“Tell me!”
“You know of Florence Nightingale?”
“Of course. She graduated from the Kaiserworth Deaconness Hospital a few years before me.”
“I’d forgotten,” her brother said. He moved back to the chair behind his desk and sat facing her. She thought that as he grew older he came to look more like their father.
She said, “Why did you mention Miss Nightingale?”
He hesitated. “I know you are much dedicated to your work here in London.”
“My lunatics seem more sane each day this war madness lasts.”
“Yes,” James said with a sigh. “Like myself, you are basically opposed to this war.”
“Firmly opposed!”
“This makes my message difficult to offer,” James told her with a frown. “I can only hope you will listen with sympathy. This war is being fought a long way off in a primitive area. We are sending many troops out there and I’m afraid it’s going to be a long and bloody massacre.”
“None of this is news to me.”
“Her Majesty’s Government is concerned about the medical care of these men.”
“Rank hypocrisy! Why send them to be massacred?”
James shrugged. “I cannot answer that. Government often is inconsistent and appears to make little sense.”
“I agree.”
“But whether right or wrong in conducting the war the government does want to give its fighting men all the protection possible. I’m talking now of medical protection. We have a good supply of doctors but no nurses.”
“No nurses?” This was surprising.
“None,” James said. “The Russians and the French have their Catholic Sisters of Charity. God alone knows what the Turks have to offer in the way of nurses. But I know we have no nurses at all!”
“Another disgraceful example of the government’s ineptitude,” she said.
“No doubt of it,” he said. “But it so happens that the Secretary of War, Sidney Herbert, is a close friend of Florence Nightingale. He happens to be a reformer, and an earnest humanitarian.”
“So he neglects the unfortuunate at home to send the equally unfortunate off to be massacred. I’m not impressed!”
“Wait a minute,” James begged her. “To accomplish things in government one must be practical and often one must compromise. When this war is over I’m sure I can enlist Sidney Herbert in your plan to reform the hospitals for the insane. But he won’t listen to the idea now. But should you become associated with Florence Nightingale in the work he’s assigned to her, you can almost count on his support later.”
“What work has he assigned Florence Nightingale?”
“He has asked her to organize a group of fifty or so nurses to leave England in October for the Crimea.”
She shook her head. “These women will be looked on as camp followers! A sort of prostitute! It is unheard of for women who are not members of religious orders to engage in army nursing.”
“Whatever they will be called, such a group is being formed,” her brother said. “And most of the women will be nurses like yourself, without affiliation to any religious order.”
She stared at him for a long moment of silence. Then she asked, “Do you want me to join Florence Nightingale’s group?”
“I don’t see how you can refuse to join it,” he said. “This is your chance to win powerful friends for your cause in the government.”
“What about my mad people?”
“They got on before you came and they will manage now,” James said. “And you will be able to really improve their lot on your return.”
“If I return,” she pointed out.
“Hospitals will be established far behind the battle lines. I would expect that you would never be asked to experience any actual danger in the face of the enemy.”
“Hospitals far behind the lines do not strike me as being of much use.”
“I do not know the details,” her brother confessed. “I would not suggest this to you if I did not think you’d be reasonably safe.”
“There are other risks beside battle,” she said.
“I know,” he agreed. “Risk of disease and travel. But we face risks every day of our lives here in London. I’m sure you take more chances than most in your work at Bedlam.”
She smiled grimly. “You’re asking me to give my support to a war of which I do not approve.”
“But for an excellent reason.”
She nodded. “You don’t expect me to refuse.”
“I hope you won’t,” he admitted. “The war cannot last long. But the good coming from your taking part will be of assistance to you in your work for years ahead.”
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll talk with Miss Nightingale.”
The woman who faced her across the desk was slender, slightly older than herself, and possessed of a plain but intelligent face. She wore a plain, gray dress similar to those Joy remembered from Kaiserworth. She could not help feeling nervous in the knowledge that this was the formidable Miss Florence Nightingale.
