Love for the Matron (25 page)

There was another knock on her door. Edith Selby came in, and she was carrying a letter in her hand. For one awful moment Elizabeth wondered if there had been a whole series of notes signed Emily Evans delivered around the hospital
...
by hand
...
urgent
But Edith Selby
’
s face reassured her slightly. It was worried but not condemnatory.

“Good morning, Matron. I
’
ve just had a letter from Miriam Brown ..
.
” she stopped as if puzzled how t
o
go on.

“How is Miss Brown? I hope she has managed to miss the floods where she is,” Elizabeth, said politely.

“It isn
’
t about the floods. It
’
s about some letter from Sister Allison.” Edith Selby came to a halt once more.

“Sit down, Miss Selby. Am I to assume that Sister Allison
’
s letter wasn
’
t altogether friendly?”

Edith Selby nodded unhappily. “Something like that,” she admitted.

Elizabeth dug deep into her reserves of strength. “Sister Allison has been here a good many years, and if the photographs in her room are a pointer St. Genevieve
’
s is her life, and anything or anyone that threatens that life is automatically an enemy. It might have been interesting to see what would have happened if Miss Brown had been well enough to stay on to see the changes through that she herself initiated,” Elizabeth added almost as if thinking aloud. Then: “What do you want
me
to do about it, Miss Selby
?
Or should I say, what does Miriam Brown want us to do?”

Edith Selby hesitated. “It
’
s not quite as simple as that, Matron. It depends in part on whether you
’
re planning to stay on after you and Doctor Gregory are married.”

Elizabeth
’
s eyes flashed. “How on earth can I say when I don
’
t even know when or if we
’
re going to be married!”

“But I thought
...
you were engaged
...”
Edith Selby
’
s voice faltered
.

Elizabeth
’
s hand went instinctively to her little watch pocket where William
’
s ring was pinned for safety
.
“Engagements don
’
t always end in marriage,” she said bitterly, and then as she saw Edith Selby
’
s stricken face she opened the desk drawer, took out the note from the folder and handed it to her Deputy Matron without another word.

The older woman turned the envelope over. “Do you want me to read this, Matron
?
she asked finally.

“Yes, please, if you don
’
t mind.” Elizabeth
’
s voice was empty of all feeling, but she was human enough to watch Edith Selby
’
s face.

There was first disbelief and surprise and finally it was anger and possibly exasperation that rested there. Edith Selby tapped the letter with one finger irritably. “That woman! Even when Mary Gregory was still alive she was always interfering, and neither of them realized they were entertaining the serpent in their Garden of Eden. I suppose they were both too busy. What if Robin and Susan are upset? They
’
ll get over it
...
lead their own lives even more than they do now. Dear Emily may have thought she knew every little idea that went through their heads, but it was as much of a delusion as any possessed by those poor creatures
in
the mental hospitals. I
’
d burn that letter and forget it, Miss Graham, if you
’
ll allow an older woman to advise you.”

“
Thank
you, Miss Selby,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“
Now back to Miriam Brown
’
s letter You were saying
...
?”

Selby looked a trifle surprised. “Only
that if you were planning to stay on after your marriage Miss Brown thinks it would be an idea—only
a
n idea, she says, and not a suggestion—if you included the Sisters in your plans, asked them to your engagement party or something like that, so they wouldn
’
t feel left out. She thinks the older ones like Sister Allison
...”
she looked rather sheepish for a moment, “and me
...
may be
feeling
apprehensive in case the changes would sweep not only the old order away but themselves as well.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Thank you, Miss Selby. I
’
m most grateful, and I
’
ll think about it when I have time ... if we
’
re ever straight!”

Edith Selby glanced with compassion at her matron
’
s weary face. “We
’
ll be straight sooner than you think, she said cheerfully. “I think
most of our
dailies have brought their friends with them this morning to help put things to rights ... at least so I
’
m told.
”
With that hopeful words she departed.

Elizabeth did her letters, and answered the telephone innumerable times, and then went to do a ward round that was even more conscientiously detailed than usual. She stopped to chat with many of the patients and listened without impatience to their tales of flood whether they were first-hand or second-hand via their visitors.

One old man shook his head mournfully “I
’
ve seen these floods come and go, but this be the one to beat all. And, mark you, every time the government men do say they
’
ll do something about it and little happens, but I reckon this
time they’ll
have
to. It
’
s damage past the ordinary folks
’
paying.”

“Go on with you, John Jackson! It
’
s the ordinary folks that gives the money to the government in the first place, and don
’
t you forget it!”

Elizabeth left the old men to continue their discussion and went on her way. She found. Sister Moffatt with her sleeves rolled up cheerfully scrubbing out lockers.

“Excuse my appearance. Matron, but with the children coming back this afternoon I
’
ll have to hurry if I
’
m to be ready for them,” she explained.

