Free Lady of Milkweed Manor by Julie Klassen Page A

plant them in their gardens. But I think most people do their best to eradicate them.”
    “Yes, you look here and see a patch of pestiferous weeds-is that right?”
    “Of course.”
    “Yet I look here and see a plethora of elixirs and natural healing compounds that aid my work and soothe my patients.”
    “Really?” Charlotte looked back at the milkweeds with skepticism.
    “Really. The down of the seed can be used to dress wounds, and the milky sap creates an instant bandage that can be applied to various skin eruptions. A good root tea serves as a diuretic, expectorant, and a treatment for any number of medical conditions-including respiratory ailments, joint pain, and digestive problems. It serves as an invigorating tonic and helps with stomach problems, headaches, uterine pains, influenza, typhoid fever, and inflammation of the lungs. The sap can even heal warts with topical application.”
    “You have memorized that entire list?”
    He smiled. “You are not the first to question my garden.”
    “I would imagine not.” She smiled back at him.
    “Come, I will show you how to harvest the root.”
    They had dug up only one plant, Dr. Taylor on his haunches to show her where to sever root from stalk, when Sally bolted out the foundling ward door waving her arms.
    “Dr. Taylor, do come quick!”
     
    Charlotte noticed he did not question Sally. The urgency in her tone was enough for him to leap to his feet and run toward her. Charlotte followed, though more slowly, the uprooted plant hanging limply in her hand.
    Once inside, she heard a woman crying out and shrieking, and old Mrs. Krebs giving orders in her lower-pitched tones.
    “What’s happened?” Charlotte asked a white-faced Sally.
    “Her baby’s died.”
    “Oh no.”
    They tiptoed forward and saw Mrs. Krebs trying to console a distraught young woman Charlotte had never seen before.
    “Who is she?”
    “She came to the door last night, asking to be a nurse,” Sally began earnestly. “But both Mrs. Krebs and Mrs. Moorling was out for the evening, and Gibbs told her she’d need to come back in the morning. I thought she looked desperate-like, even offered to work without wages, but Gibbs wouldn’t hear of it and sent her on her way. Well, this morning she comes back first thing and Mrs. Krebs takes pity on her and lets her start right away. I was helping handfeed, you know, and I watched her. I seen how she went from crib to crib, looking not at the babes’ faces but at their feet! Mrs. Krebs comes and puts a baby in her arms and points to the first rocking chair, and the poor dear sits down and starts to nurse the little one, and I see her work the wee one’s foot out of its bundling and look close-like at the heel. That’s when I figgered it.”
    “Figured what?”
    Dr. Taylor reappeared and gave the woman a dose of laudanum.
    “Just this morning I had to wrap up a babe what died in the night,” Sally continued. “And for some reason, I found myself looking at the little angel’s perfect wee hands and perfect wee feet. That’s when I seen the little black mark on ‘er heel. Tar, most like. Marked by its mama, so she could find her own again.”
     
    Charlotte watched as Dr. Taylor and Mrs. Krebs ushered the woman, still weeping and moaning, into one of the small sleeping rooms down the passageway.
    “I shouldna told her, Charlotte. I should’ve found some tar or coal and marked some other poor babe’s heel. She wouldna known and the both of them be better off now.”
    “It’s not your fault, Sally. You did what you thought best.”
    Sally swiped at a tear and shook her head, clearly not convinced.

    Charlotte had difficulty sleeping that night. She turned slowly and heavily in the swaybacked bed, trying in vain to find a comfortable position and to lure the sweet spiral of sleep.
    She heard a muffled call from somewhere in the manor, followed by running footsteps down the corridor. Thinking again of the poor babe who died in the