Sitting on the edge of her chair, Ruby answered all the questions that Miss Luckes fired at her with the intensity of a woodpecker drilling a hole in a tree trunk. Sitting for a while in silence, steepling her fingers, Matron stared thoughtfully at Ruby. Seconds felt like hours as the wall clock ticked on inexorably towards Ruby’s fate. She sat with her hands knotted together, barely daring to breathe; her whole future depended on Matron’s answer.
‘Well, Miss Capretti, I can see that you are sincere in your desire to become a probationer nurse and that you are an intelligent young woman, but I’m afraid I am going to have to disappoint you.’
Ruby stared at her blankly for a moment, barely able to assimilate the bad news. ‘But why? I’d work ever so hard and study in every spare minute I got.’
A glimmer of sympathy lit Matron’s eyes but she dropped her gaze, staring down at the sheaf of papers on her desk. Her square-tipped fingers toyed with a pen, tapping it rhythmically up and down on the tooled-leather desk top. ‘I’m sure you would, but you must understand that we have to uphold standards. All our probationer nurses come from similar backgrounds to Miss Chadwick and, to be blunt, you would not fit in.’
Ruby shook her head, unable to speak.
‘We have public wards, Ruby,’ Matron said, gentling her tone. ‘But we also have private wards and wealthy patrons who, quite frankly, wouldn’t care to be treated by a young person who could not enunciate their own language.’
‘You mean I don’t speak proper.’
‘That’s exactly what I mean.’
‘What if I learned to speak proper?’
‘I know it sounds harsh, unkind even, but you would have to learn quite a lot more.’ Placing the pen in its holder, Matron shuffled the papers with an air of finality. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. I would be quite prepared to take you on trial as a ward maid, if you so wished.’
Ruby stood up, holding her head high and struggling to find a little dignity in this utter
humiliation. ‘Thank you, ma’am, but I mean to be a proper nurse, not a skivvy what cleans up slops and sluices. I won’t take up no more of your valuable time.’
Hurrying from Matron’s office with her head down, biting back tears of disappointment and frustration, Ruby almost cannoned into Pamela.
‘Ruby? What happened?’
‘It’s no go,’ Ruby said, swallowing a sob and sniffing. ‘But I ain’t giving up. I can learn to speak proper. I’m as good as the next person.’
Hooking her arm around Ruby’s shoulders, Pamela pulled a hanky out of her pocket and gave it to her. ‘Of course you are, dear. You’re worth two of most people I know.’
Ruby blew her nose. ‘Well, she don’t think so.’
‘Oh dear, Adam will be so cross,’ Pamela said, sighing. ‘He was so certain that you would be accepted.’
‘Was he?’ A spark of hope flared in Ruby’s breast. ‘Was he really?’
‘Of course. Adam thinks a lot of you, Ruby, and so do I. You mustn’t give up, you simply mustn’t. And if there’s anything I can do to help then I promise you I will.’
‘Ta, but I ain’t one to give up easily.’ Wiping her eyes, Ruby managed a watery smile. ‘Don’t worry about me, Pamela. And thank Adam for me, will you?’ She turned to go but Pamela caught her by the sleeve.
‘Why not tell him yourself? He usually manages to drop in and have a cup of tea with me at this time of the day.’
‘No, no, I got to go. Maybe another time.’ Unable to bear the prospect of their combined sympathy, Ruby backed away. She had to get out of the hospital, away from lost hopes, shattered dreams and the painful sight of Adam and Pamela drinking tea together like an old married couple.
She walked back to Raven Street, barely feeling the icy shards of sleet pelting her from a lowering sky. The winter dusk had closed in on the city and the lamplighters were finishing their rounds, creating ragged yellow pools of light that glimmered on the wet pavements. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry, hidden beneath black umbrellas, moving forward like a river of mushrooms. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks but no one gave her a second glance. Arriving wet, tired and dispirited on the steps of Crowe’s establishment, Ruby fumbled in her purse for her key. She couldn’t help glancing up at Aunt Lottie’s house and wondering if Rosetta was at home.