Elizabeth laughed and did a round on her own of the few children who had been too ill to be moved to the Guild Hall, and even they had their stories to tell.

It was nearly half past eleven when she got back to her office and Margaret Smith brought in the coffee.

“Mr. Hingston would like a word with you, Matron, but says he
’
ll not be stopping for coffee, thank you.”

Elizabeth glanced at the clock. “Show him in, Miss Smith,” she said quietly.

William would be here at twelve and there was a letter she had to write first ... a letter to William; one that she would not deliver by hand.

Anthony Hingston came in briskly. “Good morning, Matron. I
’
ll not keep you. I only wanted to remind you about my Easter holiday
.”

She looked enviously at his happy face. If only she could have solved her own problems as simply as she had helped him with his
.

“I hope you have a very pleasant one
...
you and your wife,” she said softly.

He glanced at her. “I suppose you and William are waiting to make your wedding a fashionable June one, Miss Graham.”

Elizabeth added sugar to a cup of coffee alread
y
sweetened. “Something like that,” she admitted, but kept her eyes down.

He laughed. “Well, if you
’
re needing someone to give away the bride or support the groom, I
’
ll be back in time to make good my offer. Now, I won
’
t keep you. I know I
’
m busy and you must be busier.”

The door had closed by the time she lifted her eyes and the clock hand was moving relentlessly forward. She pushed aside her cup and took out a piece of notepaper. Her hand was trembling a little as she picked up her pen to write: Dear William, but before she could form the first letter there was the sound of hurrying footsteps, a voice speaking quickly and urgently to Margaret Smith, and then the door was flung open hastily and William stood there staring down at her.

“Can you come at once, Elizabeth
?
” But neither his face nor his voice were those of a joyous lover come to call for the woman he loved. “It
’
s Susan
...
she
’
s missing,” and she knew it was as a stricken father that he spoke.

She got to her feet and her hand reached up for her heavy cloak. “Wha
t’
s happened
?
” she demanded.

He stood aside to let her go through the door. “I don
’
t know exactly. I
’
ve just come from Castleford, and I couldn
’
t get much sense out of Dear Emily except that she and Susan had had words
...
I don
’
t know why, but I hoped I
’
d find Susan here with you
...”

The corridor seemed endless, and when they finally reached the front door they had the tiresome job of picking their way along the temporary ramp that led up to the castle wall They walked more swiftly along the ramparts and the Matron
’
s house, still with its moat of flood waters lapping at its doorstep, was below them and then behind them. Castleford had never looked more of a castle as they clambered down the slippery steps, William grasping Elizabeth
’
s arm tightly, and across the rough planks bridge that linked them with the side door. William went
in first with a
murmured apology, and the house had an odd empty feel in spite of the distant sounds of someone bustling about the kitchen and the crackling of the fire in the library.

“Where
’
s everyone got to?” William demanded, but he wasn
’
t really asking Elizabeth. His hand went to ring the bell, but Agnes came through the far door before his f
in
ger touched it.

“If you
’
re looking for Dear Emily, she
’
s gone, and if you ask me, she
’
ll not be back this time,
”
she
said tautly.

William
stared at her. “What do you mean,
Agnes?”

The woman twisted her hands in her apron.
“
I know it
’
s not for me to say, sir, but there
’
s something funny going on. She says she has to go to her widowed sister right this minute
...
first time I ever knew she had one, and she
’
s not the person to keep things to herself
...
and no telegram came and there was no phone call neither, and
...”

William cut in swiftly. “Any word of Susan?
”

She shook her head slowly. “Nary a one, sir,
and the other gentleman
...
”

For the first time Elizabeth realized that Stuart wasn
’
t in his customary chair in front of the fire. “Is Mr. Nichols in his room, then? William
demanded.

“No, sir. He
’
s gone out to look for Susan
.”

“Good lord, and he
’
s not
fit ... All
right, thank you, Agnes. We
’
re going to the Guild Hall. Don
’
t forget to listen to the phone.”

“Very good, sir, and I hopes you find her soon. Like a ray of sunshine Susan was
...
I mean is
...
”

Elizabeth found herself snatched by the arm. “Let
’
s get
out
of
here, Elizabeth,
”
William growled with a fierceness that could mean he was fighting back either an urge to slaughter someone ... or tears
...

They found themselves on top of the castle wall once more and made their way swiftly along the stones worn smooth by generations of townsmen. They had almost reached the sloping ramp that led down to the High Street and the Guild Hall beyond when they heard the sound of tramping feet moving with almost military precision. Even as they stopped to look they could see a party of men marching towards them
...
men carrying stretchers, two stretchers
...

Elizabeth clutched at William
’
s hand and his fingers closed around hers like a child
’
s seeking for reassurance. The men had seen them now and were slowing down. One of those in the lead detached himself and hurried forward.

“We
’
ve got them both, sir. Miss Susan and your friend.”

