by Shirley Roe
“But it is Saturday. You promised we would go to Mother's for a visit.”
“I will drop you and Brian at your mother's and then I will go to the store. Just an hour Elizabeth, your father is counting on me.” Tim took his job very seriously. Elizabeth smiled at him and kissed the top of his head. He was such a good father and an excellent husband.
Tim left Elizabeth at her mother's and went straight to the store, where he piled boxes neatly against the wall. Arthur arrived moments later. “Tim, what are you doing here on a Saturday? Why, you are getting as bad as me when it comes to this business.”
“What are you doing here, Arthur? I thought you would be playing with Brian.”
“Actually, I haven't been home yet. I was at the market. Here I will give you a hand and that way we can both play with Brian sooner.”
“What do you think about the Triple Entente between Britain, France and Russia, Tim?”
“I am concerned about Germany. They are quite the bully boys, those Germans.”
“Prime Minister Campbell Bannerman was right to work with France and Russia. However, now Germany is more isolated than ever. Troubled times in 1907, my boy.”
“Perhaps 1908 will be a better year. Any plans for New Year's Eve?”
“We are too old to be partying. How about you young people?”
“No, Elizabeth and I like to stay home with Brian. That is enough of a party for any man.”
They finished their work and soon arrived home to a beehive of activity. Young Brian was playing on the floor with Megan and Sammy. Elizabeth and her mother were preparing dinner, and everyone was talking and laughing. “This sounds like a happy household.”
“Very happy, because Megan has an announcement to make.” Elizabeth pecked Tim cheek.
“Megan?” Tim looked at his sister.
“Sammy and I are getting married.” Tim shook Sammy's hand and gave his sister a big hug.
“Wonderful news. Congratulations, Sammy, you are getting yourself a fine wife.”
“I think Elizabeth also has an announcement.” Judith Drury smiled at her husband widely.
“Elizabeth?” Tim was curious.
“I am with child. Tim we are having another baby.” Tim was very surprised; at first he just stood and stared at her. Finally, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Everyone gathered around the couple with congratulations.
“Looks like I will need another raise, Arthur.” His father-in-law just laughed.
“We are planning our wedding in two months. Elizabeth won't be too big then and she must be my bridesmaid.” Megan and Elizabeth started chattering about the wedding.
“Come on, Sammy my boy. You look like you need a whiskey.”
“I think I need one, too.” Tim laughed. Arthur and the men left the women to talk about babies and weddings.
The year ended on a happy note.
Eight months to the day, Elizabeth delivered a healthy, baby girl. Tim wanted to name her Bertha, after his mother, but Elizabeth preferred Dorothy. Little Dorothy was a chubby baby with bright red hair. Tim was thrilled with his little daughter, but big brother Brian just stared at her. “Why is she so small? When can she come and play with me?” Brian was impatient to have a playmate.
Drury Mercantile was very successful. Tim and Arthur looked over the books late one afternoon. “Did you hear that the Austrians have annexed Bosnia Herzegovina into the Austrian State, Tim?”
“Yes and the Russians and the Serbs are not happy about it. Russia is threatening war, but I think they will hold off when they realize that Austria has Germany's backing.”
“I certainly hope so. Judith was wondering if you and Elizabeth would bring the children over on Sunday for dinner.”
“I am sorry, Arthur, but we are having Megan and Sammy over to our house. Megan is almost ready to have her baby, and the two women love to talk about babies.” Tim put the ledgers back in the cupboard. He handed Arthur his coat. “Shall we go home to our wives?”
“Yes, we have done enough work for one day, and we don't seem to be solving the politics of the world.” The two men locked the store and walked together for a few blocks until Tim turned toward his house at the south end of town. He and Elizabeth had moved into a larger house at the beginning of the year. It was a quaint country two story with a large garden. Brian loved to swing and Tim had made a rope swing in the back for him. Elizabeth would not let him play on it without an adult present. When Tim arrived home, Brian immediately pulled him toward the back garden. “Swing Da, I want to swing.”
