The iron bedsteads stretched in serried ranks down the length of the ward. Nurses bustled about bristling with starched white aprons, caps and cuffs, and there
was a cathedral-like hush. The male patients lay on their backs with the sheets tucked up to their necks like well-behaved schoolboys asleep in their dormitories.
Giles led her to the bed nearest the door where the curtains were drawn together. He held them apart. ‘You’ll be allowed to stay for a short time only. We’ll wait for you.’
Lucetta laid her hand on his arm. ‘Thank you, Giles, but I’d rather you took Mary home. I’m not leaving Lennie here alone.’
‘They won’t allow you to stay, my dear.’
She raised her chin. ‘We’ll see about that.’
He smiled in response and brushed her cheek with a kiss. ‘We’ll be here when you need us.’ He let the curtain fall and she was alone at the bedside.
Guthrie stirred and his eyelids fluttered as if in response to her presence.
‘Lennie, it’s me,’ Lucetta said softly. She pulled up a chair and sat down beside him, taking his hand as it lay on the white counterpane. ‘You’re going to get better now. You’ll soon be home.’
He opened his eyes, focusing them on her face with an obvious effort. ‘Lucy?’
‘Yes, it’s me, Lennie. I’m here.’ She squeezed his fingers gently, forcing her lips into a smile, but she was frightened by his gaunt appearance. His skin had a grey tone to it and his eyes appeared sunken in his skull. His lips were dry and cracked and he seemed to find it difficult to speak.
‘Thirsty,’ he murmured.
Lucetta looked round for water but there was none.
She was about to get up and look for a nurse when the curtains were pulled aside and a nurse appeared as if by magic. She placed a jug and a glass on the locker beside the bed.
‘Sips of water only,’ she said sternly. ‘You can stay for five minutes, miss, but then I must ask you to leave. The patient needs rest.’
She was gone before Lucetta had time to argue. She poured water into the glass and held it to Guthrie’s lips. ‘Don’t go,’ he gasped. ‘Don’t leave me.’
‘I’m not going anywhere, Lennie. I’ll be here when you wake, I promise.’ She settled back on the chair, taking hold of his hand once again and stroking it gently as he drifted back to sleep.
She must have dozed off herself as she awakened suddenly to find the nurse standing beside her. ‘You must leave now.’
Lucetta shook her head. ‘I would rather stay.’
‘It’s against the rules, I’m afraid. I must ask you to go now, please.’
‘Damn the rules,’ Lucetta said stubbornly. ‘You will have to carry me bodily from this place. I promised Lennie that I would be here when he woke up.’
‘I’ll fetch the doctor.’
‘Do that, but he won’t make me change my mind.’
Minutes later the curtains were pulled apart and Dr Richards faced her with a worried frown. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Guthrie, but I must agree with Sister. You should go home and get some rest. Visiting hours are from three o’clock until four on Tuesdays and Fridays, and two o’clock until three on Sundays.’
‘Then I’m definitely not leaving,’ Lucetta said, settling further down onto the hard wooden chair. ‘If I go now it will be two days before I can visit again, and that is just not good enough.’
Guthrie opened his eyes and he gave a start when he saw the doctor. ‘Don’t let them take me leg, Lucy. Tell him I can wiggle me toes. Look.’ He stared down at the hump in the bed where a cage covered the afflicted limb. ‘I’m wiggling them, can you see? They itch something terrible. Will you scratch them for me, Lucy?’
Lucetta looked up at the doctor for confirmation, but he shook his head. ‘They often feel the amputated limb as if it were still there,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t be alarmed.’
‘What’s he saying?’ Guthrie demanded. ‘Tell him to go away, Lucy. I won’t have me leg cut off.’
Lucetta leaned forward to stroke Guthrie’s brow. ‘It’s all right, Lennie. I won’t let them touch you.’
Dr Richards beckoned to the nurse who was hovering at the far side of the bed. ‘Make up a dose of laudanum, nurse. And allow the young lady to stay as she seems to have a quietening influence on the patient. Keep the curtains drawn so that he does not disturb the rest of the ward.’
Lucetta twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile. ‘Thank you, doctor. I’m most grateful.’
‘Giles told me that you were a very capable young lady. I can see that he was right, but this is strictly against the hospital rules.’
‘I understand, and I’ll be very quiet.’
