The Girl who was a Gentleman (Victorian Romance, History) by Anna Jane Greenville (5)

'If you so wish,' he raised his palms to the flame to receive it's warmth. I watched his profile. A frown – nowhere near as deep as his father's – formed on his forehead that led to an almost straight nose. Just before opening his mouth to speak he pursed his lips displaying the full extent of the strain that tortured him.

'Wait,' it occurred to me that whatever he had to say would make my troubles seem pitiful and small. If I did not voice them now, I never would. 'Let me begin, after all.'

He nodded with a patience that told me he would listen for as long as I required his hearing. There was only one other person who had made me feel as though I could say anything: the old man, how strange to find one of his precious qualities in Hanson.

'Uncertainty puts me in a state of anxiety. I do not know what to do once school is over,' I paused thinking what else there was. I had had so much on my mind this morning, but with Hanson near me, it all seemed suddenly far away. He gave me comfort just by leaning with his elbow against the mantle piece, and looking at me with clear green eyes, that blazed with the glow of the fire.

'I know what a girl of your position and age should do,' he said in an effort to revive my readiness to speak. It had the reverse effect, for he was the last person on earth whom I wanted to suggest I should marry. Emboldened by the radiating heat that allowed me to feel the tips of my toes again I said provocatively: 'become a pirate?'

He laughed as I had hoped he would. But the tension did not lift unfortunately. I felt him expect a commitment from me that I was not willing to make.

'I was thinking of something less likely to put your neck into a noose.'

'A skilled pirate?'

'Do you think it would fulfil you to be a pirate?'

'It certainly sounds more tempting than marriage,' I said firmly. Perhaps too firmly considering the lightness with which he was making his innocent remarks. An innocence by which I could not help but feel interrogated, backed into a corner, by the man who wanted me to admit what I could not admit to him.

'Why are you objecting to it so devotedly?' again there was an innocence along with a genuine interest in his voice. 'Have you never thought of yourself as a wife, or mother even? Is loneliness so much more favourable than the family life? Imagine it. A warm house filled with voices of loved ones. A husband to whom you mean the world and children whose adoring eyes fill your heart with joy and pride. Would that not be agreeable to you?'

Evil, heartless, wretched man. He did not content himself with merely stabbing my heart, he made sure to cut it into small pieces until there was nothing left of it. It took all my willpower to contain my temper. He had a way of saying things – and saying them in such a way – that tore down the guarding fortress I had built around my feelings and extract from me every emotion that I was capable of experiencing.

'Jo,' he breathed and reached out his hand towards me. He called me 'Jo'. At least in that I found solace. 'Have I upset you?'

'Yes, you fool,' to attack him was the only way left to defend myself. He drew away, surprised at my outburst to words he had said in kindness. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me, but then I did not want to hurt him, at all. I wanted him to be happy. Why could he and I not be happy together?

'It is no longer my choice not to marry. Who could possibly want me?' I cried with a passion that would not allow me to ever look into his eyes without being ashamed of myself. 'There is no man who will want me the way I am. I want to be a lawyer, or an engineer, or a doctor, like you. Just like you. I want to do extraordinary things and be admired for my work. Why do I have to choose between being me and being somebody's wife?'

He pressed my face to his chest which muffled all of the other nonsense I was saying. It was scandalously indecent to be alone with a man in his office, and to be held by him, and to hold him in return.

'How can an intelligent young woman be so silly?' he said gently caressing my wet and muddy hair. 'Yet, who am I to say this, when I am just as lost as you are,' he sighed. 'Oh, Jo. I, too, am afraid of what summer may bring. My career at Kenwood ends along with yours for then my debt to my father will be cleared – after five agonising years. It has always been my ambition to open a hospital for women and children. After finishing my education at Oxford I trained for a year at St Thomas's Hospital but I was making more and more debts that my father was expecting me to pay back. I quit my training and worked shortly as an assistant surgeon in a work house for a small income. Those few months in the work house were the worst of my entire life. I have never seen so much misery that I could do nothing against. The prospect of having to work there for two decades – for that was the time it would take to pay back my debt – was of a very depressing sort. I was afraid that by the end of it there would be nothing left of me,' he paused shortly and shuddered. 'Using my father's connections I found this teaching position. Here I earn almost five times as much. Apart from that I make house visits on the weekends to the rich and the poor alike. I overcharge the rich of course, so I can treat the poor for free. While my medical training is not of a traditional kind, I have gained substantial experience and a great many patients' trust. I desperately hope it will be enough to run a hospital. For that is my ultimate ambition. It would be devastating to run into bankruptcy within the first year. The first year is always the hardest. I will need funds. Some of them, I know where to get, others, I hope, an opportunity will arise as I go on,' he became lost in thought, then caught himself dreaming and hastily continued, 'sorry, I am boring you with detail. But, what I meant to ask you, you see, it was not marriage I was eluding to when I said I knew what would suit a young woman of your position. If it is at all agreeable to you, and I know it might not be, pray have no fear to reject...'

He was babbling but I understood. I understood perfectly.

'Yes,' I said eagerly, 'the answer is yes, yes, and yes.'

He was still holding me and I him. My hands balled into fists with which I was practically tearing his shirt off his chest. It was not me doing it, it was the excitement. He had to make a step back, so strongly was I pushing him.

'Do you know what I mean to ask?' he looked at me with surprise and a guarded smile.

'You need an assistant, no? I will be most happy to take the position. No, not only happy but honoured and... and everything else that I need to be.'

I could hardly believe, he had effortlessly given the answer to all of my problems, and dissolved the burden on my heart with only a few words.

The guarded expression on his face made way for heartfelt relief, then joy.

'Are you certain?' he grabbed me by the shoulders with the same excitement which I had betrayed only a moment ago. 'There will hardly be an income to be had, but of course it shall increase as the hospital becomes more established, although it all might go wrong, and then...'

'Say no more. I agree to all the terms. It will be successful, maybe not from the start but it will be eventually and I want to be there, no, I want to offer all of my support in achieving it.'

'Oh, Jo! Thank you.'

He lifted me up in his embrace. I could not help the tears any more, but they had changed to happy tears. In my heart was a bonfire and I could, oddly, smell it too. Something smelt burnt. A shriek escaped me when I realised what it was that had caught fire. Overwhelmed by emotions, I had pushed Hanson too close to the flame. His jacket was scorching. I tore free from his grip, and grabbed a newspaper that was conveniently lying on the mantle piece. With it, I hit the burnt spot until his backside stopped smoking. Hanson looked at my wild behaviour with a mixture of fear and astonishment. It took a while until he realised what had happened.

'You saved my life, Jo,' he said taking off his jacket to inspect the damage, and added with a laugh: 'and nearly killed me in the process. If nothing else, this certainly qualifies you as the perfect assistant.'

My heart swelled with pride, and I raised the newspaper in salute. A name printed on the back of it caught my attention. I unfolded the paper to find a photograph of a man and a woman, both handsomely extravagant. She was seated in a white chair while he stood beside her dressed in a uniform of Her Majesty's Royal Navy. I paid no mind to the image. It was the caption that startled me.

'Admiral Humphrey Lowell and Miss Elizabeth Emilia Ryde are happy to announce their engagement.'

I read this line again and again but it made no sense. My eyes wandered back to the picture. Only then, beneath the tremendous dress, that devoured the tiny white chair, the long feathers in a hat that looked like a layered cake, and at least a pound of powder, I recognised my sister next to an unfamiliar middle-aged man. I looked at the date, it had been printed shortly after Christmas.

Comprehension made me  inhale sharply and throw the paper to the ground, as though I might contract a disease from touching it. Indeed, some sort of disease had befallen me. My legs weakened under the weight of my body. I could not breath. I tugged at my collar, and tried to open a button, but my hand did not do as I told it to.

Without knowing what had ailed me, Hanson offered his arm for support which I grabbed and clung to. His other arm reached for the newspaper. He looked at it. Clearly, he did not know what to look for. What horrible news might be found on the announcement page?

'My sister. Why has no one told me? How could she be in London without visiting me?' I stuttered in-between breaths.

Hanson looked at the newspaper one more time and discovered the wretched line. The newspaper sailed to the floor as he put his other arm about me.

'Why?' I repeated in the same moment as I remembered the letter in my pocket. Without another second's hesitation I tore open the mud soiled seal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 27

 

LOVE AND LIES

 

The letter was written in the same sloppy hand as the address on the envelope. Too excited was my heart to let my brain derive a coherent meaning of consequently written words. I did not read the sentences, but merely searched for the name 'Elizabeth'. There was only one page – though normally Eleanor wrote no less than four and in a much smaller, neater hand. My pupils jumped back and forth between the letters with nauseating speed. Not a single syllable resembled the name I was looking for. Yet, I refused to loose heart. I looked again. This time my prey was the name 'Lowell'. Then 'Admiral'. 'Engagement'. 'Marriage'. 'Courting'. 'Happy  news'. 'Visit'. 'London'. The last word I searched for was 'Love'. My head was in a whirl from the speed at which my eyes had moved. I took a deep breath. And began at the beginning.

 

Dearest Jo,

 

We are all very well. Very well, indeed. The weather has become milder, though you know how the sea wind tends to keep its harshness even after winter's end. Nevertheless, we are all very happy about the coming of spring. I hope you feel it as keenly. Does one's mood not rise when one wakes to the happy chirping of birds?

I hope you are well, too, for we are very well. I hope you eat well. We do, indeed, eat very well, indeed.

I hope you are well and well fed.

 

Love

 

Eleanor

 

P.S. We are all very well.

 

Never before had I been wished well with such persistence or informed of someone else's well-being with such emphasis. She could only be lying. She was the worst liar. It was impossible for her to do even on paper. It showed in every inch of the two pages I was holding. If she had information to withhold why would she bother writing, at all? And why was it Eleanor that wrote, not, as usual, Elizabeth?

I felt abandoned and deceived. The irony twisted my stomach for it was I, who had left them, and I, who was far from honest. But I was doing it for them as well as for me and had good reasons. It would have killed them to learn that I was sharing a room with boys, or that I had used my fists in an argument, or that I was harbouring improper feelings for one of the teachers. Elizabeth's situation was a very different one. I refused to share my hardships – she refused to share her happiness. That made me feel very much alone.

As I lowered the letter, there was Hanson looking at me. His expression a mixture of expectation and anxiety. No, I was not entirely alone. There was a man who worried on my behalf and would help me if he could, for it was his nature to help others.

I wondered if it was fair to depend on him when he had enough to trouble him, but I could not hold back the waterfall of words that flowed from my lips as I explained everything to him. He listened patiently with a frown of heartfelt concern.

'Are you sure you want to find her?' he asked when my rave ended.

'Why, of course, I-' I stopped. What if this Admiral refused to marry her if he learned of her relation to me? What if she had not told him about me or me about him for precisely this reason? A new wave of anxiety washed over me.

'What should I do?'

Hanson shook his head. For once, he had no answer.

The newspaper – crumbled from the rough way in which I had treated it – lay before the fire place. I sat down next to it, and looked at the picture of Elizabeth and her future husband. I could not bring myself to touch the paper. I could only look at it from afar.

Elizabeth was surrounded by all the nice things she had always wanted. The dress looked more expensive than our house. It was white with black ribbons going in stripes around her skirts. She held a large fan made of feathers with a hand, that wore a ruffled glove of the finest silk. Her black lips were pouting in that elegant manner which was so natural to her. The black eyes pierced me like they always did, even though they were hardly more than tiny dots of ink. And then there was the Admiral. He wore a uniform with all sorts of medals and decorations befitting his position. His hand rested on a wildly adorned sword that shone even in black and white. His mouth was almost completely hidden by a neatly trimmed beard and whiskers. The brows rested on eyes that I found impossible to read. I could not tell if he was angry, or at ease. Did he love my sister? He must be twenty years older than her, at least. Did she love him? I looked for an answer in the photograph but there was none to be found. I could not tell their thoughts. Both faces were masks of socially accepted pretence.

Hanson sat down beside me. In his face there was plenty to read. Concern, affection, the wish to be of service. I looked back at my sister's face. Nothing. The Admiral. Nothing.

'Enough of that,' said Hanson angrily and threw the newspaper into the fire.

It blackened and vanished.

'If you want to learn more about this man I know someone who might be able to help,' he announced determinedly. 'Mrs Banks' two older daughters work as maids in a hotel near Covent Garden. They know everything about everyone. Shall we visit them in the morning?'

