“Yes. He died. As you knew the family, you probably knew too that Aubrey was addicted to drugs. He took it too far. Very sad. He had an unfortunate marriage.”
“Oh?”
“Yes … a nighty sort of girl who was no good to him. He met her in India, I think.”
“Did you … know her?”
“No. I heard the story, though. Poor fellow. He was weak. He got caught up in the wrong set. A good steady wife might have changed him.”
“Oh?” I was beginning to feel indignant, but I must keep a close guard on my feelings. I had been mistaken about his indifference. There was little he missed.
“You would have thought that a wife married to a man like that would have done all she could to help him. Instead, she left him … went off. He went down and down after that, and you can’t go on indulging in that sort of thing. It caught up with him in time. There was a child, too, who died.”
I gripped the table. I must keep calm. My impulse was to shout at him:
Listen to my side of the story.
“As a matter of fact,” he went on, “I happened to be there at the time. There was an inadequate nurse. The wife had left them to go to London.
The child was neglected. That ginsodden nurse ought not to have been left in charge of the child. A doctor should have been called in. “
“But you were called in …”
“Too late. The child was already dead when I saw him.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“Why are you so interested?” he asked.
“So he died,” I said.
“And the child died, too. What happened to the wife?”
“She left… lived in London, I believe. No doubt she liked the social life.”
I wanted to strike him. I wanted to hit the table in my grief and anger. It was devastating to have it all brought back so vividly, to hear myself blamed. But most of all to discover that my darling Julian was already dead when the demonic doctor arrived, if he was telling the truth.
He had represented me as a frivolous uncaring woman who had left her child for the sake of a trip to London and had failed to give her husband the support which might have saved him. How many believed that? How could I talk to him of those terrible orgies in the cave, the hideous rites, the shock of discovering the kind of man I had married and the reason I had gone to London and how everything had worked against me?
How dared he interpret the case so casually, so cruelly?
“Is anything wrong. Miss Pleydell?”
“No … no, of course not.”
“These heart-shaped ones are rather delicious. Do have one.”
“No, thank you.”
“Ah, here is the coffee.”
It was served on a brass tray in gold-coloured cups. I tried to steady myself as it was poured out. My emotions were in a turmoil. To be with him, talking in this intimate way, was most disturbing; and when he had discussed his version of what had happened at the Minster, he had completely unnerved me.
He was watching me steadily.
“Tell me,” he said.
“Why did you have an ambition to become a nurse?”
“I felt it was something I had to do.” I wanted to shout at him: What do you know about what happened at the Minster? How could I have stayed? It would not have been possible to save Aubrey. He was too far gone. I could not have helped him by staying. I had to get away. I could not bear the grief of losing my child. How dare you speak of me as though I were light, uncaring! I forced myself to go on: “I felt I had something within me. I suppose you would call it absurd. But when I touched people there was some response. I seemed to have some healing quality.”
He stretched his hand across the table and took mine.
“These hands,” he said.
“They are beautifully shaped hands. Pale hands … yet capable … magic hands.”
“You are laughing at me.”
He continued to hold my hand and looked into my eyes. I was afraid of those eyes. Those deep, dark eyes. I had seen their power. I had a moment of panic when I thought he was going to draw my secret from me.
“Oh no, I am not,” he said.
“I have told you that I have seen the mysticism of the East. I believe certain people are blessed with strange powers. I have seen you in the hospital. Yes, you have the healing touch. Was it that which made you want to become a nurse?”
“I think it must have been. I wanted to do something with my life.”
“Because of what happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“The secret, little Nightingale.”
I tried to laugh.
“You are building up something which is not there.”
“That is not true. It is there. Tell me. Perhaps I could be of use.”
“There is nothing I wish to tell.”
“There might be something which it would be helpful to tell.”
“Helpful to whom?”
“To you? To me?”
I shook my head and withdrew my hand which he was still holding.
“You are very aloof,” he said.
“In what way?”
“I believe you are suspicious of me.”
I laughed and shrugged my shoulders.
“You don’t want me to know what you are trying to hide from me.”
“From you? Why should I hide anything from you?”
“That is what I want you to tell me. Dear Nightingale, we are not in the wards now. We are free … for one night, here we are.”
“What does that mean?”
“That there are no duties calling us from this most enjoyable encounter. I am glad we missed the others. Are you?”
“ ... er . “
“Oh come, tell the truth.”
“It has been very interesting. I dare say it would have been pleasant with the others.”
“Two is so much more comfortable than four. Two can talk so much more intimately. With four there are often two conversations going on at the same time. No, I prefer this, and I am glad it happened the way it did. I believe in time I could persuade you to unfreeze.”
“I am not frozen.”
“Yes, you are. You are frozen in that secret from the past. You are letting it rule your life. You are trying to sublimate your natural impulses by becoming a nurse. What shall you do when you go back? Will you join Miss Florence Nightingale? I hear she is doing great things in London. Or will you marry Charles Fenwick? That is what you plan to do, perhaps.”
“How do you know so much about my affairs?”
“I told you I keep my eyes open, and as Charles was a doctor in the hospital, naturally I know a little about him. Are you going to marry him?”
“I don’t know. I am not sure. Here everything is so different from at home. I think I should wait before making a decision … until I am back home among the familiar things, the familiar way of life. I will always want to use my gift for nursing in some way.”
“What a cautious lady you are! Do you never act on impulse?”
“I think I do frequently.”
His eyes held mine.
“I am glad of that.”
“Why?”
“Because it is often very stimulating. So you will marry Dr. Fenwick.
He will have a nice little practice in the country . not too big to take him away from his wife and family. The life of a doctor in the country in England can be very pleasant. “
“How could you know?”
“From observation. I don’t think you would become addicted to the cosy life somehow. There is that in you which reaches out for something more … new experiences, adventure … Of course, you might settle down in your pleasant country house in your pleasant country town with your pleasant family and never know anything of other things. There is a saying that what you never have you never miss. But you. Miss Pleydell… Oh, I wonder. You see, there was that something in the past which has made you not quite the conventional young lady you are striving to be.”