Keeping her face devoid of the horror at hearing the woman hadn't been at a hospital, Martha took another step forward. Gathering from the woman's cloths it was an easy guess that she wasn't from the same time. "What year did they take you from honey?" Martha asked, still edging closer.
Finally Martha was next to her. "I'd just like to check your pulse first, is that alright?" She asked, her hand hovering above the woman. Martha was reminded of a woman she treated, durring her first year on the floor, the woman had three broken ribs, her face was bruised and battered, but the worst of it had been the way the woman flinched, how her eyes had darted around the room. When her husband came in with flowers, and touched her head, she'd just looked...beaten. While Merope wasn't quite as lost as that, she was on the edge.
Martha offered another smile, "Well, your baby is probably fine. Still at the orphanage." Which wasn't the *best* place for a baby but it beat here. "I'm sure you're very sore."
The wind whipped through the clock tower, causing goose pimples to raise up on her arms. "Are you staying here?" Martha asked, looking around for a make shift bed or blanketss.