'Thank you.'

'Cheer up, now. Will ya,' the harshness with which he said it startled me, but it woke me from the daze I was in. He was right. I had to cheer up.

'There are but a few months left until the final examination. If you fail it, I won't have you as an assistant.'

'Yes, sir!'

The vitality returned to me. How did he know when to be strict and when to be soft? How could he so easily motivate me regardless of what bothered me? If only I could be as much a comfort to him as he was to me. Maybe I was, though. He appeared to be livelier than when we had met in the hallway. Then again, it was probably no more than wishful thinking on my part.

'You must not let it distress you,' he said with the tiniest of pouts about his lips, 'who is to give me comfort if you are upset?'

For a moment I wondered if I was dreaming. When I convinced myself that it was not the case, I tried hard to suppress the silly grin that was fighting its way to my face. How happy it made me to know I was of use to him. How dangerous those feelings were. Not only did I fancy myself in love with him – however difficult it might be to admit – but I had opened up to him completely. I trusted him with every drop of my blood. Worse than that, I felt a dependency that weighted as heavy as a prison chain.

Much too soon the sun began rising. I had not even noticed it setting, or the rain stopping. The chirping of birds announced a new morning, as did the lightening of the sky.

I could hardly believe we had spent all night talking.

'I should go,' I said bluntly and was about to stand up but he lay a heavy hand on my shoulder.

'Stay,' he said looking straight in my eyes.

I did not know where to look. I certainly was not allowing my heart to react to his words. My heart was misunderstanding the situation, clearly. What Hanson really meant was that I would probably run into the caretaker if I left now.

'Joanna, please stay, if only for another hour. I do not want to be alone with myself just now,' he said.

His face was like that of a child. Lost and indigent. I could not win a battle against my own heart.

'Forgive me my selfishness.'

Yes, he was selfish. He was toying with my feelings and I had no means to protect myself against the damage I was taking.

'In an hour I shall call for a cab which will take us to Southwark.'

'No,' I said, 'let us walk.'

 

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. The air was fresh due to yesterday's heavy rain, which had pinned the dust to the ground. The cobble stones beneath my feet shimmered like jewellery under a thin layer of water. The pools along the side walk reflected trees that gradually turned greener the higher the sun climbed.

I wore a marvellous suit. It was elegantly black and as shiny as the wet roofs of London. I had turned the rims of the trousers and jacket sleeves up inside to hide their length, hence the suit almost looked as though it could be truly mine. Of course, it was Hanson's. He, himself, was wearing dark blue trousers and a beige jacket. We were on our way to Mrs Banks.

There was no one on the streets but us, which was not surprising as it had only just gone five. Hanson said Mrs Banks was early to rise, and I hoped he was right for otherwise the two of us would appear very rude.

My cheeriness was of an extreme level, as lack of sleep made me jittery and excited. Combined with the strong effect of the coffee that Hanson had made me drink, I could probably sprint from one end of the city to the other twice without even ever pausing. I was excited to see Mrs Banks. I was excited to be walking down the streets of London. I was excited to be excited. Hanson was the opposite of me – quiet and thoughtful. Or maybe just tired.

The district of Southwark did not appear quite as bleak as it had during my last visit. The smell was not as bad as I remembered and the alleys not quite as dark. One of the windows we passed even had pretty flowers on the sill.

There were things, however, which mood – regardless of how jolly it was – could not change for the better. People slept on the streets. Rats crossed our path fearlessly. Poverty was displayed vividly in every brick and rotting wood beam that held the houses upright. Upright was a very optimistic way of putting it. Some walls leaned so far to one side that if there was room to pass between two buildings you could be sure to look up and see their roofs touch. Observing my surroundings curiously I did not notice that we had already arrived at our destination.

 

'Admiral Lowell?'

'Yes, we've heard of him.'

'Seen him.'

'Very elegant man.'

'Dashing.'

'Must be around forty.'

'Forty-five is what I heard.'

'He is staying at a hotel near Covent Garden.'

'We work there.'

'For the fine folks.'

'Admiral Lowell is among the finest.'

'He stops there every year for a month or so.'

'Always in April.'

'Although this year will probably be the last.'

'He is looking to buy a house around Primrose Hill!'

'For his wife.'

'Beautiful woman.'

'Charming.'

'As fine as a lady.'

'And as kind as a country girl.'

'Gave me a guinea on Monday.'

'Gave me two on Tuesday.'

'They married yesterday.'

'Madly in love.'

'We know, we would be.'

Lucy and Daisy started giggling. They were twins. Very sweet girls of fourteen. One might even call them pretty, were they not quiet so thin.

Mrs Banks offered me more coffee. After drinking two cups of it, and listening to Lucy and Daisy, who spoke like one person with two heads, I was beyond jittery. My heart was beating like that of a small rodent. My right knee was trembling, making my heel hammer uncontrollably against the leg of my chair. What I heard did not exactly calm me. Hanson had bought warm rolls at a bakery near Charing Cross. They were crisp on the outside and soft like cotton wool inside. I stuffed a chunk into my mouth in hope of pushing my emotions down my throat with it.

'Is he travelling alone with the lady?' asked Hanson.

'There are two ladies.'

'The older is called Eleanor.'

'No, that is the younger.'

'No it is not.'

'Yes it is.'

'No.'

'Yes, the older is Elizabeth.'

'Oh, right.'

'Elizabeth Lowell as of yesterday.'

I started coughing as the bread caught in my throat. There were too many emotions and they refused to be pushed down. Hanson gave me two pats on the back.

'Admiral Lowell, was he promoted recently from Captain?' he continued. I did not like the underlying concern with which he voiced his question.

'Yes, indeed.'

'Yes, indeed.'

'Do not repeat after me.'

'I did not.'

'Yes, you did.'

'He was promoted at the end of last year.'

'When he returned from the East Indies.'

'Is he actually a Rear-Admiral of the yellow?' This from Hanson, but his question caused little more than confusion.

'How do you mean?'

'Yes, how do you mean?'

'You are doing it again.'

'No, one word was different.'

'Stop it.'

'You, stop it.'

'Behave yourselves,' said Mrs Banks and the girls were instantly quiet.

When we left two hours later I asked Hanson what he knew. He was reluctant to admit that he knew anything, but I was not to be taken for a fool.

'The way you in which you asked those question has made it clear that you know exactly who he is.'

He did not look my way or say a word. After four cups of coffee I was on edge and not willing to play games. Jumping in front of him I blocked his way.

'Tell me what you know,' I demanded.

'I might be wrong.'

'You know everything about him, his ranks, where he served. You cannot be wrong. There are not enough Admirals in the Royal Navy for you to be wrong.'

'It will upset you.'

'I am upset already.'

'Captain... Admiral Lowell is Abigail's father.'

I stepped back and looked at Hanson for a moment that stretched into eternity. This could not be.

'Her name is Miss...'

'Johnson, yes, she is born Lowell. Most people still call her Miss instead of Mrs because few know exactly what happened. It is a delicate matter. She married a Lieutenant five years ago. A young chap of great promise. His family was among the richest in London, but instead of enjoying the easy life he chose to serve his country. At the age of nineteen he was made acting Captain of a frigate as the Captain and half the crew had fallen ill. Upon his return to Britain, the Admiralty recognised young Johnson's exceptional talent and promoted him to Commander. As such he sailed under Captain Lowell. It was a matter of time until the young man would be given his own ship. Serving under Captain Lowell, Commander Johnson inevitably met the Captain's daughter, Abigail, and within a week of their acquaintance he asked for her hand in marriage. Captain Lowell, at the time, did not approve of their alliance, as he was reluctant to let his darling go, yet his daughter was as headstrong and stubborn as she is now. They married. A few months later Johnson embarked on a journey whence he never returned. There have been rumours, as you can imagine, with regards to the cause of death. But Captain Lowell was never proved guilty in court. Abigail became a widow at the age of eighteen. She inherited her husband's wealth and lived for four years in America until her return last December.

'Admiral Lowell has a house in Portsmouth. Abigail refused to live with him though she never severed their ties completely. She suffered a great deal, for not only did she loose the love of her life, but it was also her father who stood accused. Once, she admitted to me that she did not believe her father to have killed her husband but she did think him capable of not doing enough to save him. '

'It is he who married my sister?'

'I am afraid so.'

'Oh.'

I could feel my face become pale as the blood drew away from it.

'Oh,' I said again.

My body felt as though I had dived into ice cold water without a warning.

'I should not have told you,' said Hanson.

'No, you did well in telling me. I-' I felt tears welling up. 'I am sorry. Poor Abigail. I have said such mean things about her.'

We were standing in the middle of a crowded street. Masses of people were heading in every direction. Hanson positioned himself in front of me to shelter me from view.

'I knew you would react in such a way. But I could not not tell you.'

'Do tell me one more thing, please.'

'And what is that?'

'What is an Admiral of the yellow? Is it very bad?'

'I would not say it is bad exactly. You see, normally there are three more ranks between Captain and Admiral. Captains are promoted to flag rank to allow them to retire in dignity. Yellow is the colour that signifies redundancy. In other words he may now enjoy his remaining days in peace.'

'Well, at least there is some good news.'

'Although,' he began and my heart sank some more, 'this usually happens to Captains of a much older age And while holding the rank of Admiral is an honour, an Admiral of the yellow retires at half pay and sometimes this procedure is used to rid the Royal Navy off officers who have served for many years but have displayed incompetent behaviour on one or more occasions.'

'Does that mean my sister is poor as well as married to a horrible man?' I sobbed.

'I do not know if he is horrible, but I am sure he had enough time to save up a small fortune. With Abigail managing her own affairs, he needed to care only for himself. How long his fortune will hold is another matter,' he paused, 'I am sorry to tell you all this. It is why I wanted you to hear what Lucy and Daisy had to say because they have a more favourable opinion of people than I do. They said he was a fine gentleman.'

'It is all my fault,' I admitted. 'I wanted to provide for my sisters so they would not have to marry men like that.'

'You have not met him. I only met three or four times. He was at sea most of the time. I might be wrong about him.'

'No,' I sobbed again, 'you are never wrong about people.'

Had Elizabeth married that man for money alone? But that made no sense, with the old man's provisions we had enough – or perhaps Elizabeth did not want to rely on me. Perhaps her wish for independence was as strong as mine, and she did not want to sit at home idly and wait for me to manage our affairs, especially as she disapproved so greatly of my means. She chose some man, a stranger, whom she might not even love to take agency over her life rather than allowing me to give her a choice.

I had imposed my services where they were not wanted. I might even have pushed her into marriage. I should have talked to her more openly. I should have gone home for Christmas. I should have allowed her to see more of my life, included her, made her understand. Maybe then her conduct would not have been quite so drastic. No matter how I looked at it, there was nothing I could do to change it now. It was probably better, in fact, if I did not impose myself on her any further. She chose not to tell me and I had to respect it by staying out of her way, even though it hurt severely.

There was another situation – one I could still change. It was a change I was afraid to bring about as I did not know if it was going to be for the better or worse. I had avoided it until now, but I was not going to wait any longer as I had learned in the most painful way possible what silence could do.

Upon my return, Rajesh Greenfield sat at the desk in our room. I could not help but marvel at how big it looked without Richard Redford there. The box bed had been taken out, as well, and I enjoyed the privilege of a proper bed now.

When I entered it was room mates back that faced me. Even though, we now lived alone in the shared room, I had not found a convenient moment to talk to him. The tension of unspoken accusations between us was thicker than the fog that haunted London at night. With every passing day it became harder to address him. Soon the last feelings of familiarity would be gone, and there would be no words that could re-establish our ties.

Greenfield crouched above books and papers, studying fervently – an activity I should be practising myself, yet had completely neglected today, for if I failed the final examination Hanson would take back his promise to take me on as an assistant. Such was his condition and it was not my intention to disappoint him.

With a sudden sensation of ease and relief I realised that I had only myself to look after now, even if I earned very little or nothing at all, the only one who would starve was me. I felt a wry smile on my face, and relief in my heart that left an emptiness. My family did not need me any longer, they had not even seen it fit to inform me about my uselessness to them. So very inconsequential was I.

But, I had come to my room with a firm resolve. There was no time to be glum when important measures had to be taken.

'Good afternoon, Rajesh,' I sad in a full voice and waited for the silence which I assumed would be his reply.

Though he was busy at work I could see his back stiffen.

