall we?” Miss Clark slipped behind the chair and wheeled him across the room and through a connecting door. Curious, Jane followed. The next area held six cots. The nurse pushed him over to one of them, and as the man maneuvered himself from the chair and onto the cot, she said, “You’re due for bathing.”
Jane raised her eyebrows. Could Finn get himself in and out of his chair without assistance? She’d never had cause to ask and neither had she seen him do it. “Would you like help, Miss Clark?”
“That’s appreciated, Lady Jane, but if you’d rather not sully your hands…”
“It’s fine.” She wasn’t opposed to lending her help when needed.
“Very well.” Miss Clark nodded. With efficient movements borne of experience, she had Mr. Sumtner stripped of his clothing except for a diaper-like garment that wrapped about his privates and bum. Did Finn need to wear something similar? He’d alluded to it, but she hadn’t been able to visualize such a garment. “There’s a porcelain bowl with clean water, a rag, and a bar of soap in the corner. Please bring it over.”
Jane did as she was told. By the time she’d returned with the requested items, Miss Clark had removed the protective garment, laying the former soldier bare as the day he was born. The fabric was soiled in both front and back, but neither the man nor the nurse was embarrassed or even concerned.
In fact, Mr. Sumtner did his level best at flirting. “Are you unattached, Miss Clark?” he asked as the nurse took the basin from Jane’s hands. In its stead, she placed the soiled undergarment.
“There’s a bucket by the door. Give it a good rinse then drop it in the hamper next to it. You’ll find a fresh one in the cabinet near the washstand.” As she wet and lathered the rag, she smiled sweetly at Mr. Sumtner. “You know that I am. When would I have the time to land a man?”