Tim put his son on the swing, and stayed to push him for a few minutes. He waved to his wife through the kitchen window. The garden needed tending and Tim made a mental note to do it on the weekend. He and Sammy could weed and trim while the ladies chatted. Brian wanted to stay on his swing, but Tim finally convinced the toddler that it was time to go in. Brian went reluctantly.
“He would stay on that swing all day if we let him.” Elizabeth put dinner on the table. The baby whimpered from her cot in the corner and Elizabeth changed her bottom before handing the baby to Tim. “Hello, my little angel.”
“She was not such an angel earlier. She screamed like a banshee because I wouldn't pick her up, but I have work to do. She will have to get used to lying in her cot. By the way, did you hear that Mr. Barstow passed away on Monday?”
Tim's head jerked in her direction at the mention of Jenny's uncle. “What? Who told you that?”
“Mrs. Goodall, today in the post office. She said he died in his sleep. Poor man, all alone.” Elizabeth placed a large piece of meat on Tim's plate. She picked up Dorothy and deposited her in her cot. “You stay here and be quiet, young lady.”
“When is the funeral? I must go and show my respect.”
“It is tomorrow. I can't go, not with the children to take care of.”
“It is all right, Elizabeth. I will go alone. Poor old fellow.” Tim finished eating. Later as he lay in bed, his thoughts turned to Jenny. I wonder if she will be at the funeral? Jenny, will you be alone?
Tim attended the funeral services, and noticed that there were about twenty people in attendance. He searched the crowd, but Jenny was not there. A strange sadness descended over him. Was it disappointment he was feeling? He realized he had been looking forward to seeing her again. Perhaps his feelings for Jenny would never die.
Chapter Seventeen
“I know I should have gone, but I really could not bear to leave Harry, when he is so ill.”
“Your place is here with your husband. Your uncle is dead and there is nothing you could have done to change that.” Amy handed Jenny some clean towels.
“Miles was here earlier. He said Harry has a very high fever.” Jenny wrung her hands together. She was worried.
“Miles is a good doctor, Jenny. Harry will be fine in a few days.”
“I must go and sit with him. Thank you for your help, Amy.” Amy put her coat on and left Jenny to tend to Harry. The servants were very subdued. Even they were worried about the master.
Jenny opened the bedroom door. Harry lay on the bed. His skin was pale and he was perspiring heavily. She mopped his brow with cool water, but he did not open his eyes. She whispered to him, “Harry, my darling, you must get better soon. I love you.”
That night Harry was delirious. Jenny watched over him praying to God that he would not die. The next morning, Miles arrived at the house to see his patient. “He must go to hospital, Jenny. He has pneumonia.” Jenny was frantic.
Harry was in hospital for three weeks and Jenny visited every day. The first week she could not see any improvement. He coughed and coughed and his breathing was shallow. After hours at his side, she would return home dejected. Zachariah and Abigail came to stay with her to provide much needed support. The second week, Miles assured her that Harry was getting better. Harry seemed to sleep most of the day. The cough seemed to subside. She brought him candy and fresh flowers and books to read and she watched his face for hours, praying that he wou
ld get better. By the end of the second week, he seemed to have more color in his face and he was also awake for longer periods. Finally, he started to improve.
“Dear God, Harry, I was so worried.” She kissed his cheek. He reached for her hand.
“I know, Love, but I am getting stronger every day. I will be home soon.”
She picked him up on Wednesday and took him home. The next day he insisted on going into the hospital to check on his patients. “Harry, you have only just come out of hospital yourself. Please wait a few days.” Jenny begged him.
“I have been lying around for almost a month, Jenny. I need to get back to work. I will just go in for an hour or two. I promise.” Harry was a dedicated doctor and she couldn't stop him. The butler helped Harry into his coat and Jenny wrapped a scarf around his neck and kissed his cheek. He left her at the doorway looking very worried. The Mitchells had purchased a 1907 Silver Ghost Rolls Royce and hired a chauffeur. Many people still used horse and carriages in Edinburgh, but Harry liked his automobile. Harry entered the back door of the car and a worried Jenny watched as the car drove away.
