A Good Woman

by Danielle Steel

  Chapter 13

  Annabelle went back to New York in the first week of September, and left Blanche, William, and several other servants at the Newport house. It was no longer her parents’ house, but her own. She took Thomas back to New York with her, and she was planning to sell all but one of her father’s cars.

  She stayed at Josiah’s apartment, and knew she had to find a house, but she had no idea where to start or how to do it, and she knew Josiah wasn’t coming back soon, if at all. He had said that he and Henry would be gone for many months, or longer, and she had heard nothing from him since he left for Mexico. He had completely abandoned her, and so had everyone else. And Josiah thought he had done it for her own good.

  She went back to work on Ellis Island while she tried to figure out what to do. People were still coming in from Europe, even though the British had mined the Atlantic, and the Germans were still sinking boats. And it was while talking to a French woman one day about her experiences that Annabelle knew what she had to do. It was the only thing she could think of, and it made more sense than staying in New York, and being shunned by everyone she knew. She didn’t care now if she died crossing the Atlantic, or once she was in Europe. In fact, she would have welcomed the release from the fate Josiah had unwittingly condemned her to with the divorce.

  She spoke to several people at Ellis Island about what to do. The doctor she had worked for gave her a letter, as witness to her skills, which she planned to use at a hospital in France. He told her about a hospital that had been set up in an abbey in Asnières-sur-Oise near Paris, staffed only by women. It had been established the year before by a Scotswoman, Dr. Elsie Inglis, who had proposed to do the same in England and had been refused. The French government had welcomed her with open arms, and she had taken over and personally set up the hospital at the abbey, using women’s medical units to staff it, both doctors and nurses, with only a few male physicians, and Annabelle’s doctor friend at Ellis Island had encouraged her to go there, once she told him her plan.

  Elsie Inglis was a forward-thinking woman and suffragette, who had studied medicine at the Edinburgh School of Medicine for Women. She had established her own medical college, and taught at the New Hospital for Women. The physician who had referred Annabelle to her was certain that any medical establishment Inglis set up would be medically sound and impeccably run. She had had the Abbaye de Royaumont up and running by December 1914, after the outbreak of war. And from all the referring doctor had heard, they were doing a great job caring for the wounded soldiers who were being brought to them from field hospitals at the front. Everything Annabelle heard about it told her that it was where she wanted to be, and that more than likely she would be most welcome. She didn’t care if she drove an ambulance or worked in the hospital. Whatever they needed from her, she was more than willing to do.

  She had no reason to stay in the States now. She had no home, no relatives, no husband, and even her best friend had said she couldn’t see her anymore. Her parents’ friends and Josiah’s would be even more shocked. And since he had left the city, everyone assumed that she had broken his heart. She had been disgraced in every possible way, and no one would ever know the truth of what had happened. She had absolutely no reason to stay and every possible reason to leave.

  Annabelle spent the next several days packing up everything she wanted to send to storage, and getting a new passport, since she hadn’t traveled in six years, since she was sixteen. She booked passage on the Saxonia going to France, and bought some sturdy clothes to wear once she got there. She had no need for frills or elegance anymore, and left all her jewelry and her mother’s in a vault at her father’s bank, and made the financial arrangements she’d need in Europe. She told no one what she was doing, and at the end of September she went back to Newport to say good-bye to Blanche, and the rest of the staff. There were five of them in the house for the winter, to take care of it and tend the grounds. It was enough, given the size of the cottage, but not too many. She told Blanche what she was doing and that she might not be back for a long time.

  The old woman cried at everything that had happened, and bemoaned her young mistress’s fate, and the terrible things that might befall her in France. They all realized that she might not survive the trip over, given the minefields and the German submarines lurking at sea. Blanche was well aware that Annabelle didn’t care. She had nothing to lose and no one to live for. And at least at the front she might serve some purpose. She was taking all of her medical books with her, thinking that she might need them, and when she left Newport again two days later, they all cried as they waved good-bye, wondering if they’d ever see her again.

  Once back in New York, Annabelle went to say good-bye to the doctors and nurses she had worked with at Ellis Island, and some of her favorite long-term patients, especially the children. Everyone was sorry to see her go, and she didn’t explain why. She told the head doctor she would be volunteering at a field hospital in France. It broke her heart to say good-bye.

  All of her belongings from Josiah’s had gone to storage by then, and all she had left were the suitcases she was taking with her and what was in them, the rough clothes she had purchased for the trip, and several warm jackets and coats. She had managed to fit everything into three large valises, and she was planning to stay in her cabin on the ship, so she brought no evening clothes with her. She had taken out her passport and booked passage in her own name and not Josiah’s, and on her last day in New York she went for a long walk, past her parents’ house. It was the only thing left for her to say good-bye to. She stood there for a long moment, thinking of all that she had lost, and as she did, she saw one of their old neighbors get out of his car, notice her, and give her an evil look. He turned his back on her without greeting her, walked up the steps to his own home, and firmly shut the door. As she walked back to Josiah’s apartment, thinking about it, all it did was strengthen her resolve. She had nothing left in New York anymore.