'How do you do,' he said in a chilly tone. I had forgotten that it was not his custom to be childish and ignore me even though we had not spoken in weeks.

'Rajesh, may I bluntly ask what is on your mind?'

He stopped writing but he did not turn towards me. I continued looking at his back.

'You may. I might not reply, however,' his voice was emotionless and steady. There was no weakness or viciousness in it, but I knew I had taken him by surprise, for he was one to prepare, to think things through, now he was confronted without warning. It was my chance to break the barrier between us if I made no mistake, a mistake would be become emotional, or to attack him. None of that, I had to sort out our differences in a calm and collected manner, a talk from man to man, by the end of which we might not leave this room as friends, but at least we would no longer be enemies.

'Did you tell Chester to bully me when I first arrived?'

I waited for him to consider this.

'No. You managed to attract his disfavour all by yourself.'

Now, there was malice in his voice. It was just an underlying tone which I would not have noticed had I not lived with him for many months.

'But,' he continued. 'I have done nothing to stop him.'

'Have you not called Hanson when I was attacked by Chester and his friends on the college green at night?'

'Sorry,' he turned around smiling. The smile did not touch his eyes. 'Hanson came because he heard you scream. I merely watched from my window. Despite the fog I saw enough to understand the situation. I did not help you but I did use what I had seen to my benefit. And now you are probably going to ask me about the destroyed classroom, too, aren't you? That was not me either but I might have accidentally put the idea into Chester's mind.'

Sarcasm did not suit him.

'I do not know what you gained form pretending to be my friend,' I smiled too, and made sure the smile did touch my eyes for it was honestly meant. 'But I would like to thank you for your pretended friendship, it gave me the strength I needed in order to make real friends.'

'It was not my intention to be of service.'

'I am sure of it.'

'It is merely my wretched nature.'

'You cannot help being kind even to those you hate.'

He laughed and shook his head.

'You grew, Ryde. I can see now why-' he stopped, startled by what he was about to say, but he had said enough.

'You can see why Hanson likes me more than you?' I asked well aware that I was about to stab my own heart, as well as his, with my words.

'Do not be silly,' he turned away and hastily began going through his papers.

'Rajesh, my relationship to Dr Hanson is not of an intimate kind. I am not his lover. We are but friends.'

I heard him scoff quietly. It was the best he could do. My attack was far too swift for him to muster up his defences. Sadly, I understood his feelings well.

'And I consider you my friend and hope that someday you might be it.'

His shoulders were shaking slightly. It was time to leave so he could sort his feelings out. It was not my intention to embarrass him.

'How,' his voice was shaking too, 'how do you know?'

'I wish I could say I noticed it myself, but regrettably it was Redford who told me.'

'Not in a nice way I presume.'

'As nice as fists can be.'

'I see. He thought you were like me?'

'Yes. And he was right, I do love Hanson, but I am afraid there is nothing I can do to act on it. You were braver than me by telling him about your feelings. Perhaps you can find solace in that.'

'How can I possibly find solace in that? The man I love refused me, and although he did not show it, I am sure he was disgusted with me,' his eyes glistened with the pain in his heart. 'When I was a child, I did not know that it mattered whether you loved a man or a woman – I thought you could love whoever you wanted, because love was supposed to be blind. I have always loved men, I can't help it, it is the way I am, the way I feel, and the worst is knowing that Dr Hanson will never love me back, no matter what I do – if I were a woman, I would at least be able to hope that some day I might win his heart but for me that option just does not exist, and I came to terms with, but then you came along – why would he make an exception for you?' he ran out of words and out of hate, what he was left with then was utmost despair. I knew those feelings well. He began to weep quietly.

'Rajesh,' I said softly, and I wanted to reach out to him but I did not know whether I had the right to comfort him when I was at least partly the reason for his misery, 'Hanson would never be disgusted with another person's sincere feelings, you know that for it was you who said he was good and fair.'

It was not my place to watch him in his vulnerable state, therefore I went to the library and studied like a madman for the next few weeks. The more I filled my brain with knowledge the less space there was for thoughts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 28

 

BONDS AND BETRAYAL

 

For an English summer, June was swelteringly hot, the world looked as though it was melting. All clouds had been burnt from the sky.

The strange thing about the sky in London was that it was never blue, there was always a touch of pink in it because the smoke from the chimneys never quite cleared – a constant reminder of how everything that happened changed something in our world. If the chimneys were silenced for a hundred years, would the sky resume its initial colour , eventually?

Little contemplations like these were a luxury which I allowed myself to enjoy for a total of five minutes a day. The rest of the time was spent in a dark corner of the library. Studying. Studying. Studying.

Sometimes, I even fell asleep there. Today, for instance, I woke with my face resting on the back of the Trojan Horse. The thrilling battle over Helen was not thrilling enough for me to stay awake and read all of the Iliad in one night. This unfortunate circumstance stole three hours of precious time and the only way to make up for it was to skip breakfast.

Lessons had ended two weeks ago. One might have thought the last school day would be cause for celebration, but it only marked the beginning of a month of library imprisonment, at the end of which lay the examination gallows.

The more I studied the more stupid I felt. I could not imagine a life without eighteen hours of reading, writing, and calculating equations that had more letters in them than numbers. Once I caught myself trying to read one such equation thinking it was a phrase. I panicked for I thought that all the studying had caused such a shock to my brain that I had become illiterate.

Hanson looked with amusement at my efforts and said it filled him with nostalgia as he remembered his own school and university days. He never failed to mention how glad he was that they were over. It was at those times that I wanted to lay my hands firmly around his neck – for research purposes, of course, to fully grasp Paris' feelings when he shot a deadly arrow at Achilles.

Eventually, I decided to go for breakfast, after all, and recuperate what I could about Paris, Helen, and Achilles. Entirely lost in thought I crossed the college green and entered the main building. The dining hall sounded as busy as always. The clattering of dishes was audible from afar. I was alone in the hallway for I was late after passing by Hanson's office. He was away, though – I had forgotten that he was visiting his patients. Soon, they would be my patient's too. All I had to do was pass the exam.

Because I was so entirely lost in thought I did not immediately notice the change of noise when I entered the dining hall. It was when I wanted to hand my plate to cook that I caught her staring at me. She froze, and looked at me as though she had thought me dead but here I was before her. The whole dining hall seemed to think me dead, in fact. There was a ghastly silence in a huge room filled with wild boys. Slowly, I turned around to face them. All four hundred eyes were on me.

An agonising minute passed before a first year came running towards me. He stopped at a safe distance.

'There is a gentleman waiting for you in the headmaster's office,' he shifted from one foot to the other nervously, 'is it true you are a girl?'

My plate fell to the ground and shattered at the boy's feet. It was me this time who looked at the two hundred boys as though I had thought them all dead but here they were. Not for long though. My feet started working before my mind did. I ran from the dining hall, through the familiar corridors to the large, arched door that led to the headmaster's office. I remembered myself standing before this very door on my first day at Kenwood. How timid I had been then, how worried someone might find out I was a girl. It seemed a lifetime away.

I entered without knocking.

'Ryde,' thundered the headmaster.

'Headmaster,' I began slightly out of breath but altogether collectedly and with unshakable resolve, 'there must be a tremendous misunderstanding.'

Only then did I notice that somebody was sitting in the large arm chair facing the headmaster. A man rose from it.

'You must be Joanna,' said the man smiling ambiguously through a neatly trimmed beard and whiskers.

I did not recognise him but I hated him instantly. Who was he and why did he know my name?

'I am Mr Ryde to you, sir,' I growled at him. It was surprising even to me that I continued to lie so very persistently when there was so little chance of leading them on.

He chuckled despicably and rubbed his left whisker between his forefinger and thumb.

'What a wild girl,' he stopped laughing and his face became a mask of authoritative arrogance, 'I have disciplined hundreds of grown men, one little girl should not pose too much of a challenge,' he turned towards the headmaster, 'I thank you for the smooth procedure, I am sure you will handle this delicate matter most discreetly. Everything else shall be handled by me', slowly he turned back to me, 'your sisters are eagerly awaiting us at home, dear sister-in-law.'

'I did not know,' stuttered the headmaster.

It was bewildering to see this great man, who had dealt composedly with Chester and many other boys, crumble at the knowledge that I was a girl.

'Now Miss Joanna, will you leave with me, holding my arm when I offer it to you like a lady, or should I throw you over my shoulder and drag you to the carriage waiting outside?'

'Sir, your words are an insult,' I barked at him.

'Which will it be?' he raised his arm offering it to me. His face became even more disagreeable. He was not an ugly man but there was toxic poison in the air around him – not the friendly sort of poison that Hanson sometimes emitted – but deadly, rotten acid.

The first time I had been to the headmaster's office I had noticed two crossed foils next to the door. They were behind me now. If I made a dash for them, I might reach them before Admiral Lowell could throw me over his shoulder. For some strange reason I felt excitement surge through my veins at the prospect of fencing this man. He was in his forties. Even if he were a great fencer, I had the advantage of youth and recent training. But what was it, I would be fighting for? What was there for me to gain? I could try and kill him, of course – make my sister a widow, and myself a murderer bound to be hanged. Or, I could be killed by him. In both instances, the outcome would be my death.

The alternative was to take his arm, reunite with my sisters and allow this man, this stranger with the altogether dislikeable countenance, to 'discipline' me. He might marry me off to an old, and disgusting man, or make me work as a governess for a family with twenty screaming and wailing children, or send me into exile to a place where the sun never shone. He looked capable of any of the above, and would hardly strain his well-groomed head to find a gruesome penance for me.

No matter how I looked at it, I could not think of a possibility which would make him see my reasons, and allow me to take the final examination. The desolate headmaster, who appeared to contemplate the consequences this affair would have for him, would hardly be willing to step up for me.

One week.

It was all that was left.

One week and I might have had the chance to pass.

But it was all over now.

Again, I thought of the two swords on the wall. Violence was a path I would no longer take. I had not always been able to follow Hanson's advice to avoid battles – but I would now. The only light I could see in the darkness, was the fact, that Hanson was not here to witness my ruin. He could not take me on as an assistant – even if he was willing to overlook the fact that I had not passed the exam – because he could not risk to be associated with a scandal. It would affect not only the business he was trying to build, but that of his father, as well. And ultimately, it would harm Sofia. I did not want to cause the Hansons any harm – just like I had not wanted to cause harm to my own family. It was my sister who had caused harm to me in the end. She was not even here. She had not even sent a letter to inform me about her wedding. If she and I could have spoken – if I had spoken to her much earlier – I would not be in this position. It was my fault. I had acted on my own will alone, neglected my sisters' wishes, pretended to be their saviour, only to justify my selfish reasons. I had no right to be angry at my sister. She was probably only trying to save me. Irony upon irony.

'I see no humour in this situation, Miss Joanna,' said Admiral Lowell astonished by my laughter. 'My patience is coming to an end. What will it be?'

I looked him straight in the eye and said: 'Dear Admiral, please take good care of Elizabeth and Eleanor. Tell them that I love them, and wish them all the best.'

'What nonsense is this,' uttered he and made a step towards me. But he was too slow, I was already at the door, yanking it open. Outside, all the students had gathered. At their head stood Rajesh Greenfield. The dense crowd of boys blocked my escape. The Admiral was but a few strides away.

I threw my head back and howled like a wolf. Without a moment's hesitation, Greenfield joined in. The boys, not all but more than I would have thought, did the same. They made way for me, like a last act of honour to Jonathan Ryde who had been one of them, and closed the gap as soon as I had passed. Behind me, I heard the Admiral yell angrily at them. But wolves were wild animals that acted on instinct rather than reason. The Admiral should have know better than to waste his breath on a pack of wild beasts.

Like many times before, I ran across the college green. For the last time, I breathed in the air which was stuck between the four school buildings – the Main Building, the Academic Building, the Fencing Hall, and the halls of residence – where I had gotten to know love, friendship, and rivalry. Even without the graduation certificate, my horizon had broadened. I had seen a glimpse of the privilege of knowledge, and, there was no reason why I should not continue to strive to learn more about the world. There were libraries, there were people I could talk to. All I had to do was find my place. It did not end with Kenwood. It was only the beginning.

Suddenly, I was torn from my thoughts. Someone was running behind me. I heard heavy breathing along with heavy foot steps. How could the Admiral have fought his way through the crowd so quickly? With an acceleration of my heart and legs, I pushed on faster. He could not catch me. He could simply not.