William
’
s lips moved and it seemed seconds before he got the words out. “Are they ... is she all right
?
”

“Miss Susan
’
s not much the worse for her wetting, Doctor, but the gentleman seems right poorly
...
sort of a poor color and all shivery
...
but he
’
s gone very quiet now
...
”

William
’
s shoulders stiffened into authority. “Right. Let
’
s get them to Castleford as quickly as possible. No use wasting time examining either of them here.” His insti
n
ctive move towards the stretchers was controlled before it began.

His hand came down on Elizabeth
’
s arm. “Could you get Agnes to see to hot water bottles?” he asked her.

“Of course.” In an instant she was retracing her steps along the rampart, and no matter how she hurried there was always the inexorable tramp of the marching feet behind her ... like the dirge of a funeral march.

It couldn
’
t have been many minutes before she found herself upstairs with Susan, gently slipping off the soaking wet clothes and with Agnes
’
s help lifting the girl into bed and tucking the warmed blankets around her. Susan
’
s eyes were closed, but presently she sighed and opened them and stared fixedly at Elizabeth, and then the suspicion of a smile touched the still childish mouth.

“Bless you, Elizabeth ... I was ... so
...
cold, and
now ...
you
’
ve made me lovely and warm
...
” Then her eyes closed and she seemed to sleep.

“She
’
ll do nicely now, Miss Graham. Should I be heating her some soup, do you think?” Agnes asked matter-of-factly.

“Not just yet, Agnes. Could you stay with her for a moment while I see if Doctor wants any help?”

“Yes, of course, Miss Graham. I keep forgetting you
’
re a nurse as well.” Agnes pulled a chair up close to the bed and sat down on the edge of it very primly.

Elizabeth nodded approval and left them. She could hear the stretcher bearers down in the hall, but they must have brought Stuart up to William
’
s room. The door was shut, but she knocked and went in. She stopped on the threshold and stared at the little scene in front of her.
The bed, turned back and ready with its hot water bottles, was empty and the stretcher was still on the floor. William was getting to his feet, but his hand had gently replaced the blanket covering Stuart.

He turned and saw Elizabeth and his hand went out to comfort her. “His heart must have been worse that we thought
...
or else it was the shock on top of the
‘
flu. Whatever his faults we will always owe him Susan.”

Robin came bursting in and stopped short even as Elizabeth had. “Dad, it was the bravest thing you ever saw! Susan
’
s boat was caught, by the current and toppled over, and Stuart never hesitated. I didn
’
t know he was such a good swimmer
...
remember he never would join in any of our races ... and he got up to her just in time and a man who had jumped into one of the other boats managed to reach them. Is he
...
dead, then?”

William nodded. “Yes. There
’
s nothing more we can do for him now,” and his other hand went out to comfort his son.

The three of them left the room and went slowly down the stairs, William stopping only long enough to glance towards Susan
’
s room.

“Is she all right
?
” he asked.

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, and she
’
s gone off to sleep. Agnes is with her.”

Her heart was so full now. She had won so much, at last. Stuart, who had had so little had given the most in the end ... his life
...
and yet she couldn
’
t really grieve for him, because she knew how bitterly he would have hated
...
sorrow
...
when he had always tried to surround himself with gaiety and light.

It was a June sun which beat down with all its warmth on the grey walls of Castleford and it was June roses that shed their petals for Elizabeth as she walked into the house on her wedding morning. Her lips softened into a smile as she thought of the people who might say it was wrong for the bride to be married from the house where she was to live after the wedding
...
but since
her
family lived there it seemed to be the only right thing to do. She had dressed in her bridal costume of pale blue at the Matron
’
s house and she had donned the little tight-fitting cap of silken rose petals and adjusted the saucy veil that was supposed to add a touch of demureness so befitting to a bride whether twenty or twice twenty.

As she came into the hall, now
ba
n
ked with flowers, she could hear Susan chattering with excitement to the school friend who was supporting her as bridesmaid, and then there was Robin
’
s voice talking to his father at the top of the stairs. Elizabeth hesitated in momentary last-minute shyness and then Anthony Hingston came through from the library.

His face lighted up with pleasure. “What a lovely bride I
’
m to have the honor of giving away! If I weren
’
t so happily married myself I might envy William.”

As if upon cue William Gregory came slowly down the stairs and the look in his eyes held Elizabeth transfixed. Dear God
...
was she really responsible for putting so much happiness there?

William came straight to her and took both her hands in his. “Elizabeth darling, you spare a moment? I would like words with thee.”

He completely ignored Anthony Hingston
’
s joking, “I say William, I
’
m sure this isn
’
t in the book
...
not before the wedding!”

William led Elizabeth into the library and shut the door firmly. He turned and once again took both her hands in his and looked at her until the color swept up into her face
and she was truly a blushing bride.