Florence Nightingale studied her with quiet interest. “So you were at Kaiserworth?”
“Yes. In Kaiserworth I gained valuable experience about hospital organization. But I must say I learned more about real nursing by working in a village hospital in Scotland.”
“I’m sure that is true,” the older woman said.
Joy said, “I have been told you plan to recruit your nurses from outside the religious orders?”
“That is true,” the woman behind the desk agreed. “That is why I have to be extremely careful in my choice of young women.”
“Without a doubt.”
“I cannot afford to have anyone who might bring the slightest scandal to us.”
Joy said dryly, “I doubt, with that in mind, that I could qualify.”
“I have heard about you,” Florence Nightingale said, watching her closely. “I know almost everything about your past. I also know what you have done to improve conditions in Bedlam this past year. Weighing one thing against the other, I’m more than ready to gamble on you. As a matter of fact I’d like to invite you to be my chief assistant in this venture.”
Joy was taken by surprise. “You think I warrant such a great responsibility?”
“You have courage and spirit. Qualities which I know will be needed.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I shall try hard not to fail you.”
At that moment she had little idea of what it would mean to be the second in command to the hard-working Miss Florence Nightingale. But in the days which followed she soon learned the task was immense, and her superior a hard taskmaster. Yet she came to have nothing but admiration for the plain, aging nurse, and was dedicated in her devotion to her.
She had a great many interviews with young women who felt a call to join the nursing corps. Many of them, in fact most of them, were unsuited to the challenge for one reason or another. When she had a few recruits, Joy began organizing their training in operating diet kitchens, primitive sanitary engineering, the preparation of surgical dressings. They were also taught how to supply postal services, and some recreational activity.
Late one afternoon, a few weeks after Joy had accepted office in the group, a weary Florence Nightingale summoned her to the private office. The older woman stood up to greet her and said, “Time is getting short. We do not have enough nurses from the volunteers. Have you any suggestions?”
Remembering her experiences in Germany, Joy said, “The Roman Catholic Sisters of Charity have a fine nursing staff. They are active almost everywhere. I’m sure some of them might be allowed to join us if we approached the proper authorities.”
The older woman brightened. “That is a possibility. I should have tried before, but I was afraid there might be obstacles. But you are right, no harm can be done in asking.”
“There are others,” Joy continued. “I’m thinking of Miss Sellon’s Nursing Sisterhood and the nurses from St. John’s House. I know the women in charge of both groups. I can discuss our need with them if you like.”
“Please do,” Florence Nightingale said. “Between us we surely will get enough new members to complete our party.”
“Getting such trained personnel would provide additional benefits. We would have less work to do in preparing them for their nursing duties.”
The older woman nodded and sat at her desk again. She gave a long sigh and said, “Would you believe it? Even before we are ready to embark to the Crimea I’m having to deal with opposition to our work.”
“Opposition?”
“You shouldn’t be surprised. Some of the military doctors are of the opinion they can do better without us. And one of the officers in charge of preparing the ground for us, Colonel Thomas Sanger, has tried to win support for a rival nursing group.”
“And we are expected to cooperate with him?”
“He is the chief army officer assigned to us.”
“You should complain!”
“I have. It has done no good. I have been personally criticized as a fanatic. And they have smeared your name. It seems Colonel Sanger was a crony of your late husband Sir George Nason. He knows about your running off to Scotland with that young doctor.”
Joy at once said, “If my being your assistant is a source of embarrassment to you I’ll gladly resign.”
Florence Nightingale raised a thin hand in protest. “There is no question of your resigning. You are invaluable to me.”
She crimsoned with pride. “You are too kind.”
“I’m being honest,” her superior said crisply. “And I’ve told Colonel Sanger so.”
“I do not recall him. But then I knew few of my husband’s friends.”
“Sir George was a noted womanizer and gambler, was he not?”
“Yes.”
“One could hardly blame you for leaving him.”