'Jojojonathan!'

The Admiral did not know that name. And he could not speak with Terry's voice. I halted and whirled round.

The red-faced boy was running at me under the full speed of his short and chubby legs. It was good to see that he was completely healed.

When he reached me his throat was gasping for air most violently, but he took no moment to rest. He had something in his hands.

'Here,' he handed me the bundle. 'I grabbed as much as I could, when I heard... about...,' he bend down holding his knees so as not to fall over from the heavy breaths he needed to take.

I put my hand on his shoulder: 'Thank you, Terry. You are the best friend a man... girl can wish for.'

He looked at me with wet eyes, and, with a strength I did not think him capable of, he threw his arms around me, and squeezed me tightly in an embrace.

'I will miss you, Jo,' he sobbed. 'Please, let me know where you are staying, and if you need any help, at all. I can marry you, if you need me to. I owe you a great deal. I will do anything to help.'

It was me this time whose eyes were becoming moist.

'I promise,' I said fighting down a sob, 'I will contact you when things have settled down.'

He released me and I saw over his shoulder that the door to the main building was opening. The Admiral came into view. Some twenty boys were still sabotaging his efforts to chase me, but he had managed to fight off the others. There was little time left.

Terry and I nodded at each other, and I was on my feet again, running for dear life. Behind the fencing hall was a trap door that I hoped to find in the high grass. It was the only way for me to escape for the school was surrounded by a tall fence with sharp ends. Even if I climbed it, the Admiral would have a good chance to catch me. He certainly would run after me through all of London if he had to. If I took the path through the secret labyrinth underneath the school and climbed through the well at the other side, I had a chance to escape.

With adrenaline surging through my veins, my senses were on edge, and my arms and legs worked quickly, pushing apart the grass along the wall of the Fencing Hall. There it was. The trap door. I opened it with some strain and jumped into the damp and stuffy air. The rotten door fell shut behind me with a loud thud. The darkness embraced me.

My deep breaths penetrated the thick silence. Though I could not see my surroundings, I knew I had no time to loose. The Admiral might find the trapdoor. I had to keep moving.

With one hand, I held the bundle close to my chest, with the other I felt my way along the wall. I did not allow my mind to consider the eventuality of getting lost in this cold and damp place.

On and on, I went. Deeper and deeper into the tunnel. There were crossings along the way. I tried to smell where fresh air was coming from. Panic was building up within me, as I had to admit, that there was very little air, at all, and that there was no distinct smell that could guide the way. Then, I employed my memory, and tried to remember which route Redford had taken, when he had rescued Terry and me. I pretended to remember, if only to fight the panic. If I got lost, Hanson would save me, I told myself. It was a thought that did help. I imagined him learning about what had happened. He would be furious, or maybe he would shake his head, and say he knew all along that this would be the outcome.

I remembered how we had sat in his room that one night, how we talked, how he wanted me to stay, and how happy it had made me. One day, I would look for him. Not now, of course, the risk to involve him would be too great. But some day, when he would run a proper hospital, and might even be married and have children. Then, I would earnestly wish him all the happiness that the world had the capability of giving, for I would not harbour these feelings of love for him, forever. They hurt too much. The air suddenly disappeared completely. I stumbled with my back against the wall, and dropped to my knees. Tightly, I squeezed the bundle Terry had given me to my chest, and felt the tears run down my cheeks in silence. My chest hurt from the feelings that where trying to burst from it. I fought the sob for as long as I could. When it did escape me, it echoed loudly through the tunnels. I sobbed once more, and then noticed how in one of the tunnels there was a different kind of echo, one that ended abruptly while the others continued. I picked myself up and went into the direction of the short echo. When I turned a corner, there was a dead end. But there was light. Light that streamed through the well above my head.

I wiped the tears from my face, and dusted the dirt from my knees. For the first time I took a look at the bundle in my hand. Terry had grabbed what he could from the wardrobe in my room and stuffed it into the little sack, with which I had arrived at Kenwood. There was one pair of beige trousers, one white shirt, two jackets, one beige, one green, one ornamented waistcoat, and a pair of fancy leather shoes. They were all clothes that Miss Durdle had given me. I felt the sack for a little patch I had sown onto the inside of it. It was near the bottom. Clever, clever Terry. Genius, indeed. How good of him to have chosen to bring me the sack, as well as the clothes. I tore off the patch and retrieved from it a twenty pound note. It was the first money Mr Sears had ever given me. The very one my sisters had refused so fervently.

I lay everything down, and began taking off the jacket, waistcoat, and shirt I was wearing. Admiral Lowell would be looking all over town for me, describing me as a girl who wore a Kenwood school uniform. I would not give him the benefit of knowing what I was really wearing. On top of that, I knew parts of London where he would never dare look for me. I would outwit him in every respect until he got bored of looking. He might have disciplined hundreds of men – but hundreds of men where nothing compared to one girl!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 29

 

JOANNA AND JONATHAN

 

London was a huge town where many different people lived. Anonymous crowds stormed from one end of the city to the other on a daily basis. Wild traffic ruled the streets and bridges, in the mornings and evenings cattle being led to and from the markets filled the gaps that were not otherwise taken up by humans or vehicles. It was easy to disappear in this sea of living things. To passer-bys I was but a well-dressed lad going about his business; son of some middle-class man or other. I was someone to sell goods to, someone to accommodate at one of the many coffee shops, or, if I refused to be a customer, I was someone to be disregarded. None of the eagerly shouting shop ladies or market sellers knew that I was homeless, and an orphan. Those were strange facts for me to acknowledge myself. Two days ago, my paramount concern was to pass an exam, now I feared to be murdered if I walked into the wrong part of town at night. I had not slept for thirty-nine hours. The past two nights I had spent walking about, trying to keep out the cold by rubbing my palms against one another. I was agitated, tired, and scared. If I stayed awake for another night, I would drop dead from exhaustion. Furthermore, I had not eaten anything since I left Kenwood, either. When I attempted to buy a pastry from a bakery, the woman looked strangely at me when I offered her the twenty pounds – she must have either thought that the money was not genuine or that I had stolen it. She probably tried to estimate if my clothes and general appearance suited the numbers on the paper I held, and eventually said that she did not have enough change. I felt her eyes on my back long after I had left her store.

Following this unpleasant experience, I was too anxious to try any other shop. It was too conspicuous to pay with a twenty pound note. With the Admiral looking for me, I did not want to burn my image into the minds of the local shop owners. How distressing to have money but no way of using it. My mind was not functioning properly to find a solution, because I was using up all of my strength for my feet. In addition, my paranoia was growing, too. Twice already I had seen a man in a carriage who looked like the Admiral. One time I saw him in the street.

There was a commotion near the river bank just as I was passing. Thames had choked up another body. There were a couple of them lined up along the shore each morning. Usually, I tried not to look at them for fear of having their images remain permanent memories. Unfortunately, this time, I could not keep myself from gazing at the corpse because it lay straight ahead. I saw instantly why the scene caused people to stop, and lower their hats in shock. There, on the greenish brown, stinking sand, washed up by the waves of the deep river, lay the body of a girl clutching the body of a baby. Her face had been eaten by the fish. No. It was not the fish. It was Syphilis that had disfigured her features.

I found myself standing beside her and observing the disease. Strangely, it did not shock me, the way it should. Maybe I had grown immune to shock, or maybe I would have been a perfect doctor, myself – with a sober look on patients' ailments. I had seen enough gore while under Dr Hanson's medical guidance. I would have liked to find a cure for this girl.

'Do you know her, lad?' asked a man who was about to put his hat back on.

'I have seen her sell matches and... other things on Southwark bridge,' I admitted with less emotion in my voice than was in my heart.

'Pity. Such a young one.'

'Pity, indeed.'

I left when someone arrived with a barrel and tossed the bodies without respect or mercy. I could not bare to watch and was glad that Hanson would not learn of the Syphilis girl.

'Mr Ryde,' somebody yelled my name suddenly, and I was about to run before even looking to see who it was. It was the merry way in which it was uttered however, that stopped me.

'It is you, indeed.'

'I told you it was.'

'What a pleasant surprise.'

'Whatever might you be doing here?'

'When it is a school day.'

'Such a beautiful, sunny day.'

'Don't you find?'

Lucy and Daisy stood before me, and chatted on like it was their wont. My mind took a long moment to produce an adequate reply.

'Oh, but you look ghastly.'

'Look at the circles under Mr Ryde's eyes!'

'Her skin is transparent.'

'Mr Ryde are you unwell?'

'Of course, she is.'

Was my mind playing tricks on me, or did Lucy just say 'she'?

'Mr Ryde, would you like to come home with us?'

'We have only just come from work.'

'We have leftover cake from the hotel's restaurant.'

'Would you like to join us for tea?'

'You have no idea how much the gentle folks throw away.'

'What they don't want, we shall enjoy.'

Tea and cake were the key words that sent my gears in motion. I nodded to the girls, and said a few incoherent words to express my gratitude. Lucy and Daisy surrounded me, and tucked their arms into mine. Like this we walked down The Strand, crossed Waterloo Bridge, and were soon in Southwark. The twins chatted on and on, as I focussed to keep a steady stride. It was not far to their home, but halfway there my legs began to wobble. Summer heat brought with it new smells that my nose was not accustomed to.

'Oh, Mr Ryde, I only just remembered.'

'So did I.'

'He is looking for you.'

'Mightn't we tell him you are with us?'

'He will be so pleased.'

'He has been looking everywhere.

'And asking everyone.'

'No, do not tell him,' I interposed firmly.

Thinking about the Admiral made me sicker than the stink, that lay heavily on the narrow side street. They talked without even the smallest of pauses and it was the best of noises to fall asleep to as we finally arrived at their home. At first, I dreamt of nothing. It was as though a lamp had been turned off, and there was nothing but darkness to be seen. At some point, however, through my sleep, I began dreaming of Hanson. We were in the same room, but he was unaware of my presence. He was talking to somebody. The other person I could not see. The room was strange. It had no furniture, no walls, no floor, and yet it was a room. Unlike everything else, I could see Hanson clearly, hear his voice clearly.

'I believe congratulations are due,' said the other person. I could distinguish a silhouette but there was no face to go with it. Hanson smiled – that I saw clearly. It was as though the light shone on him in an otherwise dark room.

'Why might they be due,' he asked with a voice and face that betrayed hidden sorrow. The kind of sorrow he would always cover with a sad smile. Sometimes he smiled at Sofia that way, when she was not looking. I remembered him giving me such a smile, when I was being bullied by Chester and his wolves.

'Well, you are engaged to be married. Is it not cause for celebration?' The other party, it transpired, was uncertain, and careful.

Neither appeared to think there was indeed a cause for celebration, and was expecting the other party to state the opposite. It could only mean, that Hanson had finally proposed to Abigail Johnson. No sane person could express heartfelt happiness on such an occasion. I had prepared myself for it, and maybe this dream was like a final warning – I knew I was dreaming but I felt my chest tighten regardless.

'I suppose it is,' said Hanson thoughtfully.

'Abigail Johnson is a fine young lady of handsome wealth,' the invisible person said in a desperate effort to build up enthusiasm.

'Mrs Banks,' said Hanson accusingly. When he uttered her name, Mrs Banks stepped into the light that was encapsulating Hanson, and I was able to see her face, too. 'Of all people you certainly know the reason why I proposed to Abigail Johnson. I shall not fool you, if you do not attempt to fool me.'

Mrs Banks sighed a long and dreary sigh.

'Are you not going too far? Is there no other way?'

'I am afraid not. If there was, I would have taken it. But there is no need to worry, everything will be fine.'

'Oh, well,' she sighed again. 'I suppose if you are so sure about it, then there is no reason why I should doubt you.'

'Indeed there is not. Now,' said Hanson as a way to introduce a new subject, 'what should we do about our sleeping beauty, here? She needs to wake soon, or I will begin to worry.'

In my dream I could not see who he was talking about. It made no sense to me. There was probably someone else in the room, too, but I was suddenly too tired to comprehend it. My head hurt, and was buzzing like a wasps' nest. I felt like crying, because I did not want Hanson to marry Abigail. I wanted him to be happy, but not with her. Why did it have to be her?

'Oh, look,' exclaimed Mrs Banks.

I wanted to run away from Hanson and her. I wanted to run back into the blackness of my dream. It was my dream and they had outstayed their welcome in it. But I ran not quickly enough. Someone held me by the hand, and I could not move. It was a warm and soft hand. It could only be Hanson's. I was afraid to look at him. I did not want him to see me right now.

