Page 99 of Ghost of the Ton

“He was in a lot of pain when he came to me, but I’ve never known a young man to be so brave when I tended to him.”

“How brave?”

“As brave as any soldier,” Mia said. “I once assisted Dr. McIver in the removal of a soldier’s leg after he’d fought at Waterloo. Captain Broom, his name was. The bravest man I’d met—until Brodie.”

“Was Brodie in danger of…”

Iona’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. Mia placed a hand on the young woman’s arm, but Iona jerked free.

“Brodie’s injury was severe because it had been left to fester,” Mia said. “But it’s cured now. I’ve used the salve for smaller injuries also, such as Evie MacLennan when she grazed her arm, and Rory when he cut his hand.”

“Do ye have anything to prevent sickness or injury?”

“To prevent injury, no, other than counsel to take care,” Mia said. “But sickness—if you’re referring to the vaccination scheme, I’ll be able to prevent the onset of smallpox.”

“And…other ailments?”

“Such as?”

“Och, I dinnae ken.” Iona shrugged. “Maisie comes here a lot, and everyone knows a hure needs medicine to prevent her from getting”—she brushed a hand over her belly—“f-from getting caught.”

Her blush deepened as Mia met her gaze.

“Some doctors claim to have medicines to prevent a pregnancy,” Mia said, “but I’m not aware of anything that’s been proven by credible research.”

“A-and”—Iona lowered her gaze and clasped her hands together—“if it’s too…too…”

“Too late to prevent, for it has already occurred?”

Iona nodded.

“Some doctors claim to have medicines to put an end to…” Mia paused, unwilling to voice such a claim. “But the danger is such that I wouldn’t recommend their usage. I could never advocate such suffering.”

The girl whimpered. “S-suffering?”

Mia nodded. “More often than not, taking such medicines results in death. I’ve seen young women, desperate to save themselves from falling into ruin, suffer agonizing deaths while the men who brought about that ruination live their lives unencumbered. I wouldn’t wish such a fate on anyone—not a friend, a sister, nor even a young girl who professes hatred for me.”

Iona placed both hands on her belly, but Mia focused her attention on the jars in front of her.

“There are medicines to give a woman comfort in her confinement,” she said. “I hadn’t expected to remain at Glenblath long enough to necessitate their use, but I can prepare some and leave them behind for when I’m gone.”

“Ye wouldnae take them with ye?”

“Not if anyone here was in need of it.”

Mia plucked a jar from the shelf, formed of clear glass, containing the remnants of a knobbly root covered in silvery skin.

“Do you know what this is?”

Iona shook her head.

“It’s ginger root,” Mia said. “You’ll not find it growing hereabouts. I was sent this.”

“What do ye use it for?”

“When crushed, the root can be used to make a salve that warms the skin and eases pain—I use it on your mother. But it has other uses. For example, when a slice is steeped in water to make a tea, it can soothe the sickness that women experience in pregnancy.” Iona frowned, and Mia continued. “Of course, anyone can drink it—the taste is not unpleasant. I can use it for our tea today if you’d like to try it—purely for the taste, of course.”

“For the taste only?” Iona said.