He acknowledged this with a nod of his head. The
curtain rings rattled as he drew the curtains behind him and Lucetta was left alone with Guthrie.
She lost all track of time as she kept her vigil at his bedside. The routine of the ward went on outside the curtains but Lucetta concentrated her attention on Guthrie, willing him to pull through. They were left alone except for the occasional visit from one of the nurses as she checked Guthrie’s pulse and temperature. The daylight faded and shadows deepened. Lucetta found herself drifting off to the other-world place between sleeping and waking, and although she fought to stay awake she only realised that she had lost that particular battle when she opened her eyes and found the cubicle suffused by the soft glow of gaslight. She was stiff, cold and her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had eaten nothing since the previous evening. She sat upright, listening to the now familiar sounds of pattering feet and the clank of bedpans, the moans of the other patients and the soft whispering voices of the nurses going about their duties.
She realised suddenly that something was terribly wrong. She could not hear Guthrie breathing. Fingers of panic clutched at her heart as she leaned over the bed. His eyes were closed and his skin was the colour of old parchment, stretched taut over his cheekbones like the skin on a drum. She held her shaking hand close to his mouth. He was cold and still. She grasped him by the shoulders, shaking him like a terrier with a rat. ‘Lennie, Lennie, speak to me.’ She felt hysteria rising in her throat as his head lolled to one side and his jaw dropped. ‘Lennie. Open your eyes. It’s me, Lucy.’
Someone was attempting to drag her away from him but she wouldn’t let go. She buried her head on his chest, sobbing. ‘No, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to let you die alone.’
Hands prised her fingers loose and she was lifted bodily. Dimly, she recognised a familiar voice as she was carried from the ward. ‘It’s all right, Lucetta. I’m here.’
She opened her eyes to find herself lying on a bed in a side ward. Giles was sitting by her side, holding her hand. She snapped into a sitting position. ‘Lennie. I must go to him, Giles.’
He shook his head. ‘No one can hurt him now. His heart couldn’t cope with the toxins already in his system and he succumbed to post-operative shock. It happens all too often in cases such as his, but it was quick and painless. He died peacefully in his sleep.’
She bent her head, hiccuping on a sob. ‘Oh, poor man. He was so frightened of dying.’
Giles wrapped his arms around her and held her while she sobbed broken-heartedly against his shoulder. He stroked her hair, speaking to her softly. ‘Nothing and no one can harm him now. He was a wanted man, Lucetta. The law would have caught up with him sooner or later and he would have been hanged. This was a far better way out for him and you mustn’t feel guilty. You cared for him until the last.’ He took a large handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her eyes. ‘When you feel strong enough I’ll take you home.’
‘I have no home now, Giles.’
‘Mary has given me the strictest instructions to
take you back to Lonsdale Square. She would never forgive me if I went against her wishes.’
Lucetta took the hankie from him and blew her nose in its pristine white folds. ‘I don’t know why you are both so kind to me when I’ve been nothing but trouble.’
‘I won’t listen to such talk,’ he said briskly. ‘You’ll feel better when you’ve had a decent meal and a good night’s sleep.’
She gave him a watery smile. ‘Is that doctor’s orders?’
‘It most certainly is. Do you feel strong enough to walk or shall I carry you?’
‘I’m fine.’ She swung her legs over the side of the high bed. ‘But what about Lennie? I can’t just leave him here.’
‘I’ll make all the necessary arrangements. Don’t worry about a thing.’
‘And Sam. I should go back to the house. He’ll expect to find me there.’
‘A message will be sent to him. He can visit you in Lonsdale Square.’
Obedient as a small child, she placed her hand in his. ‘Thank you for everything, Giles. You are a true friend.’
The warmth and luxury of the house in Lonsdale Square was almost overwhelming, as was the welcome that Lucetta received from Mary and Sir Hector. Their unspoken sympathy was more touching than a thousand well-chosen words, and ever-practical Mary had made certain that everything had been done to make Lucetta feel at home. A bath had been run for her and her old
bedroom had been made ready with a fire burning in the grate and her nightclothes laid out on the bed.
‘Everything is as you left it,’ Mary said gently. ‘Mrs Bullen has prepared a special supper for you and if you don’t feel like coming downstairs, I’ll have it brought to you on a tray.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Lucetta murmured. ‘I don’t know why you are being so good to me.’