'Joanna, are you awake?' he asked shaking me slightly.

I realised, that I really was awake, and had listened to their real conversation, only I had been still dozing. The reason why I could see his face so clearly without opening my eyes, was because I knew him well. I could feel his expressions by the way he spoke, and by the way he remained silent. It also meant that I was really crying, and that it was my crying which had exposed me. My face was wet, and the pillow too. Without opening my eyes, I covered them with my hands, and turned towards the pillow. I could not place the exact reason why I was crying. In fact, there were too many reasons.

'Oh, come here,' he said like I was a small child that had taken a fall. He took me by the shoulders with both hands, and made me sit up so that he could hug me while I cried on his shoulder. His embrace, though a little too firm, offered inexplicable comfort – and soon it would be reserved for Abigail alone.

'This time,' he said quietly, 'you really scared me, Joanna.'

His embrace tightened to a point that was no longer comfortable, he was beginning to hurt me.

'I was imagining all sorts of horrors that could have happened to you in those two days you were missing. Why didn't you come to me, Sofia or Mrs Banks immediately?' he sounded as though he could not bring himself to express the full extent of his anger due to the worry I had put him through. The only thing he could do, was squeeze me tighter.

'I am sorry,' I wheezed under the pressure of his arms. Even though he hurt me I did not want him to let go. What if this was the last time he would ever embrace me? 'I did not want to involve you in my scandal... and I did not think...'

'You did not think we would be willing to take you in?' he demanded with a trembling voice that almost resembled a growl. 'How can you think that, Joanna?'

I dug my finger into his jacket, and mumbled how sorry I was. The tears started flowing from my eyes with renewed strength. His hold softened, and he began patting my back and head, until there were no more tears left to cry.

When I regained my composure and wiped my face. Hanson informed me that there was food and news waiting for me. I was eager to receive both.

While I ate the fresh rolls of bread with a thick layer of butter on them, and drank my tea greedily, Mrs Banks watched with delight. I had slept for thirteen hours, after the twins had brought me into the house. Lucy and Daisy had told Mrs Banks that I had asked them not to let Hanson know that they had found me, but she would have none of it, and sent the girls for him right away. Hanson looked accusingly at me. I explained that it was not Hanson I had been talking about, but the Admiral. I had thought it was him that the girls had meant. Hanson's expression did not change however. He repeated that I should have come straight to him, and the fact that I did not, was proof of my lack of trust in him. To this, I said nothing, for it was not a lack of trust in him, but a lack of trust in myself that had kept me away. But to admit it to him would have been the same as screaming in his face that I loved him.

'You should not worry too much on my behalf from now on,' I said eventually. Holding my tongue had  never been a strength of mine. 'You have someone else to think and worry about.'

I said it with more regret than I would have wished to voice.

'Eavesdropping, Joanna, is unbecoming,' observed Hanson disapprovingly. 'However, my engagement is none of your concern, and I should ask you not to waste too many sleepless nights over it.'

'That is cruel,' I said without thinking, and slapped my hand over my mouth but the words were out.

He gave me a vile look. I would look at myself the same way if I were him.

'Under ordinary circumstances I would tell you about my intentions and plans,' he bent down on his elbows towards me across the table. 'But because of the way in which you have behaved towards me, and because of the misery you have put me through – Oh, you have no idea! I have been all over London and by the river, hoping with all my heart that I would not find your face among the drowned – I shall not provide you with any knowledge of my motives whatsoever. Worry your little head all you want.'

Hanson's eyes became evil slits that sparkled like a snake's. I had never seen him like this. There was sadistic enjoyment in the way he spoke.

'Imagine me kissing her on our wedding night, how does that make you feel?' he leaned closer to me.

I had a piece of roll in my hand which now dropped to the floor. My face heated up to the temperature of glowing iron. Mrs Banks muffled a chuckle with her hand and pretended to cough.

'Soon Abigail will be in my arms, and no one shall ever come between us. Abigail Hanson, does it not sound grand?'

I thought there were no tears left in me, but I was disabused of that notion when new ones built up, but I would throw myself into Thames, tied to a rock, if I let even one of them fall. Another urge I felt was to run out the door, but the only destination I could think of was the bottom of the river, therefore I remained where I was, gaped at Hanson like a half-wit.

'You knew about,' I cleared my throat because my voice was practically non-existent, 'about my... my... fee-'

'Of course, I did. I know everything. You cannot hide anything from me. Therefore, don't do it, because I find out eventually,' he sat back satisfied.

I was close to the bottom of the river. His words echoed in my mind – and I realised something odd.

'Find out eventually?' I repeated. 'It means you did not know. You were suspecting, and I almost admitted it.'

'No, not almost. You did admit it, just now. Mrs Banks is my witness. What I knew or did not know before does not matter, because I know now.'

'You are an imposter,' I claimed rising from my chair, 'you know nothing, and I admitted to nothing.'

'You asked if I knew about your feelings.'

'I did no such thing. I asked weather you knew about my fees.'

'This makes no sense.'

'Yes it does, I meant to ask whether or not you knew about the school fees. Since I was expelled, will my fees be refunded in part?'

'Liar,' he yelled and rose from his own chair, and stepped around the table to approach me, but I walked away from him. We circled the piece of wooden furniture clockwise. Mrs Banks was giggling like a little girl. I was not sure if either of us was serious, but I would not be the one to show a smile first.

'You wanted to say 'feelings'.'

'You cannot prove that I did. What I said was 'fee'.'

'Is that so?'

'Yes, it is.'

'Then why do you not stop walking away from me, and say it to my face.'

'No, thank you.'

'Stop,' he turned around and changed direction. Our pace remained steady as I changed direction, too.

'No.'

'You are being a child.'

'You are the one coming after me.'

'I have a reason to come after you.'

'Which is?'

'Stop walking away from me, and you will find out.'

'You can tell me from where you are.'

'Alright,' he began walking a little quicker, and I did too. 'I want to kiss you.'

Mrs Banks exclaimed a vowel of delight as though she was the one he wanted to kiss, and, excited as she was, she kicked another chair accidentally against my foot. I fell flat to the floor. When I propped up on my hands, Hanson was squatting down in front of me, his face dangerously close to mine. He looked into my eyes with an expression that I could not help but love.

'Can I?'

'Do you intend to marry Abigail?'

'No.'

'Are you engaged to her?'

'Yes.'

'Then, no,' I rose to my feet that had become weak from my own resolve. Hanson rose to his full body height, and I wished he would choose not to listen to me, and just kiss me anyway. He was so much bigger and broader than me, I would not be able to stop him, but I would pretend to, of course. It was a matter of principle, after all.

He made a step back.

'Very well,' he said slightly disappointed but with a serious, unwavering expression. 'I suppose, you are right.'

I had never been any more wrong in my entire life. Did he not see it? The man I loved had asked to kiss me, and I, the biggest scandal in the history of scandals, chose to be one virtuous scandal. Oh, I could slap myself.

'Bravo,' said Mrs Banks and began clapping her hands. She was so taken with our performance that she gave standing ovations. My face discovered a new shade of red.

'One more thing, Miss Ryde,' said Hanson. There was this hateful 'Miss Ryde' again. 'I believe you have a very important examination coming up. So, why are you here and not in the library. As your headmaster, I am afraid to say, it is my duty to see that every student is on the school premises studying.'

I stared at him in disbelief and stuttered a number of questions that I failed to finish.

'The former headmaster unexpectedly resigned. I believe, there was an incident with a girl who had dressed as a boy – I do not know the details. He was greatly distressed over the matter and chose to retire prematurely. Next school year there will be a new headmaster, but this term Mr Ferring, Mr Walsh, and the other teachers appointed me as acting headmaster. As this is my last term I am not afraid to be demoted for making a mistake, or allowing a girl to take the examinations. We all agreed. The other teachers would be as disappointed as I if our favourite student failed the exam.'

'But... have I not been expelled?'

'The former headmaster has resigned before arranging your expulsion, and the current headmaster has no intentions on the matter,' reported Hanson proudly.

'But... what if Admiral Lowell comes looking for me?'

'Kenwood will be the last place he will look for you.'

Indeed, Admiral Lowell would have to be completely mad to step foot onto Kenwood grounds. But even if he did go so far as to come back I would run away again. It was a risk worth taking.

I threw my arms around his neck and yelled 'Thank you!' an uncountable number of times.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 30

 

PROMISE AND PROPOSAL

 

The day I came back to Kenwood, Rajesh Greenfield greeted me with a handshake, which he made sure was seen by as many of the other boys as possible. He whispered in my ear that misfits had to stand by each other. From that moment on, I was welcomed with nothing but respect. Many acknowledging nods were directed my way, whispers of admiration and sometimes confusion followed me through the corridors. The special treatment was discomforting, but it did not last long. With only a few days left until the final examination, the third years focused on their work rather than me, and the first and second years all left Kenwood to enjoy their summer holidays at home.

For the remainder of my school days, I blended in with the landscape of blue uniforms perfectly, after all  I was but another student, and all of my effort, the struggle, and the hardships were not in vein – I passed and graduated. Hanson and I celebrated together in his office on the third floor of the Academic Building. All his books were packed up in boxes, the shelves were naked and glum. Another teacher would move in soon but he could never fill the rooms with as much life and meaning as Hanson had.

Despite the bottle of red wine that Hanson had brought – which we gazed at thoughtfully rather than drank – it did not feel much like a celebration, we hardly talked and there was sadness as well as joy in my heart. I would not have thought it possible – I already missed the boys, and the school, and everything. Most of all I missed Terry – dear Terry had given Hanson a letter for me. So big was the boy's faith in me that he had included his congratulation in that letter which he had written several days before the actual exam, furthermore he promised to visit me and emphasised that his offer for my hand in marriage was still in effect, though he realised that my situation had improved since he had first voiced his proposal. It made me laugh and I could not help but feel the strongest of affections – though not of a romantic kind, of course, over my romantic affection Hanson held sole possession, and there was hope in that respect. Abigail had learned that Hanson wanted to spend her fortune on a hospital, but she did not want to be a doctor's wife and released him from his promise. To mend Hanson's broken heart – as she naturally assumed that his feelings must have been stronger than hers – she invested one thousand Pounds into the hospital. Though there was no evidence that Hanson had planned it, there was also very little evidence that he had not. In any case, he did not seem too disconcerted with the arrangement.

With Abigail Johnson's name on a cheque Hanson obtained a number of permissions from a number of offices – a dreary procedure, and rented a house made of solid stone walls and big windows near Waterloo Bridge, which we filled with twenty-five beds.

Hanson made a list of the medicine and supplies which would have to be stocked, he bought utensils, and a carriage, so house visits could be made at any time of the day or night. The entire one thousand Pounds and all of Hanson's savings were gone – we were now at the mercy of our patrons.

The hospital opened on the 27^th of September, 1874. Summer had remained in London, as if waiting for that very day. Autumn and the cold winter months were precisely the time when our services would be needed most.

Throughout all the struggles and problems I was by his side, and would remain there as long as he needed me. Already, I was making myself useful by taking care of the accounts. Hanson easily got lost with numbers, while I enjoyed keeping ahead of them. He had never liked numbers even though he had been a teacher of mathematics and science. No wonder most of our curriculum at Kenwood had consisted of science with only a little bit mathematics on the side.

My first official and independent act in the shaping of the hospital was to hire three nurses. Two had only just finished their training, and joined us from St Thomas's Hospital, the third was Molly, the girl Hanson had introduced me to during Christmas. She had many siblings, and would earn a lot more here than in the work house which her parents had intended to sell her to.

As for Hanson's and my personal relationship – there did not seem to be one. Too much had to be arranged to even mention the kiss which I had refused. He was a bachelor now, but appeared to have forgotten all about it. Whenever I had a minute to dwell on it, I became very depressed, and blamed myself for my notoriously bad conduct. Hanson was very busy, and again I did not want to burden him with my feelings – they could wait. There were more important things that needed to be taken care of. So far, Hanson was mostly required to make house visits. The rich and poor alike had very reserved feelings towards hospitals, and there were no cases just yet which needed constant care. Thus, Hanson was afoot or in his carriage during the day, accompanied by me – his loyal assistant. Some of the patients needed to get used to me, but most took a liking to me right away, and a few merely bore with me. Hanson said I was a great help to him, and indeed I felt like I was. If I was not required at the sick bed I tended to the relatives making sure they understood everything Hanson needed them to.