They had not spoken since the day when Rosetta had flown into a jealous rage because Jonas had given her a lift in his motor. Ruby had gone next door several times, but Rosetta was always at the theatre rehearsing or else per
forming, and she had never made a move to heal the rift between them. This saddened Ruby and she longed to sit and talk to Rose, sharing troubles as they had done in the past. Ruby understood only too well that, in her ignorance of the real world, Rosetta was harbouring romantic dreams about Jonas. She saw only the wealth that he had created, without understanding the criminal activities that had brought him his fortune. Rosetta and Joe both lived in a world created by their own imaginations, Ruby thought, turning the key in the lock. Joe always thought that the next bet would win back his fortune and Rosetta, like a spoilt child, was confident that she simply had to demand love and attention and it would automatically be showered upon her. If Ruby admitted the truth, that Jonas had a hold over her because of Joe’s gambling debts, it would be a double blow to Rosetta. Ruby could not face telling her, and even if she did, she doubted whether Rose would listen.
Tucker was in the hallway, nodding off to sleep on his chair by the door. He snorted and jumped as Ruby shut the door.
‘Oh, it’s you, miss.’
‘Is everything all right?’
‘Not a sound. I put me head round her door a few minutes back but she was sleeping like a babe and beautiful as an angel.’
‘Ta,’ Ruby said, managing a smile. ‘You’re a good lad, Tucker.’
Cold, wet and dispirited, Ruby trudged up the stairs, pausing outside the gaming room and listening. It was unusually quiet. Although most punters came late at night, there were plenty of well-healed gents who came to pass an afternoon playing roulette, hazard, faro or chemin-de-fer. She could hear deep male voices and occasional bursts of laughter. Tobacco smoke seeped under the door in frayed skeins, like shredded fog. Perhaps Jonas would not need Lily tonight if things were quiet, or maybe there was something planned to be held later on in the brick confines of the back yard. Ruby had heard the baying and yelping of dogs in the rat catching contests and the roar of the crowd at illegal cockfights. She knew that men paid good money to watch the vicious and bloody bare-knuckle fights. Lily had told her that there were even contests between female wrestlers, who bared themselves to the waist, pulling each other’s hair and rolling about in the mud, and all for the entertainment of the mob. Ruby shuddered; she would never have believed that such things existed before she left her mother’s little oasis of respectability in Tobacco Court.
Opening the door to the sitting room, Ruby was relieved to see that Tucker must have been unusually thoughtful and seen to the fire, which
burnt brightly, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Without stopping to switch on the light or pull the curtains, Ruby opened the door to Lily’s room and went inside. Tucker had been right when he said that Lily was sleeping peacefully. Her long hair spilled over the pillow like molten gold; her face was pale and translucent as candle wax but her breathing was soft and even. Glancing at the bedside table, Ruby saw that the cork had been left out of the medicine bottle. Picking it up, she realised that Lily must have helped herself to a hefty dose of laudanum as it had been half full when she left and was now almost empty. Frowning, Ruby laid her hand gently on Lily’s brow and was relieved to find that the fever had abated. Perhaps sleep was the best medicine of all, even if it was drug induced. She tiptoed from the room, closing the door softly. Lily would almost certainly sleep until morning but that thought did little to cheer Ruby; she would have liked to tell Lily of her humiliating interview with Matron Luckes. Lily would have understood how she felt and been sweetly sympathetic.
Taking off her sodden outer garments, Ruby spread them over the backs of chairs to dry. A feeling of exhaustion swept over her as she pulled the curtains, shutting out the dreary winter night, and she went to sit by the fire. It was comforting and soothing, sitting in the glow
of the firelight and toasting her feet in front of the cheering blaze. She would not think about her disappointment now; tomorrow she would make plans, try other hospitals, approach different matrons, but now all she wanted was to be alone and to rest. Making herself comfortable, Ruby pulled the pins out of her wet hair, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. Her damp skirts sent clouds of steam billowing up the chimney and as the warmth permeated her chilled flesh, making her pleasantly drowsy, she undid the top buttons of her blouse. Closing her eyes Ruby relaxed against the velvet cushions and, clearing her mind of the dismal events at the hospital, allowed herself to drift into that pleasant place between waking and sleeping.
The sound of someone poking the fire followed by lumps of coal being shovelled from the brass coal scuttle made Ruby wake up with a start. The room was in semi-darkness, the fire having died down so low that it had almost gone out.
‘You were asleep on duty.’
Blinking, Ruby realised that the tall shadow bending over the fire was Jonas.
‘Is Lily …?’
‘Lily is sound asleep, full to the back teeth with laudanum, but that’s not such a bad thing in her condition,’ Jonas said, giving the fire a poke and stepping back as the flames licked up the chimney. He laid the poker in the grate, eyeing
Ruby with brows raised. ‘What happened to you?’
