‘I’m dying to take your clothes off right now,’ he whispered into her ear, ‘but I don’t know how clean the bed is.’
She laughed out loud. No matter what happened from here, gone was the gloom hovering above them.
Matt let her go and returned to the table. He picked up his phone to check the time. ‘It’s five o’clock. Are you hungry?’
‘A little.’
While he rummaged around in his backpack, Emma glanced out the window. The storm had cleared out to sea but another was brewing in the south. Thunder rumbled and the rain continued to fall steadily. They would be stuck in the cottage for some hours.
‘Muesli bar, banana or salt and vinegar chips?’
Emma turned to look at the food he’d laid out on the table. ‘The chips.’
He grabbed the packet and opened it. They crunched hungrily, standing in the dark room, watching the flickering lantern light and listening to the rain pound the roof.
‘What else was in the trunk?’ she asked.
Matt dusted his hands of salt. ‘Apart from the diaries, just some old blankets and ladies and children’s clothing. I haven’t been through the whole thing yet.’
Emma balled up the empty chip packet. ‘Should we look through it together since we have time to kill?’
Matt kissed her his answer. They knelt beside the trunk and Emma opened the lid. Scattered across the top were the diaries Matt had already read and layers of folded blankets and clothing.
‘These diaries end with Bessie’s death,’ Matt said.
‘What’s underneath here?’ Emma asked, peeking beneath the blankets.
‘I didn’t get that far.’
She lifted the pile of blankets and clothes and found beneath them more diaries, with similar brown hardcovers and tiny metal lock clasps. ‘Wow, there are so many. Rose was quite the writer.’
Matt brought the lantern down to the floor and cast the light over them.
Tucked away in the pile of diaries was a larger page folded over. Emma recognised the yellowing paper instantly for she’d seen it before in the First Class Hospital Registration Book. Matt leant in with the lantern as she unfolded it and laid it out on her lap. May 1919—First Class Maternity Ward. It was the missing May page.
There were just two baby names listed there—Gwendoline Anne Briar and Eloise Cordelia Jane Asquith.
‘It looks like at some point in May both babies were admitted to the maternity ward. Not sure why someone would rip the page out,’ Matt said.
‘Maybe the duke didn’t want any affiliation with Gwendoline,’ Emma said.
‘But why is the page hidden in here? Why wouldn’t the duke have it or have seen to it that it was destroyed?’
‘I’m not sure.’
Matt reached for the piles of diaries, stretching open the covers a little so that the hidden keys fell out.
‘You’ve gotten good at that,’ she said, smiling.
‘I’ve read enough of them by now to know where she hid the keys.’ He unlocked each one, placing the lantern light over the pages, flicking through them, like he was in search of something particular.
‘What are you looking for?’
‘Bessie died on the twenty-second of May, 1919. I’m looking for Rose’s entries dated from that day onwards. If we know Rose as well as I think we do, she’s going to tell us exactly what happened and why someone would want to hide that maternity page.’
His fingers traced the tops of the diary pages, across the dates, working backwards from July 1919 and June 1919. Then he tapped one suddenly. ‘Got it. Twenty-fourth of May, 1919.’
24th May, 1919
The hospital fire took everyone by surprise. It was midnight; sirens wailing, flames licking the sky like the fires of hell. The station was in a panic. People were everywhere, fleeing the wards, the verandahs, the tents outside as the blaze tore through.
I had come from the cemetery, laying flowers on my dear friend’s grave, not long after burying her; her tombstone still wet with my tears. She didn’t deserve this of the duke. He had failed her, pledging promises he could not keep, driving her to fear a life so bleak that death seemed like the only option. I have never felt hatred towards someone before, but I feel it now. It’s black and hostile; all-consuming. I fear it will stay with me for some time to come.
When I saw the flames from the cemetery, I knew something was wrong. It was only when I got closer to unhealthy ground that I realised what was happening. The first-class hospital was alight and little Gwendoline was inside, where she’d been sent after her mother’s death to be cared for by the wet nurse.