One house visit was particularly vivid in my memory, it was the first child I watched Hanson deliver. I was not conscious for all of the procedure, as I fainted somewhere between the delivery of the baby's head and feet, but what I had seen remained before my inner eye for many weeks to come. The nastiest gangrene did not make me flinch, but watching a small human being come out of a bigger one was a sight I could not bare. Hanson laughed at me and said that soon I would be delivering babies without his aid.

When we were away from hospital, the nurses were in charge, although their only work consisted of making sure that calls were noted and passed on to me or Hanson. There was little to do for the girls but Hanson kept them busy by giving them assignments to either study or practice. He could not easily shake off five years of teaching.

On the upper floor were rooms that Hanson and I occupied while staff went home at night, unless they were on the night shift. Usually, Hanson was so tired from a hard day's work that he went to his room, and sank dressed as he was on the bed, only to fall asleep instantly. Though, I was tired too, I never went to bed without doing the book keeping first. It was not looking too good. The money was running out faster than it came in. The minus was not a large one but it was undeniably growing. If we did not start taking in paying patients soon, we would run into bankruptcy before the year ended. He had worked so hard for all of it – I could not allow it to end. I recalculated but the result remained. We had arrived at a minus of eighteen Pounds and ten Shilling. In my possession I still had the twenty pounds which the old man had given me. I needed to go to the Bank of England first thing in the morning to settle the account before the bank charged interest. It was 4 a.m. In fact, I decided to go right away and wait until the bank opened. No, this was wrong. I was trying to solve everything on my own again. Hanson and I were partners – well, he was in charge, but we worked together.

The chair slid loudly across the floor, when I rose from it. With a heavy heart, I walked up and down in front of his door until I finally found the courage to enter. He had not even taken off his coat or his shoes. He lay on his belly, his face was turned to the side. It could not be a comfortable position but he did not seem to mind. I knelt down next to him and shook his shoulder carefully. He awoke with a start, then asked if it was time for the first visit already.

'No, not for hours yet,' I said hardly raising my voice above a whisper. Seeing the selfless devotion in his sleepy face made me love him more than anything in the world.

He sat up and rubbed his face: 'Is there something on your mind, then?'

'Yes,' I replied with a sigh.

'Is it our finances?'

'How do you know?'

'How can I not know – every single hospital bed is unoccupied and out of the house visits only one patient in twenty is in a position to pay for the treatment,' concluded Hanson sombrely.

'It is not quiet so bad. Right now, the difference amounts to eighteen Pounds. I will clear it in the morning.'

'I do not want that, Jo. Should you have eighteen Pounds then please do keep them. If this enterprise fails, I will be glad to know that you have some little finances to fall back on,' he held his breath for a moment, then looked at me tenderly, 'I do not want to ruin you.'

Was this the reason he had not proposed to me, because he was afraid he might not be able to look after me, provide for me?

'Just like you did not care that I might ruin you, I do not worry about my ruin through you. I have the means to postpone the moment we become indebted to the bank and I will use them. All we need is time. Time will earn people's trust, and once we have their trust, they will come to us. Besides, should our debt become insurmountable, I am not afraid of the debtor's prison. I have read Little Dorrit – it does not sound so very bad.'

'If Dickens says so,' laughed Hanson, 'I do not think, I would mind spending my life locked away from the rest of the world if you were there to visit me.'

'I would take up a room next to your cell,' I said without hesitation.

It made him laugh some more, then his features twisted into a forced smile: 'What a sad, sad prospect. A thousand Pounds are so much less than I thought they were.'

'We won't let it come to that. I believe in your skills and talent, all we need to do is persevere.'

'I will do everything I can, Jo, I promise you that,' he vowed with a strong, unwavering look upon his eyes, and took my hand into his.

Early next morning, after having slept for two hours (Hanson had insisted on it) I took the carriage to the Bank of England. I had wanted Hanson to use it but he did not allow me to walk from Waterloo to Threadneedle Street on foot when I had hardly slept. He was afraid I might not pay attention and be run down by the wild traffic. I promised to hurry so I could pick him up after his first house visit, which was not too far from our home, and accompany him on the second.

I had not been to the Bank of England on my own yet and it was a scary place to go to. I wore my best dress and even went so far as to put on a corset that half-smothered me. The buildings all around seemed like fortresses and I felt like an ant in comparison. Important looking men with big hats and long coats occupied the streets. They were a completely different sort from the one I was used to. A woman was a rare sight in their midst, and I was eyed sceptically as I entered the banks. What they did not know was that I was used to being alone among men who thought they were superior to me, and though I felt uncomfortable – I was not intimidated. Determinedly, I walked to the man at the counter. He ignored me persistently and served all the other customers, but I waited patiently and with, what I hoped was, quiet dignity and a little contempt. When there was no one left in the queue but me, and he could no longer pretend not to hear me, I voiced my request and was ushered grudgingly to one of the desks in the back of the tremendously huge hall which was entirely made of marble. Again, I was made to wait for a long time until one of the clerks strolled slowly in my direction, only to turn around upon seeing me and occupy himself with another task. I tapped my fingers on the big, fat mahogany desk, angry at myself for not having worn Hanson's clothes.

'Miss Ryde?' a high-pitched voice sounded from behind me and I turned in my large, gold-adorned armchair to look where it had come from.

'Miss Ryde, indeed it is you!' shouted a small man and walked quickly from the far end of the large hall to the desk I sat at. He wore a reasonably elegant brown suit and a hat that was nearly as tall as him. The whiskers ended in perfect circles.

'Miss Ryde, what a happy coincidence, how glad I am to see you here, I was looking all over London for you, who would have thought that you would graduate one year early,' the man scarcely took a moment to draw breath. He seemed oddly familiar, but I could not place him.

'My,' he suddenly laughed, 'you really are a girl and you bear the same serious expression as when I first met you.'

'Mr Davenport,' I exclaimed and rose form my chair to shake his hand eagerly. How could I forget the old man's legal adviser even for a moment, when the news he had brought me over a year ago had changed my life entirely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 31

 

MONEY AND MEMORY

 

I picked Hanson up at a shabby old house near Blackfriars Bridge. He was already waiting for me by the road. Judging by the blissful expression on his face the visit had gone well.

'Mr Bailey is much better than when I last visited him,' said Hanson joyfully, 'the treatment I prescribed seems to have helped greatly. You should have seen how happy his wife was,' he said all that while mounting the carriage. When he sat down next to me, he eyed me. Concern began clouding his expression. The colour of my face did not seem to meet his approval, hence he began touching my forehead, and checks and ultimately feeling my pulse, and only after performing his routine he considered asking: 'Are you unwell? Has something happened at the bank?'

'Mr Hanson,' I said formally yet with a shacking voice, 'I have a business proposition, sir, and I employ you to hear me out.'

He sat back and though I dared not look at him, I could feel how rigid he had become.

'It has come to my attention, sir, that you are running a hospital which is lacking the necessary funds to ensure a smooth operation. As I believe fervently in its success and your own skills as a doctor, I would like to buy it off you and invest ten thousand Pounds Sterling in the enterprise. Rest assured that as the owner of the hospital, I intend to change nothing about it unless we both agree that change is required. I have complete trust in you and believe that together we can achieve greatness and help everyone who needs us to help them,' my hands with the reins in them shook, so the horses thought it was a command to walk on.

'And how, might one ask, have you, Miss Ryde, arrived at ten thousand Pounds? Have you robbed the bank while you were in it?' I could not tell if he was amused, or angry, or merely confused. He was very good at keeping his composure, much better than I, for I had started crying and wailing when Mr Davenport had told me.

'No, Charles,' I said much quieter as the emotions were now tying up my throat. 'Mr Sears – the old man – has arranged for me to inherit his fortune in the event of my successful graduation from Kenwood,' the last part came out in a sob and I started crying and wailing all over again. I was as sad as I was happy because the old man was no longer with us, and would never learn what his money was going to do for the poor and the sick. He had provided me with the means to do good and to make the man I loved happy – and he would never know. Thinking about how much faith he had had in me, made me cry more and I clung to Hanson and sobbed into his coat.

'Jo,' said Hanson softly and put his arms around me, 'the hospital is my dream, are you sure you want to spend all that money on it? You could go to Oxford or Cambridge instead, and travel the whole world, live your life in ease and comfort.'

'My mind is made up,' I sniffled into his coat, 'if it weren't for you I would not have graduated, and even if I travelled the whole world I would not find home like I did with you and the hospital. It is my dream, too.'

And to prove that it was, I had a large plaque installed over the entrance the next day. It read 'Sofia's Hospital For Women and Children'. When Sofia first saw the improvement she was so touched and overwhelmed that she both laughed and cried at the same time. It was only right to have her name on a brazen plate. She was the reason Hanson had become a doctor. They had done so much for me, I was glad to give a little back.

 

The fortune had arrived just in time as our first patients came to the hospital, when a horrible fire broke out in a hotel in Covent Garden. There were so many casualties, that all the hospitals in the area had to work together to ensure adequate treatment for the injured. Hanson provided his carriage for the transportation of the sick, and hired another ten carriages to do the same. Within one afternoon, our twenty-five beds were filled with coughing, and whining humans with different severity levels of injury. Among them were Lucy and Daisy, Mrs Banks' twins. The two girls were in a good state. They had suffered a strong fright and a few bruises, as well as breathed in some smoke, other than that they needed no more than one day to recover. As the hotel they had worked at had burned down they needed a new workplace and we were most happy to provide it. Hence they joined our small team of nurses to help the people who were less fortunate.

Within a week, a great number of donations reached our account. The burnt-down hotel had been frequented by the upper classes, hence they felt it was their duty to express solidarity towards their own kind. It helped that the newspapers were describing the incident most vividly in dramatically illustrated articles. Among the donations was one made by Richard Redford who seemed to be doing well judging by the numbers on the cheque, and another one was made by Hanson's father which was of the uttermost symbolic significance to Hanson, himself, though he would probably never admit it. It meant Mr Hanson finally began believing in his sons talent.

Hanson and I did not care where our patients came from, whether they were rich or poor, we did not even insist on treating only women and children, although we were a hospital for women and children. We cured and healed whoever needed healing. Those who we were beyond the reach of our medical competence were made comfortable.

There was a large number of people that came to us weeks after the incident. They complained of chest pains and difficulties to breath. A dense cloud of smoke had stayed over the Northern part of central London for a few days after the fire, and even people who were not in Covent Garden at the time, suffered from the smoke cloud.

The patients said that other hospitals had turned them down because they were already overflowing with patients whose injuries were much more severe. We allowed ourselves the luxury to treat everyone who knocked on our door. We brought mattresses to the house, and placed them wherever there was space. We installed curtains to separate beds, and offer the sick as much privacy as possible. Along the walls, we placed chairs for those strong enough to sit and walk. And, most importantly, we kept the air in the rooms fresh, so recovery could be achieved quickly.

Hanson used up litres of phenol. I assisted during a great many operations. There were so many in fact, that he required me to relieve him of some of the tasks. Within a short period of time, I mastered the art of giving stitches, calculating the correct dose of anaesthetics, disinfecting wounds, and reading Hanson's mind. After a few weeks the rows of beds cleared, and we resumed a steadier daily routine. Our popularity, however, had demonstrably risen.

It was around Christmas that we were busily at work, when a knock at the door sounded. As always, one of the girls went to open it. I heard Molly greet the newcomers shyly. I always tried to keep an eye and ear on the girls' doings, so that I could help immediately if a situation surpassed their expertise. Some patients were ill-tempered because they were in discomfort. They vented their anger on our nurses. Particularly Molly was an easy prey, because she was small and shy, although she worked harder than any of the other girls. It seemed to be the case, this time. Whoever was at the door seemed to be giving her a hard time, for her voice was becoming quieter. I did not hear what they were saying exactly, but I could tell Molly needed someone to stand beside her. When I joined her in the doorway, I looked into the face of an elegant lady. Her hair was put up in a beautiful hairstyle, braided with flowers, and ribbon, and a small bonnet that was sitting diagonally on her head – the latest fashion no doubt. The dress, I could not begin to describe, it was glowing brighter than the sun. The fabric looked more like gold than gold itself, with elegant embroidery of flowers that swayed and danced after every one of her moves. Fur lay about her shoulders, and reached to her lower back. A gentleman stood behind her, at the foot of the stairs. Under the shadow of his long hat, I saw a neatly trimmed beard and whiskers stand out. He wore a thick wool-coat, with fur about the collar.