Joy said grimly, “There were many reasons. He abused me physically and he was suffering from a repulsive social disease. He married me for my inheritance.”
“Dear me!” Florence Nightingale was shocked. “I had no idea it was that bad.”
“It was,” Joy said. “I shed no tears when he died. Then I made an unfortunate second marriage to Ernest Layton, who was murdered, as you must recall.”
“Yes,” Florence Nightingale said. “Colonel Sanger went over your history. He laid great stress on your leaving Sir George and going to Scotland with that doctor.”
“I’m sure the Colonel made it sound much different from what the true situation was.”
“I have no doubt of that.”
“Going to Scotland was my initiation into nursing,” she said. And she explained more about John Hastings, and what he had meant to her.
The older woman listened and then said, “You must give this no more thought. I’m glad you’ve been frank. It means I shall be better able to handle the Colonel.”
“I’d be glad to face him,” Joy said.
“Don’t think about it, Lady Joy,” her superior told her. She reached down for some forms which were to be completed, and then glancing up again, said, “By the way we are having an officer assigned to us. He will be with us all the time and act as liason with the unfriendly Colonel Sanger.”
“Will that be helpful?”
“I’m certain it can be. The important thing is that the officer should turn out to be sympathetic to our work.”
“Agreed,” Joy said.
“We should try to be as friendly with the fellow as possible. Let him understand we are honestly trying to cooperate.”
“Of course.”
Florence Nightingale smiled grimly. “And we can hope he will give Colonel Sanger good reports about us. Though I doubt that bigoted man would wish to hear them.”
“It may be a way to deal with the Colonel.”
“This officer will be working mostly with you,” the older woman said. “I shall give my requirement lists and my various instructions to you. And you, in turn, will pass on part of this to him.”
Joy was apprehensive. “Do you think I’m best suited for the task?”
“Yes,” her superior said. “I’m so convinced of it that one of the other ladies will assume most of your training work. This liaison duty can be of the greatest importance to us.”
“Who is the officer?” she asked.
“A Captain Colin Hill.”
“The name is not familiar to me,” she said.
“It soon will be,” Florence Nightingale said tersely. “You and this young man will be working together all the time.”
“I see,” she said, wondering what he would be like.
“He is from Devon, I understand,” Florence Nightingale said. “He is highly regarded at Headquarters. The reason for his being assigned to us is that he is recovering from a chest wound which he received in India. He is not well enough for regular army duty.”
“Then this is probably his only chance of going to the Crimea.”
“Exactly,” her superior said. “I understand he has been promised a return to his own regiment when his health recovers sufficiently.”
“Interesting,” she said. “When will he join us?”
“Within a week.”
A few evenings later when she was dining with Hilda and James she mentioned the liaison officer. saying, “He is from Devon. His name is Captain Colin Hill.”
James looked thoughtful. “I think I know of him.”
She was at once interested. “Can you tell me anything about him? Will he be difficult to work with?”
Her brother smiled. “He’s a reckless chap with a lot of charm by all accounts. He distinguished himself in India. But he was badly wounded.”
She nodded. “It’s the same one. He’s on invalid status. That is why he’s been assigned to us.”
James seemed loath to stop praising the young officer. He told her, “I have no doubt he’s impatient to be back with a fighting unit. In India he was regarded as fearless. He took so many risks, and emerged without harm, his men came to call him ‘Lucky Colin’. I have been told they’d follow him anywhere.”
Joy said, “Since he was finally wounded badly his luck appears to have run out.”
“It was bound to, considering the risks he took,” her brother said. “He’s still one of the most popular young officers in the service. I’m certain you’ll like him.”
“I’m curious to meet this wonder hero,” Joy said with a wry smile. “From my knowledge of men I daren’t expect too much. I only hope he is more favorably disposed towards Miss Nightingale than his superior officer, Colonel Sanger.”
“Tom Sanger!” James said incredulously. “He was a close friend of Sir George! A thoroughly corrupt person! A gambler and also a notorious womanizer!”