Most of Offley’s family welcomed the new addition: his father and Caroline grew close and exchanged affectionate letters. On their arrival in England, just weeks after the wedding, they were met at Southampton by letters from Offley’s father, his Aunt Caroline Stovin, and from Florence and Urith. Offley Shore senior travelled to London to meet the newly-weds at Paddington Station, and Caroline Stovin arranged a lunch the next day at her house in Connaught Square so that Offley’s wife could meet the family. Offley senior and his brother Harrington Shore were there; and Florence travelled down specially from Sunderland to meet her new sister-in-law. The new bride described the reception in a letter to her uncle:
‘… the beautiful plate – the exquisite old French chandeliers filled with candles – the pretty soft light – the dear old aunt with her beautiful lace and exquisite old family diamonds – the counterpart of my own dearest Aunt, Offley’s sisters so pleased and proud of us …the dignified old servants – the beautiful plate – the most special pieces out for the occasion … and after it was all over the quiet intimate family chat – and their great pride in me – and Offley’s.’
Offley’s mother Anna Maria, however, was not amongst the party. She had made it clear in letters to Caroline that she did not approve of the match. According to a letter from one her friends, who eventually helped to reconcile her to the match, she had hoped for a royal marriage, or at least marriage to a Duke’s daughter, for her son. ‘She is delightful’, the friend wrote to Caroline of her mother-in-law, ‘but very autocratic and high tempered – but adores Offley to madness.’ The ‘Spartan Mother’ Offley had described years before was still disappointing her son. He and Caroline remained estranged for five years because of her refusal to accept his choice of wife.
Yet it was a loving and successful marriage, documented in hundreds of letters between them, and to family members, throughout Offley’s army service back in India and in Russia, and later in the first World War. When Offley had an operation in India in 1909, and Caroline went to visit him, she wrote that ‘I was allowed to go to him and found him just coming out of ether – not ill – but a little vague and big tears rolling down his cheeks which he told me afterwards were because he could not remember where I was.’
Offley’s letters also repeatedly show his devotion, affection and admiration for his wife. In one, he recounts to his father-in-law how his wife dealt with the formidable Lord Kitchener:
‘The little lady, having got into touch with the Mintos and conquered them with ridiculous ease, attached a few ‘members of Council’ (equals Ministers) to her train and a handful of Generals with scarcely an elevation of the Supercilious Eyebrow, still looked around for the most difficult old Tiger in the Jungle, to wit Lord Kitchener … Well, last night we were at the Maneater’s Den, at last!! And despite the fact of our being very little people who had just permission to breathe in a retired corner, this young daughter of yours sidled up to the Man of Cross Green Eyes and gazing up into his ugly face about four feet above her, babbled sweetly to him in French about Art and lispingly plastered him with flattery! … The little lady played it so well that Tiger-ji capitulated after some preliminary growls and suspicious glaring into the simple and childlike one’s entrancing face and finally, contrary to all prognostications, consented to be fed one day soon, in our humble abode.’
Caroline’s letters to her family record her growing acquaintance with the Shore family over the years, and her relationship with her sisters-in-law, Florence and Urith. In 1909, when they were preparing to leave England for India again, Caroline wrote that they had given up the idea of taking a maid with them, but had invited Urith to go with them as their guest (though at her own travelling expense) for six months. Urith did not take up the invitation, but relations were still cordial, and Florence and Urith were both in the party that saw Caroline off to be presented at Court in February.
While Offley and Caroline were away in India, Florence wrote regularly to Caroline, keeping her informed about old Offley Shore’s health. Offley was also still writing to his son in India, sometimes dictating his letters to his nurse. Caroline wrote that her husband was ‘so saddened by the sufferings of his ‘devoted companion and best friend’ as he calls his Father from whom, with the sad vicissitudes in their lives, he has been so much separated.’ Offley Shore’s final letter to his son, which arrived in India after news of his death had been cabled, is testimony to the warmth of their relationship. After congratulating his son on his promotion to Full Colonel, and some comments about the political situation regarding India, Offley finishes his letter:
‘Poor Ena passed away on Friday night (24th) after having been tapped in the chest 3 times in so many weeks but I believe she had pneumonia at the last. All we old ones must go and are going. I was nearly bowled over this last week by a dog – and found that my heart is as weak as possible still!’