  Thomas drove Annabelle to the Cunard dock the next morning, in time to get her three meager suitcases on board. The Saxonia was a large fifteen-year-old ship built for passengers and cargo, with four towering masts and a tall funnel. She was built for size and not speed, and would be traveling across the Atlantic at fifteen knots. She was not luxurious, but comfortable, and a moneymaker for the line because of the cargo, which reduced the passenger area considerably. And first class had been eliminated entirely since the outbreak of the war. She was by no means as prestigious as the other ships Annabelle had previously traveled on with her parents, but she didn’t care, and had booked one of the larger staterooms in second class.

  Two young sailors escorted them to her cabin, and Thomas gave her a warm hug when he said good-bye. He was going to put her father’s car up on blocks in a rented garage, and the bank had been instructed to sell it. Thomas was already looking for another job, since Annabelle had no idea when she’d be coming back.

  He was still standing on the dock, waving at her, as the ship slowly pulled away from its moorings half an hour later. People on deck were looking serious, knowing the risks they were taking in braving the Atlantic. Those who were going had good reason to do so. No one traveled these waters for pleasure anymore. It was far too dangerous with all of Europe at war.

  Annabelle stayed on deck until the Statue of Liberty glided past. She saw Ellis Island and felt her heart ache, and then she went back to her cabin. She took out one of her medical books and began to read it, trying not to think of what would happen if they were torpedoed. It was the first ocean voyage she had taken since her father and brother had gone down on the Titanic, and she was tense as she listened to the ship groaning, wondering how close to American waters the submarines might be and if they would attack them. Everyone on the ship was having the same thoughts.

  She dined alone in her stateroom, and lay wide awake in her bunk that night, wondering if they’d arrive safely, and what she would encounter when she got to France. She was planning to make her
way to the area where she’d been told her services would be most needed. With America not participating in the war in Europe, there had been no way for Annabelle to volunteer from the States, although she knew her Astor cousins had financed a field hospital and one of her Vanderbilt cousins had volunteered. But after news of the divorce had spread, she didn’t dare to contact them. She was going to find her own way when she got to France. She had to figure it out there.

  Once at the hospital that was her destination, she would do whatever they assigned her. She was willing to undertake the most menial tasks, but from all she’d heard, the trenches were full to overflowing, and the hospitals even more so, with wounded. She felt certain that someone would put her to work, if they managed to survive the trip over.

  She had learned a great deal from the doctors and nurses at Ellis Island and was continuing to study her medical books every day. And even if all they let her do was drive an ambulance, at least she knew she would be of greater use than hiding in New York from the gazes of an entire world of once-familiar people from whom she was now excluded.

  Although Josiah had meant well, now all her respectability, reputation, propriety, and ability to make a new life had been destroyed by the divorce. He didn’t understand. It was like being convicted of a crime, for which she would never be pardoned. Her sentence would be forever, her guilt a certainty to all. And under no circumstances would she ever divulge Josiah’s secret. She loved him too much to do so, and what he was hiding was even more shocking than their divorce. The revelation of his longtime love affair with Henry, and the syphilis they now shared would have completely decimated his life. She couldn’t do that to him. She still loved him. His secret would die with her. And without meaning to, he had sacrificed her.

  It was a relief to be going to France, where no one knew her. At first, she didn’t know whether to say that she was a widow, or had never been married. But if anyone knew Josiah, which was possible even in Europe, they would know that he was alive, and she was a liar, to add to the rest. Eventually she decided that she was going to say that she had never been married. It was simpler that way in case she met anyone who knew him. She was Annabelle Worthington again, as though the two years with Josiah had never happened, although they had and she had come to love him deeply. Enough to forgive him for the frailties he couldn’t help, and the illness that would ultimately kill him.

  Perhaps, she thought to herself, as the ship rolled gently the first night, she would be killed in France, and she wouldn’t have to suffer another loss or bereavement. She knew that even after her divorce, when he died, it would break her heart again. All she had wanted was a life with him, a happy marriage, and to bear his children. Hortie didn’t know how lucky she was to have a normal husband, and all her babies. And now Annabelle no longer had her either. She’d been shunned and abandoned by all. Hortie’s rejection of her cut her the most deeply after Josiah’s. And what it all meant to Annabelle was that, as the Saxonia made its way cautiously through the Atlantic to France, she was absolutely, totally alone in the world. It was a terrifying thought for a young woman who had been protected all her life, first by her family and then by her husband. And now all of them were gone, along with her good name and reputation. She would be branded as an adulteress forever. As she thought of it again, tears slid from her eyes onto her pillow.

  The ship ran into no problems that night. They had doubled all the watches in order to watch for mines. There was no telling where they might turn up, or how close to land the German submarines would dare to come. There had been a lifeboat drill within the hour they left the dock. Everyone knew where their lifeboat station was, and their life jackets were hanging in plain sight in the cabins. In peacetime the life vests were stowed more discreetly, but since the sinking of the Lusitania in May, the Cunard Line wasn’t taking any chances. Every possible safety precaution was being observed, but that only heightened the atmosphere of tension on the trip.