The hospital was already engulfed when I arrived. People flooded out of the perimeter as I fought my way in. The doctors and nurses were pouring buckets of water onto the flames, sick troops doing the same, but it was to no avail.
I saw the matron running out of the hospital and down the steps holding two infants, one of them I knew would be Gwendoline. She came to me, told me to take the children. I took them both in my arms and asked her who the other child belonged to. She said it was Lady Eloise, that she was spending time in the ward whilst the duchess fought off another bronchial infection.
I looked at both babies, so alike in features, half-sisters, fathered by the same man. Then the matron held out a gold necklace with a large emerald stone, the exact one I had seen the duchess wear many times.
She told me it had slipped off Lady Eloise. Her eyes flickered between each child as she said it. She hesitated, then she placed the necklace around one of the baby’s necks and ran to help the other patients.
The duke and duchess were upon me. The duchess was screaming ‘give me my baby,’ so I handed over the baby that wore the emerald necklace.
But in all the chaos and with the children so alike, I cannot say for certain which baby was hers.
Rose
Emma finished reading and looked up at Matt, her eyes wide. ‘There was a baby swap.’
‘We don’t know that for certain.’
‘I think we do. Rose was pretty clear about it.’ Emma leant back in her chair. ‘Oh my God, this all makes sense now. The matron put the emerald on the wrong baby. She put it on Gwendoline. Rose then handed Gwendoline to the duchess. The duke and duchess mistakenly took Gwendoline home to England, and Lady Eloise was raised on the station by Rose and Thomas. Lady Eloise is my grandmother, and she was waiting by the wharf all those years ago for her family to come back for her. ’
‘I don’t think we can assume all that.’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ Emma said, the words rushing out of her like rapids. ‘That’s exactly what happened. I know it because Emma isn’t my real birth name. It’s not the name on my certificate. It’s just what people call me.’
Matt was staring at her as if she’d gone mad. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Gwendoline must have known she was Lady Eloise. And my mother, Catherine, must have known, for why else would they call me that name?’
‘What name?’
‘Emerald. My birth name is Emerald.’
Rose
1919
Dawn broke. What should have been a clear and crisp autumn morning burned black with smoke. It spewed into the sky as the fire truck arrived, pumping water onto flames that glowed brighter than the rising sun. The first-class hospital was unsalvageable; a charred ruin.
But it wasn’t the blaze Rose watched. It was the infants she rocked in her arms, one wearing a precious emerald heirloom placed around her neck by Matron Cromwell. The babies’ similarities were extraordinary; both had fair hair and grey eyes, both had gained a little weight since birth. But it was a question she dared not ask herself. Who was wearing the emerald?
Clouded by grief and a night that would be burned in her memory forever—the loss of the first-class hospital—she couldn’t be sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. She stared at them both, stared until it occurred to her, just for a split second, that maybe the matron had made a grave
error. That she’d put the emerald on the wrong child.
‘Give me my baby!’
Rose swivelled and found the duke and duchess rushing upon her, the duchess coughing and wheezing but holding out her hands to take one of the infants. ‘Where’s my child? Where’s Eloise?’
Rose hesitated, unsure what to do.
‘Where’s the emerald?’
‘It’s here,’ Rose said, indicating the stone that sat around the child’s neck.
‘Oh, thank God. She’s okay. And the stone is okay.’ The duchess took the baby into her arms and held her close while throwing the duke a scathing look. ‘I told you I didn’t want Eloise brought to the hospital. I wanted a private wet nurse. We could have lost her.’ She stalked away.
The duke sighed soberly. ‘Thank you, Rose. We are forever in your debt.’
‘It was the matron that brought them out to safety.’
‘Nevertheless, we are eternally grateful.’ He gave the sleeping infant in Rose’s arms a sweeping glance. ‘Is that…?’