Harry kept his promise. After an hour he was tired to the point of exhaustion. He left his office, telling the head nurse, “I think I might have overdone it. I will go home and lie down and rest.” She shook her head. Doctors were the worst patients.
The Rolls Royce was parked down the street. The chauffeur, Stewart dozed in the driver's seat waiting for the Master. Harry saw the car from the doorway of the hospital. His head was spinning and he felt woozy. As he walked from the hospital onto the street, he stepped off the curb. He took a few steps into the street, when a speeding carriage appeared to his left. Unable to get out of the way, the panicking horses trampled him and the carriage wheel ran over his legs. The carriage driver did his best to slow the panicked horses and the passenger in the carriage looked out the window in horror.
People came from all directions to see if Harry was all right. Stewart awoke to the commotion and realizing that Mr. Mitchell was lying in the street, rushed to his side. Doctors and nurses appeared immediately, pushing the worried chauffeur away, but Stewart would not leave until he knew his master was taken care of.
Soon Harry was back inside the hospital walls, once again as a patient. Stewart returned home to tell Jenny. She was mortified. When Stewart returned to the hospital with Jenny, Miles was waiting for her.
“Miles, dear Lord, how is he?” Jenny's face was stained with tears.
“Jenny, come and sit down.” Miles offered her a chair. His face was very somber.
“No, I want to see Harry! Where is he?” She stood in the doorway.
“He has just come from surgery. You can see him shortly, but I need to speak with you.”
Miles ushered her into his office. She sat in the large leather chair, holding her breath and praying.
“What is it Miles? I know something is wrong.” Miles took a minute before speaking.
“I am afraid Harry has lost the use of his legs, Jenny. He is crippled.”
“Oh God no! Dear God no!” She sobbed uncontrollably. Miles handed her a handkerchief and waited. There was nothing else to say. Jenny repeated Harry's name over and over for several minutes and then, gathering all of her strength, she asked to see him.
Regaining her composure the best that she could, she went to see her husband. He was awake. “Darling, how are you feeling?”
“I can't feel my legs, Jenny. I can't feel anything.” He looked at her like a scared little boy and it broke her heart. She clasped his hand tightly.
“Miles said that you were badly hurt, Darling. I want you to rest. We will do whatever we have to do, to get you better.” She pulled the sheets up to his chin.
“Jenny, I said I can't feel my legs. For God sake woman, I am a crippled,” he barked at her. “And it is the cursed Murphys that did this to me.”
Jenny stared at him in shocked silence. Finally, finding her voice she asked quietly, “The Murphys? What have they to do with this accident?”
“It was their carriage. I saw Ruth Murphy staring at me out of the window when they carried me into the hospital.” Jenny thought he was hallucinating. “Don't look at me like that, Jenny. I saw her. It was the Murphy's carriage. They won't stop until they destroy us all.”
“Please, Harry calm yourself. Perhaps you were hallucinating, the accident was very traumatic.” She touched his cheek. He was angry.
“I said it was Ruth Murphy and it was, I know what I saw. Now she has left me crippled for life.” Harry turned away from her.
“Don't say that. You have just been in a terrible accident. We will get you better and we will do whatever we have to and you will walk again. You will walk again.” Jenny was determined. She would not accept the inevitable. Worried more about Harry's state of mind, she would not accept that Ruth Murphy had run over Harry. She refused to think about it. She stayed for hours, but finally went home exhausted.
As they drove the streets, she asked Stewart if he knew whose carriage it was that had injured her husband. “It was that Lord Provost feller's family, the Murphys. I saw the carriage driver, old Joe, who I've known for years.” He shook his head from side to side, “It was an accident. Poor bloke was devastated.” Stewart looked at Jenny for confirmation that she believed it was accidental. She nodded and turned away. Arriving home, Stewart was not convinced his Mistress thought it was unintentional. He shook his head and went out to the garage. Jenny walked into the house as if in a trance. Jenny sat in the parlor for hours, staring at the flames in the fireplace.
She returned to the hospital every day like clockwork. She read to Harry, she told him about Gordon's new research project and she tried to get him to show some interest in life.