Startled and conscious of her dishevelled state and the fact that her blouse was undone, revealing the top of her shift, Ruby sat upright, fumbling with the buttons. ‘I got caught in the rain.’
‘And you went where?’
‘Lily knew where I was going. Do I have to ask you every time I want to leave the house?’
‘You’re not a prisoner, Ruby.’
‘You could have fooled me.’ Rising to her feet, Ruby made a move towards the door but Jonas caught her by the arm, twisting her round to face him in the flickering firelight.
‘You’ve been crying.’
Ruby shook her head. ‘I told you, I got caught in the rain.’
‘Don’t take me for a fool, Ruby. I can tell the difference between rainwater and tears. For one thing, rainwater doesn’t redden your eyes and nose.’ Jonas ran his finger down her cheek. ‘Or leave sooty streaks. You’ve been bawling your eyes out. What happened?’
Ruby met his gaze, ready to deny everything and storm out of the room, but she saw nothing but sympathy and concern in his eyes, and the sudden change in his normally imperious attitude was both disturbing and confusing. ‘Nothing,’ she said, looking away.
‘Is it a man?’ Jonas’s voice was harsh, like steel on steel. ‘Was it that Billy Noakes that you’ve been caring for? Did he do anything to you?’
‘No! It weren’t nothing to do with Billy. If you must know, I went to the hospital to see the matron and she turned me down flat.’ Despite her struggle to appear unconcerned, Ruby heard her voice crack. Biting her lips to stop them from wobbling, she stared down at her feet.
‘Turned you down! For God’s sake, why?’
Tears flowed from Ruby’s eyes, fast and unstoppable as a breached dam. ‘She said I didn’t speak proper and I weren’t a lady.’
‘The stuck-up bitch!’ Guiding her gently to the sofa, Jonas sat down beside Ruby, holding her hand. ‘You don’t take that sort of crap from a dried-up old spinster. I’ll go and see the old cow myself.’
‘No!’ Ruby snatched her hand away, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. The thought of Jonas storming into Matron’s inner sanctum was so ludicrous that she giggled. ‘No, please don’t.’
Taking a large, white handkerchief from his pocket, Jonas handed it to Ruby, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. ‘I made you laugh, Ruby. I’ve never seen you laugh before.’
‘You ain’t never given me anything to laugh about.’ Ruby blew her nose in the hanky, glaring at Jonas over its white folds. ‘All you done is to threaten me and Joe with violence.
That’s your answer to everything, Mr Crowe.’
‘Not everything,’ Jonas said, brushing a lock of hair back from Ruby’s forehead. ‘I’ve given you a hard time, using you to get to your brother.’
‘Are you saying you’re sorry?’
‘Am I sorry that I separated you from your worthless brother and selfish sister? Not in the least.’
‘Here,’ Ruby said, thrusting the crumpled hanky into his hand. ‘Take it back and don’t you dare say nothing about my family.’
Frowning, Jonas tossed the offending hanky onto the floor. ‘Ruby, you’re worth a dozen of them. Can’t you see that?’
‘I – I don’t understand you,’ Ruby said breathlessly. ‘What do you want of me?’
For a moment Jonas was silent, his expression unreadable, but Ruby sensed a tension in him that made her suddenly wary. He seemed to be fighting some deep and dangerous emotion; she could feel it in the air like an approaching thunderstorm. She attempted to rise but Jonas was too quick for her and he laid his hands on her shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes.
‘Ruby. You really don’t know, do you?’
Alarmed by the timbre of his voice and the burning desire that clouded his eyes, Ruby pressed her hands against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but it was as futile a gesture as that of a mouse trying to escape from a cat and
Jonas drew her into his arms, holding her so that there was no escape. His mouth was hot and demanding, savage and yet strangely exciting. It was hard to breathe, impossible to think. The world was spinning as he released her just enough to hold her at arm’s length.
‘You’re not used to being kissed, are you, Ruby?’
‘I been kissed,’ Ruby said breathlessly, remembering timid pecks on the cheek and bolder but brief excursions to her lips by boys who had occasionally walked her home from school or church. ‘But not by a rotten swine like you.’
Instead of being angry, as she had expected, Jonas’s eyes gleamed with amusement and he chuckled. ‘I’ve always admired your spirit, Ruby. I recognised it the moment I set eyes on you at the funeral. You’ve got brains and beauty and I’d bet my last farthing that you’ve got depths of passion buried beneath that prim and proper exterior.’