He signs the letter ‘The very attached old Gov.’
Caroline wrote after old Offley’s death that her husband loved his father deeply, and that
‘…they were like two boys. In the last two years since his Father’s health had been broken down entirely Offley had given his father every comfort and it was out of his purse (Offley’s) and the depth of his generosity that the last few years were made peaceful and comparatively happy. He was one of the most delightful of men and devoted to me.’
After their parents’ deaths, Offley and his sisters met occasionally in England as they sorted out the estates. Florence and Offley visited the two nurses who had tended their father during his last years of illness, and visited their father’s grave. Offley went to see his Edinburgh lawyers about his and his sisters’ inheritance – while Caroline complained in her letters about the death duties to be paid. Florence wrote to Caroline’s Aunt Fanny in America to introduce herself, and added:
‘Offley told me how awfully kind you have been to him. I am so glad you like him so much – for he really is a dear boy – and he has worked so hard. It is so nice to see how devoted he and Lina [Caroline] are to each other. I do wish you did not live quite so far away for I should so much like to have the pleasure of meeting you.’
Offley was also hoping to sort out his sisters’ futures before he returned to his army duties in India, and this episode seems to have tried the patience of their sister-in-law Caroline.
‘Offley is very anxious to see his sisters settled together in a house and home above all things before we leave again for India,’ she wrote to her aunt in September 1912. ‘After we did a great deal of hunting about in town they changed their minds and elect to live in the country. I am very fond of them – but they are very trying and would altogether monopolize Offley if they could. I love Florence very dearly and she is sweet and charming and practical and would – I am sure – make a charming home; Urith is a beautiful pianist and very proud of her birth and name and all that sort of thing, and to me – this is to the exclusion of many good things she might have and attain in life if she would only come down a little. I should like her to dinner but not to live with!!!!!! …I have little or no patience with a proud old family maid of 5 and 40 always thinking in castles and family names – ‘Our good name etc etc’ on £500 or £600 a year. Well, I must not criticize them anymore. They had had sad lives and not the love and affection I have grown up with, but I find it very trying to stay clear and you can understand … this comforts me as I would not hurt Offley for the whole world – and he holds me up as a marvellous example to the sisters which is again awkward. With Offley the sun rises and sets in me and with them it rises and sets in Offley!’
What Florence felt about her brother’s attempts to find her a house to live in with her sister, when she was already living and working at the Nurses Home in Sunderland, are not recorded. But in 1913, both Florence’s and Mabel’s long service with the Sunderland District Nursing Association came to an end. Florence resigned from the Institute ‘for home duties’ – in fact, to take her ailing sister Urith abroad
for treatment – and was awarded a Certificate of the Queen’s Institute to mark her service. Mabel retired from her position as Superintendent at Sunderland at the same time.
‘A presentation has been made to the late Superintendent of the Sunderland District Nursing Association, Miss Rogers, on her retirement from a post she has held for fifteen years’, the Queen’s Nurses’ Magazine reported. ‘The present and many of the former nurses joined together to show their appreciation and esteem for Miss Rogers. The presentation consisted of a silver cream jug and sugar basin, a pair of silver candlesticks, and a framed picture, by McWhirter, “Silver Beeches”.’
