“Well, they are both in the same class. Henrietta, I want to find that man. I want to come face to face with him. I want to work in secret and expose him. I want to catch him … red handed at his evil work.”
She looked at me in astonishment.
“That doesn’t sound like you,” she said.
“You’re usually so calm … so reasonable.”
“And you don’t think I’m being calm and reasonable now?”
“No. You’re vehement. You hate this man whom you’ve never seen.”
“I have seen him once … in Venice. He brought Aubrey back to the palazzo … drugged.”
“Do you think he was responsible?”
“I am sure of it.”
“How exciting! How do you propose to find this man?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s where it becomes so wild.”
“Plans come into my mind and they seem so impossible that I reject them. But my determination continues. I can never be at peace with myself until I find this man. There are questions I want to ask him.
Only by knowing him can I discover his methods. “
“I thought you knew his methods.”
“I know in my heart that he is evil. He is doing a great deal of harm and I am going to find him, Henrietta.”
“All right, then. But how?”
“It’s like fate in a way. He is a doctor.” I looked down at my hands.
“I have this desire to nurse the sick, to do something about those appalling hospitals. It seems as if it is ordained. As a nurse, I should have a chance of finding him. It is something I have a feeling for. I know I should be a good one. My first step will be to become a nurse.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You couldn’t go into one of those hospitals. They wouldn’t have you.
You wouldn’t fit in among those sordid people. “
“I have heard certain things about Miss Nightingale. She is trying to change the way in which we care about our sick. I am sure she would want people like me to study nursing … people who are dedicated to helping the sick. Those so-called nurses in the hospital did not care in the least about the old, the sick and the poor. That must change.
They are themselves derelicts of society. Miss Nightingale is going to change all that, and when she does she will want her dedicated nurses beside her. Henrietta, I want to find out how to train to be a nurse!”
She nodded.
“I think I should rather like that, too.”
“You?”
“Why not? I like to be doing something. I don’t want to spend my life idling away. I have decided. I’m going to train to be a nurse with you.”
“Do you remember that dinner-party at the Carberrys’?”
“As if I would forget! It was when I knew you’d help me.”
“There was talk of Miss Nightingale’s going to some place in Germany. Kaiserswerth, I think. “
“I remember.”
“I want to find out about it. You knew the family, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you do see some of your old friends occasionally?”
She nodded again.
“Perhaps you could make a few enquiries.”
“About Kaiserswerth and whether it is possible for two aspiring nurses to go there?”
“Exactly.”
Henrietta’s eyes sparkled. She looked intrigued; and I wondered whether it was the idea of tracking down the Devil Doctor which appealed to her, rather than entering into the profession of nursing.
The enthusiasms had taken root. The excitement of Lily’s engagement had died down. She was now a sober young woman collecting for her bottom drawer. That was very pleasant, but Henrietta liked excitement.
The great project, as she called it, was now her main concern. She set about her mission with a skill worthy of a secret agent.
A few days later I was startled to receive a letter from Minster St. Clare. My fingers trembled as I opened it. It was from Amelia. She wrote:
My dear Anna, You will be surprised to see me writing from the above address. As a matter of fact. Jack and I are here. We were advised to come. Aubrey is very ill indeed. It was inevitable. His condition deteriorated considerably after you left apparently, and we are informed that in such cases decline is rapid.
The doctor believes that he cannot long survive. He is allowed regular doses of laudanam which of course contains opium and it is his addiction to that drug which has brought him to this state. He cannot be deprived of it absolutely, say the doctors, for if he were he would probably become violent.
It gives me great pain to write to you in this way, for in spite of all that happened I know you feel something for him. He is lucid for periods and he talks continually of you. If you could come and be with him for a little while, the doctors think it would soothe him.
My dear Anna, this is a very sad letter for me to write, and if you say you cannot come, I will understand. I am writing this because the doctor suggests I should. I believe Aubrey has not long to live.
Perhaps you could reassure him in some way. I think he has a deep sense of guilt and would like to make his peace with you.
My love as always, and I hope that I shall see you. Amelia.
I was stunned. I had not thought to see Aubrey and the Minster again.
My first thoughts were: No, no, I cannot go. I cannot revive old memories. It is asking far too much.
For a whole day I did not reply to the letter.
When Henrietta noticed my preoccupation she wanted to know what was wrong. I showed her the letter.
“I can’t go,” I said vehemently.
“It will revive all that I am trying to put behind me. There will be memories of my little boy everywhere.
With everything that has been happening, I have managed to forget a little. It would open it all up again. “
“Anna Pleydell,” said Henrietta solemnly, ‘if you don’t go, you will have it on your conscience all your life. I know you well, and that is how it will be. Your husband failed you. You needed to get away. You wanted freedom. I know what that meant to you. Yes, old wounds will be opened. You will suffer, but you will suffer more in all the years to come if you don’t go. “
I pondered what she had said. For all her outward frivolity she was capable of flashes of wisdom; and after more consideration, I decided to go.
I was met at the station by Jack St. Clare.
As we were driving to the Minster he said: “You will see a great change in Aubrey.”
“I expected to. But it is rather sudden, isn’t it?”
“It would be about a year since you last saw him, I think.”
“Yes,” I answered.
“The doctor said that when the final stages set in they would advance rapidly.”
“He is dying, isn’t he?”
“I don’t think he can live very long in the state in which he is. He is becoming very thin. He is nervous, irritable and scarcely eats anything. I think he suffers pain when he attempts to. The doctor says that to deprive him of the drug entirely now can produce disturbances and collapse.”
“Do you mean he could become violent?”
“If deprived altogether he would do anything to get the drug.”
“Should he be kept at home?”
“There is nowhere he could go. He has a small dose of laudanum every day. He craves for it. Really it is pitiful to see him and think what he was, and what he might still be. The doctor thought you should know of his state, and although he believes that nothing will bring about an improvement, he does think that your presence might soothe him.”
I was silent, dreading what lay before me.
Amelia greeted me very warmly.
“Somehow I knew you would come,” she said.
They took me to Aubrey’s room. He was sleeping. I hardly recognized him. He looked years older than when I had last seen him. He lay on his back breathing heavily.