In contrast to her, Molly and I looked like church mice. The nurses' uniforms were of an understated, but elegant design, of good quality, and cut in a way which would not compromise their movement. It was important to me that my staff were kept warm and comfortable, in response the girls seemed to wear it with pride. As for me, I wore men clothes when in hospital, and a plain black dress – no underskirts, no corset – when making house visits. The frequency of house visits was now reduced, as only the upper classes felt a need for it. Of course, we could not ask a lady to come down to the hospital when she claimed to have been befallen by the most violent headache. The sight of the poor, and the sick would only make her state worse, and lead to her immediate death. For her to live on, Hanson and I were required to come to her house, pat her hand, and tell her that all would be well in the morning. She paid handsomely for it, therefore we had no reason to complain. A lot of the wealthy patients paid even more than the overpriced bills we sent them. They knew about the free treatment we offered those who could not pay, and even if the poor were not a business they would discuss at a fancy dinner, they did have a conscience which commanded them to help us continue with our work. There was mutual appreciation and respect between us. To keep it so, I wore a dress as part of the service. There was no need for provocation. I knew when to insist on my principles and when to let them rest. Thus, it was all the more surprising to find one such wealthy lady at our door.

'Dearest sister,' exclaimed she and threw her arms around my neck. Her clothes pressed coldly to the thin shirt, and waistcoat, I was wearing. Hanson and I had fought over the waistcoat only this morning. Though it was his, I found it suit me much better.

This woman's cold embrace startled me. It was only when she released me, that I was able to distinguish my sister's features under a heavy veil of powder, rouge, and lipstick.

'Elizabeth,' I mouthed shocked by the sudden encounter.

I had completely forgotten the blood-smeared apron I was still wearing, after having assisted Hanson during an operation in the theatre. I took it off immediately.

'Oh dear,' squealed Elizabeth, whose furs had been stained by blood.

'I can clean it for you, Ma'am,' suggested Molly reaching with her tiny hands towards Elizabeth's grand figure.

A number of unpleasant expressions graced my sister's features. Her disgust turned to aversion for the small girl, whose lowly upbringing could hardly qualify her to know the correct treatment fur required. Being well-mannered, herself, Elizabeth politely refused, and said that her maid would tend to it. She did not bother taking it off. Her features became more agreeable when her face turned away from Molly.

I did not know what to do with my sister, what to say to her, or how to feel about her sudden arrival. My own up-bringing suggested that I should offer her, and the Admiral, who watched us attentively from his position by the stairs, a cup of tea and some biscuits.

The party followed me to the upper floor. We walked past a room with a sick bed. The person lying in it, although sleeping peacefully without any visible sign of disease or injury, caused Elizabeth to draw a handkerchief from her sleeve and hold it to her nose.

'This is Mrs MacMelcom,' I whispered. 'She suffers from severe back pains. As a girl she worked in a coal mine, where she was forced to carry heavy things and climb narrow tunnels.'

'Fascinating,' said my sister in a way that suggested it did not interest her in the slightest.

It hurt me that my dear sister, the one who had raised me, had become indifferent to the sufferings of others. She had always held herself with an air of entitlement but never as strongly as this. I swallowed my feelings, and decided not to mention anything further concerning our patients. She had chosen to visit me, and I should be grateful for that.

We only had a small sitting room on the upper floor. At first, Hanson and I ate our meals alone here, but now we were always joined by our nurses. They were part of our family.

Elizabeth did not approve of the limited space and the cheap furniture, but other than her flaring nostrils, there were no signs to give away her discomfort.

'Molly, will you fetch Dr Hanson,' I asked the girl as sweetly as I could, because she looked so very much afraid of my admittedly intimidating sister. 'He is in the theatre, finishing up after the operation. And please tell cook to make some tea for us. I believe he only just made fresh cake this morning? Be so kind as to bring it.'

'Yes, Jo,' said Molly and curtsied to Elizabeth, who rolled her eyes as soon as Molly was out of sight.

'You allow the maid to call you 'Jo'?' asked Elizabeth bewildered by such barbarous customs.

'She is not a maid,' I opposed, 'she is a nurse.'

'What is your function? Are you a nurse, too?'

'I am somewhere between head nurse and assistant surgeon, and I keep the books and accounts.'

The Admiral sneered. It was the first time he made any noise at all, and already I was reminded of my feelings of contempt towards him.

'Has something upset you, Admiral?' I inquired with an authority befitting my position.

'Forgive me, Madam,' he said fighting to keep his expression steady and not to succumb to laughter. 'I found it humouring that a woman should call herself both assistant surgeon, and accountant.'

'I am glad I was able to amuse you,' I retorted standing my ground. 'Even if I cannot see how exactly I did it.'

Just then, Hanson entered, and greeted the Admiral and his wife politely and with perfectly believable enthusiasm. We all sat down to enjoy the tea and cake Molly carried in. Elizabeth cleaned the rim of her cup with her silk handkerchief before allowing it to touch her lips.

'Eleanor is well, I trust,' I asked my sister after she was done poking invisible hazards from her piece of cake.

'Oh, yes, very much so,' she exclaimed. 'Eleanor stays with us in London. She enjoys the diversions the town offers.'

'You live in London?' I sipped my tea.

'Yes, near Primrose Hill. It is only just behind-'

'Marylebone Station, I know,' it was the area where some of our wealthiest patients lived.

Hanson asked the Admiral about Abigail's well-being, and the Admiral confirmed that he had left her in good health the last time he had visited her. Once it was established that all of our female relations were in good health and spirits we turned to our tea and politely glared at each other.

I did not know why Elizabeth had come, and I could not persuade myself to believe that she had merely missed me. Downstairs, there was work waiting to be done, patients who needed their doctor's care, but Hanson and I were stuck upstairs, tied up by an uncomfortable quietness of unvoiced accusations. Hanson would not leave me alone with the two of them, no matter how long they decided to stay. I wished they would go already. It was enough for me to have seen Elizabeth, and to know she was well and satisfied.

'Dr Hanson,' began the Admiral, 'do you not mind one of your nurses wearing men's clothing?'

The Admiral seemed to have neglected the description I had given him of my position. To him it was probably the same as if I had told him, that the hospital carriage was driven by a unicorn with a rainbow-coloured tail.

'None of the nurses are wearing men's clothing,' opposed Hanson pretending to misunderstand the Admiral's meaning.

'Is my sister-in-law not employed here?'

'No, sir,' Hanson chose not to elaborate. Admiral Lowell already thought it was nonsense that I was an accountant, what would he say if he knew the truth? There really was no need to anger him.

'I see,' nodded he satisfied, 'in that case, my bidding should not pose too much of a loss for your hospital.'

'What bidding, sir' Hanson became more cautious yet which made me grow more rigid.

'I would like to ask you to release my sister-in-law for she is to come live with us. We have found a suitable man for her who will be happy to take her hand in marriage. After all that has happened it is the most delicate, discreet, and appropriate way to deal with her situation,' the Admiral finished his speech by placing his empty cup back onto the saucer with a loud clunk.

'And who might that man be?' asked Hanson curiously.

'One of your former students, doctor,' said the Admiral thinking familiarity must be a benefit, 'William Chester.'

I managed to catch the laugh with my palm before it escaped my lips. Hanson looked as though he was trying to remember who William Chester was.

'Ah, yes, I recall him' said Hanson scratching his chin. 'He was an excellent and respectable young man until he drugged a number of his peers with the illegitimate application of laudanum. He was expelled for it. Do you remember him, Joanna?'

'Vaguely, Charles,' I uttered fighting a very persistent giggle.

'I am sure he has seen his mistake,' said the Admiral a little flustered but he recovered quickly, 'after all, he has joined the Royal Navy and there is no room for foolishness there. We can call ourselves lucky that he is willing to take her hand in marriage for only a small sum as compensation for his troubles.'

Chester's consent to marry me could only derive from a very strong wish to torment me. No doubt, he held me responsible for his expulsion in some way or another. His mind only worked to see the fault in others, but never in himself. The only way he could feel a sense of fulfilment was when everyone around him was more miserable than he.

'I am afraid, I cannot consent to such a bond,' retorted Hanson putting his own cup, which he had hardly drunk from, on the table.

'Your consent is needed, sir,' said the Admiral slowly beginning to display a temper.

'Joanna, dear,' spoke my sister. 'Pray, be reasonable. This is the best possible solution for all involved.'

'Would you want me to marry a man, whom to live with was torture?' I asked her. It was no longer funny. All I wanted was to hear that of course she would have never suggested it had she known his character, because I was her little sister, and she loved me.

'Nonsense, darling,' she uttered. 'You are greatly exaggerating. He is a very...,' she paused to think of his many traits of which not one would put him in a positive light, '...agreeable young man. You cannot think of only yourself. It is my position you need to consider.'

There was nothing I could say in response. I searched Hanson's eyes, he understood everything I did not know how to put into words. And answered my helpless look with one of infinite compassion and kindness. He left it to me, however, to settle the affair. It was my prerogative and he respected that.

'Dear sister,' I said and took a deep breath, 'I shall not come with you. I am quite happy and comfortable where I am.'

'This will not do,' Elizabeth rose to her feet and built herself up in front of me in all her splendid glory, and blood-smeared extravagance.

Molly came back more flushed than before. She announced that another lady had come. Abigail entered and the splendour in the room doubled if not tripled. Her dress was so massive that she had trouble passing through the doorway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 32

 

COMPANY AND COMAPNIONSHIP

 

'Papa,' Abigail sang, and both Hanson and the Admiral rose from their chairs. Abigail gave her father a kiss on the cheek and allowed Hanson to kiss her hand, then she turned to Elizabeth who seemed a little less confident and a little less comfortable than she had been only just a moment ago.

'Dear mama-in-law,' smiled Abigail with a hint of sarcasm in her otherwise perfectly amiable voice.

Only then did I realise that my sister was indeed a year younger than her daughter-in-law. I did not know what to think of it, but I was surprised to find that I was glad to see Abigail, even though the air in the small sitting room became thinner – particularly when the two marvellous woman began trying to out-glare each other.

'Are you quite comfortable in London, dear mama,' inquired Abigail with unmistakable humour that almost seemed a little vile.

'Quite comfortable,' replied Elizabeth with a much less dominant voice than she had used with me.

'I am glad to hear it. It can be a little daunting, I imagine, after having having lived in the country side all your life. Though not as daunting as Paris or New York, I am sure,' said Abigail who never failed to allude to her supreme position in life and the numerous travels she had been on.

'To be sure,' consented Elizabeth and her rosy cheeks whitened a little despite the powder.

Admiral Lowell made no attempt to come to his wife's rescue, and though I had difficulty to choose a side, myself, I thought it very inappropriate of him to leave Elizabeth at Abigail's mercy.

'Abigail,' said Hanson being once again the knight in shining armour, 'how very good of you to visit us. As you can see, your generous investment has been put to good use.'

'Indeed, it has,' nodded Abigail looking about the room and its lacking style. Hanson and I had chosen inexpensive and practical furniture – whether or not the pieces matched one another had been secondary. 'And I am glad you did choose to name your hospital after your sister – I cannot think of a name that would have been more suitable,' she added grudgingly which made it clear she had expected her own name to be on the plate.

'Well,' said Hanson, 'it is not my hospital to name. Jo is the legal owner.'

A deadly silence befell the room that made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. Elizabeth was the first to find her voice: 'You are the owner, Jo? How is that possible?'

'Do you remember how I told you that I would find means to provide for you and Eleanor if only I graduated from Kenwood and pursued a career?'

'Of course, I remember, it was perfect nonsense. You risked to ruin us all.'

'But I have not ruined you, have I? And due to the money we received while I was in school, you were able to go to Portsmouth, and dress nicely, and meet the Admiral, is it not so? And if you had waited a little more, you would have learned that Mr Sears' kindness did not end there. But one should not speak of business matters in the company of such formidable ladies whom to bore would be a sin, therefore I shall refrain from it.'

Elizabeth was aghast and I felt for her, even though it was her fault. Who could have known how the tables would turn? She would not have needed to marry the Admiral if she had trusted me. My only hope was that she felt at least some affection for him and that he saw more in her than just a pretty face.

'So sorry to bother you again,' said Molly through a crack in the door and announced that a gentleman had come.