‘Yes, it’s Bessie Briar’s child.’
He peered at the baby so closely Rose began to feel uncomfortable beneath his gaze. Could he tell which baby she was holding? Could he distinguish the features between the two? Her insides were screaming at her to say something, to voice her doubts, but what if she was wrong? What if she caused unnecessary panic? Miss Dalton would never forgive her.
The duke righted himself and cleared his throat. ‘I’d heard about the child’s mother. Terrible shame.’
‘Yes. The child has become orphaned.’
He nodded.
Rose clutched his shirt sleeve and looked pleadingly at him. ‘Your Grace, can you not find it in your heart to take Gwendoline with you? She will end up a ward of the state otherwise.’
He hesitated then snatched his arm away. ‘What are you suggesting?’
‘That you take both your daughters with you to Somersby Castle.’
‘How dare you?’
‘Please, Your Grace. She’s a lovely child and Eloise’s half-sister. You can raise them together.’
The duke looked shocked at her impudence. ‘Good God, you have some nerve, Rose.’ He straightened his shoulders and gave the child a dubious look. ‘I don’t know this child nor did I ever know her mother.’
He stormed off after his wife.
The fire could not have come at a worse time. The Hospital Precinct was already overrun with Spanish Influenza cases. Now, with the main hospital a smouldering scar on the hill, there was just the smaller third-class hospital left, overflowing with hundreds of patients, with tents covering every inch of ground space to accommodate the ill.
Two days later, while the station tried to recover from its prodigious loss, Rose climbed the steps to Miss Dalton’s office and knocked on the door.
‘Come in.’
Rose opened the door and stepped inside.
Miss Dalton seemed surprised to see her. ‘Hello, Rose. Take a seat. Is everything all right?’
Rose sat and placed her hands in her lap. ‘I’d like to speak to you about Bessie Briar’s infant.’
‘What about her? Is she unwell?’
‘She’s doing fine. She’s been staying in the wet nurse’s quarters until a permanent solution becomes available.’
‘That’s probably not a bad idea. The third-class hospital is hardly a place for a baby.’ Miss Dalton pursed her lips. ‘And I don’t suppose the duke and duchess plan to take the child with them?’
‘No.’
She nodded grimly. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. I did think Miss Briar was being a tad optimistic with the idea. In any case, thank you for reminding me. I’ll telephone the local church and see if they can come and collect the child tomorrow.’
‘About that,’ Rose said, sitting forward. ‘I have a suggestion.’
Miss Dalton looked up from the note she was writing herself. ‘A suggestion?’
‘Yes. I’d like to keep little Gwendoline here at the station.’
Miss Dalton blinked. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I’d like to keep her here and raise her as my own.’
Miss Dalton laughed. ‘Well, that’s preposterous. We don’t allow children to be raised here. You know that.’
‘I also know that Bessie died to protect her child. That she felt there was no other option than to take her own life because of the pressure this station put her under.’
Rose knew she was speaking out of turn but ever since the hospital fire, she had spent countless hours staring at Gwendoline, studying every line and curve of her face, trying to tell which baby she was. It was remarkable how alike the two were. But without knowing for certain, she couldn’t let this child leave the station.
Miss Dalton’s back stiffened. ‘Careful, Miss Porter. If I didn’t know you any better, I’d assume you were blaming me for Bessie Briar’s suicide.’
‘I apologise, Miss Dalton. I meant no disrespect. But Bessie was a dear friend and a good employee who worked tirelessly here. Her child should not have to suffer for the mistakes made by her parents. Will you sleep well at night knowing you’re going to give a newborn infant away to the state?’
Miss Dalton sighed wearily as though she no longer had the energy to fight. ‘What is it you are asking me exactly?’
‘I want to raise Gwendoline here. I’ll clothe and school her myself. I’ll tend to her when she’s unwell and you can deduct money from my wages for any expenses incurred. I expect no assistance and nothing for free, only your blessing for her to remain on the station.’