Mabel was not intending to retire from nursing, however: in October she took up a new post as Superintendent of the Hammersmith and Fulham District Nursing Association based in Carnforth Lodge in London. Here she took over a thriving Association, built up by her predecessor, Miss Curtis, over many years from two nurses to a staff of 10. Miss Curtis had also ‘seen the development of innumerable agencies for helping people to help themselves, and not a few of these owe some part of their utility to her vigorous interest and care’, according to the Queen’s Nurses’ magazine. Minor illness treatment centres had been set up in both Hammersmith and Fulham; new interests and funds had been brought in, patrons cultivated, and the Association established as valued local agency. In fact, Miss Curtis had done in Hammersmith what Mabel Rogers had accomplished in Sunderland; and Mabel would take the Hammersmith and Fulham Association even further forward during her tenure as Superintendent.
What plans she had for the Association were quickly put on hold, however, when war was declared in 1914. Mabel and Florence were about to become Army nurses again.
Chapter 17
‘How deeply and terribly it does concern us’
As soon as war was declared, Queen’s Nurses were determined to get involved. The Queen’s Nurses’ magazine reported enthusiastically that the Queen Victoria Jubilee Institute for Nurses provided
‘a large organisation of trained district nurses [giving] scope for so many and varied branches of work in connection and in cooperation with all agencies which exist for the assistance of the poor in their own homes, [as well as] actual nursing.’
By October 1914, 37 reservists had been called up, and 42 Queen’s Nurses had volunteered for Red Cross work. More than 200 District Nursing Associations up and down the country were helping with Red Cross and St John’s Ambulance work, with the Queen’s Nurse in most instances acting as Lady Superintendent and professional adviser. This work included giving classes in nursing work – bandaging, bed making, splint padding and general ward work – in temporary hospitals. These had been swiftly set up with accommodation ranging from 10 to 500 beds, ready to care for the wounded or convalescent. Their first patients were Belgian refugees and soldiers billeted in the area who fell sick. Queen’s Nurses formed more than a quarter of the staff of the Second Eastern General Hospital, established in Brighton Grammar School with 520 beds in thirty wards. Nurse Tait McKay was acting Matron of the Fourth Southern General Hospital in Plymouth when she wrote to the Queen’s Nurses’ magazine:
‘The business of transforming Salisbury Road Schools and the adjacent Baptist Church into a War Hospital of 520 beds was completed on August 20th and patients were admitted from the adjacent forts… The first batch of 102 wounded warriors arrived from the Front on August 21st, forty of those were stretcher cases, and as soon as news leaked out considerable excitement prevailed … The second batch numbering all 132, including fourteen Germans, arrived on September 25th.’
Another Queen’s Nurse, L. Ethel Nazer wrote about nursing Sikh and Gurkha wounded at Netley:
‘Five out of the last twenty were hand and arm wounds and these walked in; the other fifteen were all heavy stretcher cases; some had six or eight wounds from shrapnel and three were badly frost-bitten; one has since died, another developed tetanus and several amputations have had to be done; all the wounds are horribly septic on arrival but it is surprising how quickly they clean up with regular dressing and attention…’
Other volunteer QNs were taking over district posts from those who had left for war work, or taking the strain of the war’s effect on their communities, as an editorial in the magazine reported:
‘Everywhere Queen’s Nurses are in request for special work, in addition to their own duties, heavily increased as these are and likely to be during the coming winter. For suffering through the war is not confined to our soldiers, and their families, but is felt acutely in unemployment and consequent privation, sickness, and general misery in every corner of the land.’
In fact, so enthusiastic was the response from Queen’s Nurses that the Jubilee Institute soon felt the need to send a circular to all the nurses, reining in their enthusiasm for war work:
‘So many of the Queen’s Nurses have written to the Central Office expressing a wish to volunteer for some service in connection with the War, that the Committee think it well to point out that, in the near future, there is sure to be a great need for trained nurses in the various districts … It is felt that the majority of Queen’s Nurses will be doing a far more useful service to the Nation by devoting themselves to this large and important sphere of work than by taking small individual posts under some Military Authority, where they would in all probability only be filling up the blanks left by those who have been sent abroad or drafted to coast hospitals.’