'Terry,' I exclaimed and jumped from my chair. I wanted to throw my arms around him but remembered that there were far too many people looking and that a handshake would more than do to shock them.

He smiled timidly and asked if it was a bad time but I insisted that he could not have chosen a better one. He scarcely sat down when Molly was at the door again.

'Another gentleman has come.'

'By all means do let him in', Hanson said with dramatic enthusiasm, 'I am rather set on receiving all of London today. Perhaps a small entry fee would be in order seeing as we are so popular.'

It was Mr Hanson who entered and Charles went quite pale.

'You seem to have discovered your business sense, my son. How fortunate,' noted Mr Hanson in his usual emotionless demeanour. 'Mrs Johnson what a pleasant surprise,' said he and kissed her hand, she was pleased to be treated with the respect and admiration she thought she deserved and glanced at Elizabeth to make sure she took notice of it. Mr Hanson then looked about the room displeased to find all the other people in it.

'Mr Hanson,' said the Admiral amiably.

'Captain Lowell,' returned Hanson's father with bored eyes.

'It is Admiral now, sir,' corrected the Admiral proudly.

'I beg your pardon, Admiral.'

Mr Hanson must have come on business and was annoyed to waste time exchanging pleasantries with a retired Admiral who was of no consequence to an influential business man of his standing.

Molly brought more tea and cups. The poor girl's hands were shaking under the weight of the tray.

'What brings you here, father,' asked Hanson in a confidential manner.

'I have business with you my son that I would like to discuss privately.'

Hanson looked to me to ascertain if I could handle the situation. I did not think that I could but I nodded any way.

'Very well, father, but I do not have much time.'

'Neither do I.'

They left the room and I listened to their foot steps as they went into the study two doors further down the hall. It was the only study we had and I used it mostly for book keeping. I suddenly wished I had cleaned and organised it better – what would Hanson's father think when he saw the mess of files and folders all stacked up on the desk? How embarrassing.

'Jo,' whispered Terry and smiled as I left my daydream to focus my attention on him. 'I came to see how you were. This place is wonderful, I bet you are immensely proud.'

'I am,' I admitted and felt my chest swell. There was plenty to be proud of, and no matter how haughty the Admiral, or my sister, or Abigail were. They could not take away from me what Hanson and I had worked so hard to build up.

'You know,' said Terry and blushed a little, 'I came to tell you what I decided to do after Kenwood.'

'Do tell me,' I urged him eagerly.

'I am going to go to Oxford to study medicine and then I will come here to train as a doctor, if the two of you will have me.'

'That is wonderful news, Terry,' I was excited just to think of having Terry work here. 'Of course, you can come here. I am sure Hanson will be happy to train you. He holds you in great esteem,' indeed he did, but mostly because I always spoke of Terry in positive terms.

'You and Hanson inspired me,' he added timidly and I squeezed his hand.

'I do not want to keep you any further seeing as you are so busy. I shall take my leave but I will visit again soon,' Terry said joyfully.

'Next time I will show you around,' I promised, and was sorry to let him go already.

Abigail, meanwhile, had begun a conversation with her father whom she now urged to leave along with Terry as he would otherwise remain the only man. Rather than being bored by our female chit-chat he might as well go outside, she insisted.

'Surely Mr Hanson and Dr Hanson will be back soon. I wanted to-' Admiral Lowell was not allowed to finish his sentence, as his daughter knew best: 'Papa, I am sure, Mr Hanson will be happy to listen to all of the exciting stories that your retirement holds but do spare us with them and let us have a ladies' conversation. I promise it will be nothing of consequence, as you know, women never have anything important to say, therefore, I assure you, you won't miss anything.'

Flustered but obediently the Admiral did as his impressive daughter commanded and I discovered that I could come to respect and admire Abigail, after all.

As soon as the door shut behind the two men, Abigail turned to Elizabeth.

'Mrs Lowell,' she said, 'how happy I am to finally make your acquaintance properly. The wedding offered little opportunity to talk and I am most eager to learn all I can about my mama-in-law. I gather Miss Ryde is your sister?'

'Yes, she is,' stuttered Elizabeth hoarsely, and looked to me for help. I offered none because I wanted to both avoid becoming Abigail's next victim and learn what it was she wanted to find out. I, myself, knew nothing about Elizabeth's new life and seemed to have no right to ask about it, therefore all I could do was rely on Abigail.

'And Miss Ryde was Mr Ryde until only recently,' smiled Abigail, 'might this insignificant change be the reason why your wedding happened in such a hurry?'

Elizabeth said nothing but looked guiltily at her hands.

'So I am correct in the assumption that a pretty lady such as yourself would only marry a man like my father to escape the fate of impoverishment and ridicule? Pray, did he even know of your connection to Miss Ryde?'

'No, he did not – not until we were married,' Elizabeth's voice hardly rose above a whisper, and she dared not look at either of us. Her weakness had turned her back into the sister I knew and loved.

'Miss Johnson,' I interposed. When it came to my family, I could face all the Abigails of this world fearlessly. 'Though I cannot truly blame you for thinking the worst of my sister, I know her well enough to contradict your assumptions. It is true that our situation was not a favourable one but my sister would never go so far as to marry a man she feels no affection for. Furthermore, Elizabeth might be guilty for withholding information but in such a bond she is not the only one. I highly doubt Admiral Lowell has told her all there is to know about his past,' I gave Abigail a meaningful look which she could not misunderstand, and for a short moment there was a vulnerability in her eyes which made my heart cringe for I still was infinitely sorry for her loss.

'Thank you, Jo,' said Elizabeth in a sad voice, 'but, as always, you think far too highly of me. I did not like the Admiral when he first proposed to me – I was disgusted in fact, that a man who was older than my father had been, could think that I would have him. But I was worried about Jo and Eleanor – Jo most of all. I could scarcely breath when I thought of my little sister all alone among men, with no one there to help or guide her. What was to become of her if she were to be discovered? What was to become of us all? The more I thought of it, the less of a choice I saw. Of course, I could not have told the Admiral about Jo or Jo about him. My little, headstrong sister would have come to my rescue and scared the Admiral away. For once, I wanted to be the hero for my sisters. I had no idea you would do so well, Jo,' she smiled at me with tearful eyes, that she wiped with a silk handkerchief. 'But Admiral Lowell is much kinder than the first impression leads on to believe, and I can see myself liking him more every day.'

We sat quietly for a moment, all of us thinking about Elizabeth's confession. It made me happy.

'In that case,' said Abigail, 'I have no objections, particularly as it is much too late to object in any case. There is however one more thing I would like to say to you, Miss Ryde-'

The opening of the door did not allow Abigail to finish. The Hansons came back inside. Charles looked livelier than when he had left which meant the talk with his father had not been all bad. Mr Hanson was unchanged.

'My business here is done,' announced Mr Hanson cheerlessly, 'I bid you all farewell. Mrs Johnson,' he singled out Abigail by bowing his head to her and merely nodding towards my sister and me.

'I must be going, too,' said Elizabeth. 'My husband is waiting.'

It seemed as though her facade had crumbled and she was back to being herself, again. It was Abigail whom I had to thank for it.

'In that case, I shall not detain you any further, either,' Abigail prepared to take her leave. 'Miss Ryde, I only wanted to say that you are most welcome to visit me any time you choose. I am rich and bored, and you are quite the diversion. Mama-in-law, you too.'

Two large skirts ruffled through the room, the door, and down the stairs in pursuit of Mr Hanson. When Charles and I closed the door on them, we both took a deep breath simultaneously.

'Poor Molly,' I laughed.

'She was wonderful,' agreed Hanson.

'Much better at dealing with them all than the two of us.'

'Indeed,' Hanson paused, 'you will never guess the reason for my father's visit.'

'Nothing too bad I hope?'

'I have not yet decided what to make of it, why don't you try?' he suggested.

'I am all ears.'

'My father came here to ask whether I would mind if he paid his addresses to Abigail,' he looked at me expectantly.

'He did?' I called out in disbelief, and after a moment: 'Do you?'

'Dear me, Jo, none whatsoever,' he exclaimed laughingly, 'why would you think that I did?'

'You were engaged to her, and once you get to know her she is not quite so awful – I rather like her,' I was forced to admit after today's events.

'The engagement was a farce, as you well know – it gave her something to talk about to her dull friends and provided us with funds for the hospital, and as for her character, I never thought she was awful, but it is not easy to stay in the same room with her for more than half an hour.'

'It just occurred to me,' I held my hand over my mouth in shock, 'if your father marries Abigail, then not only will she be your mother-in-law, but my sister will be your grand-mother-in-law which will make me your great-aunt-in-law.'

'Theoretically, yes, but it does not really mean anything,' Hanson concluded warily.

'Don't worry, I will be the best great-aunt-in-law you can possibly imagine. I will bake you cookies, and read bedtime stories to you, and I will make sure there are no monsters under your bed,' I vowed.

'The cookies I shall accept, but you can save the rest.'

'Who's a big, brave boy,' I stood on tip-toes to pat his head.

'Goodness.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 33

 

FAMILY AND FRIENDSHIP

 

Molly and I were on the night shift that day, and since it was very quiet, I had a lot of time to think. Most of my thoughts revolved around everyone getting married – everyone but me. I had no explanation as to why Hanson had not asked me yet. Not even if he could pay his addresses or if we felt the same way about each other. The fact that I loved him madly could not have escaped him and I was beginning to believe that he might like me too. But we never talked about it, and no one could blame me for being impatient as I had already waited for seven months for him to return to that wretched kiss. Would it be highly unseemly for me to address it? 'Oy, Hanson give me that bloody kiss already!'

Molly began to giggle as I accidentally said it out loud.

'Oh Molly, is it really so much to ask?'

'No Ma'am,' she said shyly, 'everyone is wondering about it.'

'Who is everyone?' I asked shocked to find that my dilemma had become local gossip.

'The girls,' returned Molly reluctant to give up the names, but I urged her to it, 'Rose, Amy, Lucy and Daisy – all of the nurses, and...' she paused afraid to give offense but unable to lie, 'some of the patients too. They are betting on how much longer it will take the two of you.'

At least it proved that I was not entirely wrong in my assumptions.

'Do you have any idea what he is waiting for, Molly?' I said desperate for a second opinion even if it was that of a nine-year-old.

'He might be intimidated because you own the hospital, Ma'am, he might think that he won't be able to offer you anything in return, or that if anything goes wrong you will have to face the consequences along with him, while as long as you are not married you are a wealthy woman with whatever future you choose for yourself ahead of you,' all that came from the lips of a little girl.

'Molly,' suspicions arose in me, 'is it possible that Dr Charles Hanson has consulted you in this matter rather than me?'

My youngest nurse turned pale in the candle light and bit her lower lip. I rose, tugged my jacket in order and made for the stairs.

'But Ma'am,' she called after me, 'it is two a.m.'

'All the better,' I yelled as my feet ran up the stairs and I tore open the door and assaulted a peacefully sleeping man with the words: 'Wake up instantly!'

He did, and with a start. Grabbing for his night robe, he built himself up in front of me, wobbling on his sleepy feet: 'What is the emergency? Is it Mr Kyle? Has his condition become worse?'

'No, it is none of the patients,' I said furiously, 'I came to warn you about a murder in progress! Here,' I took the heaviest of the books on the night stand, 'this is the murder weapon.'

I began beating him with it until he grabbed my hands and pushed me against the wall. He was so flustered that he could not think of anything to say. Because I could no longer punch him, and he was too far away to bite, I stomped with my foot onto his.

'Ouch! Jo, what have I done?'

In my unstable state this was enough to make me cry. Here was a man who was kind enough to wonder what he had done when I behaved like a crazy lunatic rather than to ask what had gotten into me.

'Why don't you want me?' I howled, although the answer to that question was not too difficult to guess when one took into account the most recent assault.

'What makes you think I don't want you?' he said softly, and cupped my face in his hands, and wiped away my tears with his thumb. 'I want you more than anything, silly girl. You cannot have any doubt about that, can you?'

'Then why don't you ask me?'

'Is it really what you want? Have you considered it thoroughly?'

'Yes,' I punched him once more on the shoulder. He smiled and put his arms slowly around my waist.

'Jo, will you marry me?'

'No, don't ask me now, when I am like this, ask me tomorrow. I want to look pretty for the occasion!'

He laughed: 'Alright, shall we say eleven am tomorrow?'