Harry was depressed. The nurses had to force him to eat and he barely spoke to Jenny when she visited. She was growing more and more concerned. Jenny tried to remain brave when she was with Harry, but at night she cried herself to sleep.
Six weeks after the accident, she went to see Miles. “I want to know exactly what I have to do, to get Harry walking again. Don't tell me that he can't, I won't hear of it. Do you hear me?” She stood in front of his desk in a challenging stance. Miles knew she was determined.
“Jenny, Harry has a fifty-fifty chance of walking again. He is a reticent patient at the moment and his mental outlook is not good. One of his legs was very badly mangled. We did what we could to repair the damage, but it was very bad. The other leg did not require as much work; he may get the use of that leg with exercise and therapy. For now he will have to use a wheelchair.”
“Fine, thank you Miles. That is all I wanted to know. I will go home and we will start his exercises. Who can I see for instruction?” Miles looked at her with wonder. She was a very determined woman. If anyone could make Harry walk again, it was Jenny.
“Go and see, Mr. Evan Smith. He is the hospital therapist and he has come up with some interesting therapies. He can provide you with a list of exercises. Good luck, Jenny. I like Harry and we will miss him here at the hospital. He was one of our best.”
“Don't write him off yet, Miles. Harry can visit patients in his wheelchair.”
The idea threw Miles off guard. He let the words fly before thinking. “Yes he can. I am not sure if he will want to, though. You see how depressed he is. He seems to have lost his will to live.” Jenny looked at him as if he had slapped her.
“Do not say that, Miles. Harry will get better. I promise you. Harry will be back soon.” With that she turned on her heel and left. Miles stared at the door for several minutes in utter amazement. I hope you are right Jenny.
The servants set up a bed in Harry's study, as the stairs were an impossibility for him now. For the next three months, Jenny pushed Harry to exercise every day, at least four times a day and it became an obsession. Amy would try to convince Jenny that she needed to go shopping or out to lunch, but Jenny would not leave Harry's side. It went very slowly at first. Harry didn't want to t
ry and he would not listen to her. Several times she shouted at him in frustration and then regretted it. He would react by retreating into silence. It was a great strain on their relationship.
When he did try, Harry experienced excruciating pain, sometimes for hours after his exercises. Feeling helpless, Jenny went back to Miles for help. “Go and see Mr. Cho down in Haymarket.”
“Mr. Cho? Who is he and how can he help Harry?” Miles looked at her wisely.
“Sometimes we have to look beyond modern medicine, Jenny. Mr. Cho has had much success with some of our patients, when we could do no more. Just go and see him.”
“I will do anything, Miles and thank you.” She picked up her coat and turned toward the door.
“And, Jenny, go with an open mind.” She looked at Miles curiously. She would soon see what he meant.
Jenny traveled to Haymarket and located Mr. Cho. The store was tiny and cluttered. Every possible space was filled with apothecary jars of mysterious liquids and several dried plants hung from boards against the wall. Behind the counter a tiny oriental man stood, watching a parakeet walk across the counter. He seemed in a trance.
“Mr. Cho?” Jenny was uneasy. He smiled. His entire countenance was peaceful and serene and Jenny found herself drawn to him. Oddly, she trusted him completely. Jenny talked to Mr. Cho about Harry's condition. Mr. Cho agreed to come to see him. Days later, the tiny man arrived at the Mitchell's home.
“Harry, this is Mr. Cho. He is going to help you.” Harry looked at the oriental man skeptically. However, he offered his hand, which was ignored. Mr. Cho bowed respectfully. Harry waited to hear what Mr. Cho had to say. He knew Jenny was trying everything possible to help him.
Mr. Cho convinced Harry to try acupuncture treatments. At first Harry was very skeptical. He allowed the treatments, but held little faith in them. Jenny thought it was very strange to see Harry with tiny needles protruding from his legs and back. Mr. Cho came every day for two weeks and then every other day. Soon, Harry realized that the pain he felt was much less severe. “I actually think it is working, Jenny.” Harry was as surprised as anyone. Jenny was ecstatic