‘And where do you propose to raise her? Right under the noses of the other female housekeepers? One whiff of this and they’ll all be falling pregnant. It will catch on quicker than Spanish Flu.’
‘I don’t intend to live with Gwendoline in the female quarters. In fact, I could never go back to that room again. Not since…’ Rose trailed off and looked down at her hands.
Miss Dalton watched her closely. ‘Where will you go?’
‘There’s a cottage out by the cliff behind the male staff quarters. I’ll raise her there.’
‘From what I understand that’s the carpenter’s cottage.’ When Rose didn’t respond, Miss Dalton’s eyebrows went up in disbelief. ‘Oh Rose, not you too.’
‘We’ll share shifts,’ Rose continued. ‘When I’m working, he’ll stay with Gwendoline and when he’s at work, I’ll be with her.’
Miss Dalton shook her head with barely concealed disappointment.
‘And after the duke and duchess leave, I’m going to request a transfer back to the hospital where I can do shift work. We won’t be your problem at all.’
‘Rose, if you and Mr Van Cleeve have engaged in copulation then you have broken the rules too. And that means instant dismissal without pay or references.’
‘But Miss Dalton…’
‘You both have until the end of the day to pack your things and leave. You can take the Briar infant with you.’
‘Please, you’re being unreasonable.’
‘I don’t believe so.’
Rose breathed. ‘I’m sorry I disobeyed you. I am, but can this station afford to lose a scullery maid, a parlourmaid, its only carpenter and the first-class hospital all in a matter of days? Please,’ she begged, ‘give me the chance to prove to you that this can work. That I can raise Gwendoline here and it won’t cause any problems with the other housemaids.’
‘Goodness, Rose, you’re not even married. It’s distasteful.’
‘We intend to be.’
Miss Dalton massaged her forehead with her fingertips. She looked worn from the influenza crisis, from the overflow of passengers and the constant demands of an overrun station. ‘What you are asking of me is monumental. It goes against everything I stand for.’
‘I know.’
‘It could change life on the station as we know it, throw order into chaos. It could start something that there would be no coming back from.’ Miss Dalton sighed. ‘And I just don�
�t know if we’re ready for that.’
The May sun was pale in the sky when Rose stepped out of Miss Dalton’s office an hour later.
Emotionally drained from a lengthy debate, she walked down Main Axial Road, past children playing quoits and the chatter of women in the sewing room. She passed the kitchen where parlourmaids were carrying trolleys of plates and cups from the dining room after lunch service.
Out of habit Rose stopped, poked her head through the doorway and trained her gaze on the sinks to say hello to the bubbly, plump girl who normally stood there, elbows deep in greasy water and with a head full of golden curls beneath her bonnet. But then she remembered with a jolt of despair, like she was learning it for the first time, that Bessie was gone.
At the top of the hill, she wiped fresh tears from her cheeks and turned away from first class, heading towards the Hospital Precinct. Outside the morgue she ran into Thomas. She was so relieved to see him she had to fight the impulse to throw her arms around him.
‘How did your meeting go with Miss Dalton?’ he asked.
‘I thought she was going to have us both fired. It took some convincing, but she’s going to let us trial it for a month.’
‘You mean we’re allowed to stay? With Gwendoline?’
‘Yes.’ Rose couldn’t wipe the grin from her face.
‘That’s incredible,’ he said, grinning too. ‘But you know if she had asked us to leave, it would have been all right. We would have made it work.’
‘I know. But I’m not ready to leave Alexander yet,’ she said. ‘This is where we belong for now, the four of us.’
‘The four of us,’ he agreed. ‘So your move to my place is official? No more sneaking out at night?’
‘Yes. I’ll collect Gwendoline from the wet nurse tonight and bring her over. But if we are to live together, Miss Dalton has insisted we marry as soon as possible.’
The Quarantine Station Page 34