In spite of this admonition, many QNs did respond to the War Office’s call, and were dispatched to Europe to nurse in field hospitals, casualty stations and ambulance trains. Amongst them were Florence Shore and Mabel Rogers, who both joined the French Red Cross in 1914. The sense of adventure and excitement at the opportunity to put their nursing skills to work in such a patriotic cause is captured by another nursing sister who shared their time in France in that first year of the war. Her anonymous diary records, on 18 August 1914:
‘We had va great send-off in Sackville Street in our motor-bus, and went on board [ship] about 2pm. From then till 7 we watched the embarkation going on, on our own ship and another. We have a lot of R.E. and R.F.A. and A.S.C. and a great many horses and pontoons and ambulance waggons: the horses were very difficult to embark, poor dears. It was an exciting scene all the time. I don’t remember anything quite so thrilling as our start off from Ireland…
We and the officers and the men, severally, had the King’s proclamation read out to us about doing our duty for our country, and God blessing us, and how the King is following our every movement ….
At midday we passed a French cruiser, going the opposite way. They waved and yelled, and we waved and yelled. We are out of sight of English and French coast now. I believe we are to be in early tomorrow morning, and will have a long train journey probably, but nobody knows anything for certain except where we land – Havre.’
In keeping with their collegiate and organised nature, Queen’s Nurses immediately began writing back to the Institute with stories of their experiences. How had these women, trained by the Institute in Victorian and Edwardian England, taught never to bring up religion or politics in conversation, and to make friends with everyone, coped with the experience of a bitter and bloody war? The Queen’s Nurses’ magazine, which in April 1914 had featured an article telling nurses how to make their own knickerbockers to wear when cycling round the district, was soon publishing stories from its readers about nursing wounded soldiers under shell fire.
Mabel Rogers spent the early part of the War in France, before being sent to work at a hospital at La Panne in Belgium. With the customary QN spirit of adventure, she wrote that she was ‘much pleased when I was sent for the remainder of my time to work in Dr Depage’s Ambulance at La Panne for … the hospitals at La Panne lie nearer to the firing line than any institutions of a similar character.’ She also wrote a description of the hospital and her work for the Queen’s Nurses’ magazine:
‘In times of peace a favourite Belgian seaside resort, built like Ostend amongs
t the sand dunes, La Panne has now become the centre of all Belgian activities, and the little seaside villas swarm with Belgian soldiers back from the trenches for a brief respite, or recruits who are daily drilled on the wide far-stretching sands. A number of French aeroplanes are daily scouting overhead, and from time to time English battleships bombard the German batteries at Nieuport and are responded to by German shells which burst in the sea round the ships. Each time the guns are fired the hospital’s windows rattle and the beds shake. At night time on land the firing is often continuous and the whole horizon can be seen from the hospital windows a brilliant blaze of light from Ypres to the sea coast.
The largest of the hotels forms the chief hospital building, containing nearly 200 beds, but in addition three large pavilions have been erected round the hospital capable of accommodating another 700 patients. Unfortunately the largest containing 350 beds, its own theatre, offices etc, was burnt down a fortnight after it was opened through an explosion in the department where it produced its own gas…
Every night the ambulances go out and bring in the wounded straight from the front. Some nights, when the fighting has been unusually heavy in that part, so many arrived that it was difficult to find room to lay them in the large corridors and waiting rooms, and the crowd of suffering and maimed humanity was a sight to excite pity and almost unnerve even the strongest-minded…
The nursing staff consisted of sisters and Red Cross helpers of various nationalities, Belgians trained by Dr Depage in his institute in Brussels, and Danes, English, Americans and Canadians, many sent by the different Red Cross societies as the money belonging to the Belgian Red Cross having been seized by the Germans, the Belgians themselves could not afford to pay their staff.’
The Nightingale Shore Murder Page 14