Alarm raced through him as he bent over the woman. The scarf fell away and he gasped. Bruises marred her cheek, and her lip was swollen and bloody.
Hefting her into his arms, he rushed up the stairs and opened the door, not even bothering to knock. “We need help here!”
Olivia appeared almost instantly. She gasped when she saw the woman in his arms.
“Where should I put her?” he asked.
“In the parlor.”
Thankful he didn’t have to carry her up the stairs, Darius laid the woman on the sofa and placed a pillow beneath her head. He took out his handkerchief and gently blotted the blood from her mouth. Her cheek and eye seemed to swell right before his eyes. “She needs ice. And a doctor.”
“Right away.” Olivia disappeared from the room.
Darius removed the woman’s scarf and opened the buttons of her coat, unable to fathom why she would be wearing such a heavy garment in the summer. As he moved the fabric aside, understanding dawned. In all the uproar, he hadn’t noticed she was very pregnant.
He returned his attention to her injuries. What had happened to her? Had she fallen? No, it looked like someone had beaten her.
Disgust flooded his system at the thought of anyone harming a woman carrying a precious life within her. Who would be so despicable?
Olivia returned with a basin of water and an ice pack. “Here, hold this against her cheek. Ruth is calling Dr. Henshaw. I told her it was an emergency.”
While Darius did as she instructed, Olivia set the bowl down and wrung out a cloth. Gently she dabbed at the rest of the woman’s face, working to remove the dried-on blood and clean some of the scrapes.
When the unconscious woman moaned, Olivia pulled away, depositing the cloth back into the basin.
“Where did you find her?” she asked, turning her gaze to Darius at last.
“She came up the walkway as I was leaving. She asked if this was Bennington Place and then collapsed.”
Olivia walked around him to the end of the sofa. The woman’s large belly protruded so that her dress barely reached her knees. Olivia hesitated a moment before laying her palm on top of her stomach. She frowned, looking off into space for several seconds until the ridges in her forehead eased. “The baby’s moving. I hope that means it’s okay.” She removed the woman’s shoes, then gently pulled an afghan over her. “Who could have done this to her? Surely not her husband?”
Darius moved the ice to a different position. “It’s possible. Not all men value their wives as they should.”
“How incredibly sad.” Olivia brushed at her cheek, and he realized she was crying.
Tears for a complete stranger.
Darius couldn’t help but wonder how many other people would react to this woman with as much compassion.
When the doorbell rang, Olivia jumped to answer it, wiping the traces of moisture from her face. The poor injured woman didn’t need Olivia blubbering all over the place. Nor did Dr. Henshaw.
“Hello, Miss Rosetti.”
“Doctor, please come in. The patient is in the parlor.”
Dr. Henshaw removed his hat as he rushed into the room, barely pausing at the sight of Darius holding an ice pack to the woman’s cheek. “Mr. Reed? You’re here again.”
“Seems I’m always around in times of emergency.” Darius rose, taking the ice with him. As he moved out of the doctor’s way, he quickly explained how he’d come upon the woman.
Ruth entered the parlor in time to hear Darius’s story and stood beside Olivia while the doctor did an initial examination—listening to the woman’s heart, checking her pulse, and lifting her eyelids. Then he moved the stethoscope to her belly, frowning. When the lines around his eyes eased, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. At least it seemed the baby was unharmed.
“Do you know her name?” Dr. Henshaw rose from his position beside the sofa.
“No. But perhaps you could check her pockets for some identification.”
Dr. Henshaw reached over and rifled through the coat but came away empty-handed. “I’ll need you all to step out now while I do a more thorough exam.”
“Certainly.” Olivia headed into the hallway, Darius and Ruth right behind her.
“I have to get ready for an appointment,” Ruth said as she closed the parlor doors. “Can I leave you two to handle the situation?”
“Of course,” Darius said. “I’ll stay as long as Olivia needs me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed.”
Once Ruth had gone upstairs, Olivia paced the hall floor, unsure what to do next. “I feel so helpless.”
Darius laid warm hands on her shoulders. “I’m sure Dr. Henshaw will know what to do.” He paused, his eyes intent on hers. “Would you like to pray for her?”
She looked up and nodded, the steadying effect of his fingers calming her. “I would.”
When he held out a hand, she took it, and the strength of his grip shored up her courage.
He bowed his head. “Lord, please bless this woman and her child and grant them your healing grace. Thank you for bringing her here to this safe place. Please guide Dr. Henshaw to make the right diagnosis and give her the best treatment possible. Amen.”
“Amen.” Olivia exhaled. “Thank you. That helped more than I imagined.”
Darius looked down at their joined hands, then cleared his throat and released her.
Instantly, she missed his warmth.
Dr. Henshaw emerged from the parlor, a grim look on his face. “There’s bruising on the woman’s torso as well as her neck and face. It appears someone not only beat her but likely kicked her in the abdomen too.”
Olivia fought back nausea at the thought. “What can we do for her, Doctor? Does she need a hospital?”
“Her vital signs are normal, other than a slight elevation due to her circumstances. And the baby appears to be fine.” He replaced his tools in his bag. “I’d like to wait until she regains consciousness to assess her further, if that’s not a problem. There’s no need to move her for now.”
“That’s fine,” Olivia said. “Would you like