‘We love you, that’s why.’ Mary slipped her arm around Lucetta’s shoulders and gave her a hug. ‘Now I suggest you take that bath. The smell of the hospital clings to everything.’
Lucetta gazed longingly at the clean nightgown and wrap laid out on the bed and the starched cotton sheets and pillowcases. ‘I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to feel really clean and to have fresh clothes every day. Having to wash in a basinful of tepid water and using lye soap is the worst torture of all. No wonder the poor find it so hard to keep clean.’
‘That’s all in the past now, Daisy. I had all your belongings brought back from Stanton Lacey. Everything is here.’
‘I won’t forget this, Mary,’ Lucetta said sincerely. ‘But I must return to Samson’s Green tomorrow.’
‘This is your home for as long as you want it,’ Mary said firmly. ‘That part of your life is over now. You are Lucetta Froy and we can prove it.’
‘Has a message been sent to Sam? He will be wondering why I haven’t returned.’
‘Everything has been attended to. You’ll see him tomorrow but in the meantime you must rest and try
not to worry. Things will look better after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.’
Next morning Lucetta was awakened by the now unfamiliar sound of the maid raking the ashes in the grate as she prepared to relight the fire. Lucetta stretched and yawned, luxuriating in the comfort of the feather mattress. The delicious aroma of hot chocolate emanated from a silver pot on the small table close to her bed and curls of steam issued from the hot water jug on the washstand. The maid put a match to the fire and scrambled to her feet, bobbing a curtsey when she realised that Lucetta was awake.
‘I hope I didn’t disturb you, miss.’
‘No, not at all. It’s Maisie, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, miss. It’s kind of you to remember. Will there be anything else?’
Lucetta smiled. If only the child knew how she had been living for the last few months she might not be so deferential now. ‘No, thank you, Maisie.’
‘I’ll just pour your chocolate then, shall I?’ Maisie seemed reluctant to leave without having performed some small service.
‘Yes, thank you.’ Lucetta had been going to refuse, but she could see that the girl was eager to please. She accepted a cup brimming with the dark, sweet-smelling chocolate. ‘That will be all, thank you, Maisie.’
‘Yes, miss.’
Maisie stooped to pick up the bucket and cleaning tools and Lucetta experienced a wave of pity for the skinny little creature as she staggered out of the room.
In the past, Lucetta had never given the plight of their servants much thought and she had accepted their ministrations without question, but now she was seeing things differently. She had learned what it was like to be at the bottom end of the social scale and it had opened her eyes to the hardships and privations suffered by those less fortunate than herself. She thought about the warehouse and the men who slaved away for low wages, receiving little or no thanks from Jeremiah, and she wondered if her father had treated them any better. There was Perks who served the company faithfully and had a position of trust but could not afford to purchase a new shirt when the collar and cuffs wore through on his old one, even though they had been turned and probably turned again. He had been obliged to work on Boxing Day and she had no doubt that Jeremiah would have had all the men in on Christmas Day itself had the necessity arisen.
She finished her chocolate and threw back the coverlet. She might not be able to save the world, but she was Lucetta Froy, the rightful heir to her father’s company which was being run into the ground by her uncle and cousin. Perhaps the only way she could lay the ghost of Guthrie’s sad past and that of those like him was to stand up and fight the Bradley Froys of this world. She rose from her bed and dressed in one of the elegant gowns that she had thought never to see again. Plain Lucy Guthrie in her second-hand clothes and down-at-heel boots would stand little chance of making a difference, but Miss Lucetta Froy, heiress to a considerable fortune, must be taken seriously. She sat at the
rosewood dressing table and put her hair up in coils on the top of her head. A spray of cologne finished her toilette and she was ready to start the day. She was about to rise when she remembered Sam and she paused, staring at her face in the mirror. Was she the same girl who had fallen so madly in love with a young seafarer? Was she still in love with him? She shook her head gravely. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I just don’t know.’
She stood up with a satisfying swish of silk skirts and starched moreen petticoats and she closed her eyes in a moment of silent remembrance for Guthrie. She could see him now, seated by the fire in their tiny living room with his feet resting on the broken fender that he had liberated from a rubbish tip. He was smiling proudly as she paraded her new-found finery in front of him. She could hear him telling her to ‘sort the old bugger out’. She smiled despite the tears that stung the backs of her eyes.