  Annabelle spoke to no one. She had looked at the list of passengers, and saw that there were two acquaintances of her parents on board. Given the tidal wave of scandal her divorce from Josiah had caused in New York, she had absolutely no desire to see them, and risk getting snubbed by them, or worse. She preferred to stay in her cabin for most of the day, and go out for a solitary walk around deck at nightfall, when everyone else was changing for dinner. And she dined alone every night in her stateroom. In spite of the books she had brought along for distraction, her father and brother’s deaths on the Titanic were much on her mind. And the stories from the sinking of the Lusitania had been almost worse. She was tense and anxious much of the time, and barely slept, but she got a lot of studying done during her long waking hours.

  The stewardess who took care of her rooms tried to no avail to urge her to go to the dining room for dinner. And the captain had invited her to dinner at his table on the second night out. It was an honor most passengers would have leaped at, but she sent him a polite note and declined, saying she wasn’t well. The seas had been a little rough that day, so it was believable if she had been a poor sailor, which she wasn’t. She felt fine the entire way.

  The steward and stewardess assigned to her wondered if she was recovering from a loss of some kind. She was beautiful and young, but so solemn, and they noted the black she was still wearing in mourning for her mother. They wondered if she was a widow, or had lost a child. It was clear that something had happened to her. She seemed like a tragic, romantic figure as she watched the sunset during her late afternoon walks. She stood looking out to sea, thinking of Josiah, and wondered if she would ever see him again. She tried not to think of Henry, and not to hate him.

  Often, when she came back to her stateroom, which comprised both a large sitting room and a bedroom, she looked as though she had been crying. She often wore a veil to hide her face, which was even more shielded by big hats. She had no desire to be recognized, or seen. She was disappearing from her world, shedding the shell of protection she had once enjoyed, and the identity that had been an integral part of her all her life. She was stripping herself of all things safe and familiar, to vanish into a life of service at the front. It was all she wanted now.

  It shocked her to realize that other than her parents’ summer cottage in Newport, she didn’t even have a home. Almost everything she owned was in storage, and the rest of it was in her three bags, all of which she could carry herself. She hadn’t brought a single trunk, which was most unusual, the stewardess had commented to the purser, for a woman of her quality. Even without the trappings of furs or jewels or evening gowns, just from her speech and bearing, gentle manner, and poise, it was easy to see that Annabelle was well born. And seeing the look of sorrow in her eyes every day, the young stewardess felt sorry for her. They were nearly the same age, and Annabelle was always kind to her.

  On the fourth day out, as they drew closer to Europe, the ship slowed to a startling crawl. They were hardly moving in the water, but the captain of the watch had seen something suspicious, and was concerned that there might be a U-boat nearby. All the passengers were worried, and some were wearing their life vests, although no alarm had sounded. For the first time Annabelle came out in broad daylight herself to see what was going on. One of the officers explained it quietly to her when she asked, and was struck by her beauty, concealed behind her hat and veil. He wondered if she was a famous actress, traveling incognito, or someone well known. She was wearing a well-tailored black suit, and when she took one of her gloves off, he noticed her graceful hands. He reassured her, and staying well away from clusters of people talking or sitting in small groups playing cards, she took a brief walk around the ship, and then went back to her room.

  The young officer knocked on her door later that afternoon, and she opened it looking surprised. She had a book in her hand, and her long blond hair was spilling over her shoulders. She looked like a young girl, and he was even more startled by how pretty she was. She had taken off her suit jacket and was wearing a black blou
se and long black skirt. Like the stewardess, he suspected she was a young widow, but he had no idea why she was going to Europe. He said he had come to make sure that she was all right, since she’d been concerned earlier that day, and they were still moving at a slow speed. She assured him with a shy smile that she was fine. He glanced down to see what she was reading and was surprised to see what it was. It was a medical book by Dr. Rudolph Virchow, and there were three by Dr. Louis Pasteur and Dr. Claude Bernard, the medical authorities of the time, on a table behind her. They were her bibles.

  “Are you studying medicine?” he asked, visibly amazed. It was an unusual book for a woman to be reading, and he wondered if she was a nurse. It seemed unlikely given her obvious station in life.

  “Yes…no…well, not really,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I just enjoy reading medical books. It’s sort of a passion of mine.”

  “My brother is a doctor,” he said proudly. “He’s the smart one. My mother is a nurse.” He lingered, looking for excuses to talk to her. There was something so mysterious about her, and he couldn’t help wondering what was taking her to France. Perhaps she had family there. These days, there were fewer and fewer women doing crossings on the ships. “If there’s anything I can do for you, Miss Worthington, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” She nodded, shocked to hear herself called that for the first time in two years. She wasn’t used to it yet. It was like reverting to childhood and traveling back in time. She had been so proud of being Mrs. Millbank. It made her sad to be Worthington again, as though she didn’t deserve Josiah’s name. They had agreed that she would take back her own. He could have petitioned the court for her to keep his, but they both thought it was best if she didn’t. It was easier to start with a clean slate now with her own name, but she still missed his.