A HAZARD OF HEARTS

by Frances Burke

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Elly picked up the ragged conglomeration of native flowers, the bushy cream and red callistemon foaming wildly over her hands and dropping fine hairs on the desk. She’d read the attached note from Paul Gascoigne asking her to accompany him to a political rally, then smiled and shaken her head. The night at the Earl Grey Tavern had been fascinating, and at the time she had wanted to repeat it. Now, after consideration, she knew she could not allow herself to be drawn into Paul’s world. She was far too busy with her own. And when he wished, he could be far too engaging for her comfort. She couldn’t afford the distraction.

  Inspecting the second offering, a magnificent arrangement of cultivated blooms, roses, delphiniums plus a dozen others, she was almost overpowered by their scent. She detached the note from its ribbon to find a quite different sort of invitation to dine and attend a concert with the man she now knew as the Hon. D’Arcy Lynton Cornwallis, son of Baron Gosselin of Gosselin Milton, Herts., and a rising power in the Colony.

  Jo-Beth knocked and entered the office. ‘Matron, can you help me? Nurse Irvine has gone down to the dispensary, leaving me to watch the ward.’

  With a sigh, Elly replaced the flowers on the table. She couldn’t expect Jo-Beth to like the responsibility of the ward, untrained as she was and, as Elly knew, finding the work distasteful. Yet she did try to hide her lack of enthusiasm, showing compassion to their charges, never shirking when asked to help. She had also become the closest thing to a friend Elly had ever known. Jo-Beth, discarding formality, had insisted on bringing her together with Pearl to form a triune of self-support amongst the warring elements in the hospital, and Elly had happily released a small part of her burden into the care of two people she could trust. She put aside the knowledge that the relationship must be brief. Pearl would leave as soon as she could, while Jo-Beth… Who knew what she would do, or when?

  Elly asked, ‘Is someone ill, or simply giving trouble?’

  ‘Neither. Mrs. Porrett, the heavy woman with heart disease has slipped down flat on the cot and her breathing is impeded. I need help to raise her.’

  To Elly’s ears, Jo-Beth sounded brighter, as though the mist of sadness surrounding her had begun to dissipate. Was she finding acceptance at last?

  Jo-Beth noticed the flowers and her expression took on some of its old mischievousness. ‘Well, how favoured you are, to be sure, girl dear – as J.G. would say. Just which gentlemen are battering at the doors of your heart with floral tributes?’

  Elly laughed. ‘None. Don’t be ridiculous.’ She pushed the flowers aside and left the office, Jo-Beth following. Together they heaved the distressed patient up onto her pillows, setting a bolster at her feet so she couldn’t slip down again, then moved on to check a new admission.

  The careworn face of the woman hovering over the cot lit up as they approached.

  ‘Oh, now my little Lilly will be put right. I heard as how the new nurses at the hospital were curing folk like magic. You’ll fix up my Lilly, won’t you?’

  Elly stooped over the little girl whose body was racked by constant coughing, each breath drawn with a distinctive whooping sound. The soft brown hair was matted with sweat and her terrified expression wrung Elly’s heart. With one hand gentling the child’s cheek, she took the pulse, while Jo-Beth spoke to the mother, extracting such details as the child’s age, background and the treatment already tried.

  ‘She’s just turned three and she’s not been right since she watched her Daddy die a month back with the lock jaw.’ The woman’s eyes dulled in remembrance. ‘It were a cruel way to go, with the awful pain and the convulsions. We broke his front tooth and all, to put a straw through to feed him some good broth, but it were no manner of use.’

  Jo-Beth explained that Lilly’s illness could not be attributed to this terrible experience. ‘Has Lilly been near other sick children?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, yes. My neighbour what come in to help had her three young’uns sicken with the cough. One died only last week.’ She looked frightened. ‘‘Tis the hooping cough, isn’t it?’

  Elly glanced up. ‘I’m afraid so. Lilly is very ill, Mrs...?’

  ‘Smith. Is she going to die? You won’t let her die?’ She clutched at Elly, who sat her down on the end of the cot.

  ‘Tell me what you’ve done to help her, Mrs Smith.’

  ‘Oh, all the things. The minute she were born I had her passed under the belly of a donkey nine times; then when she started in to be sick I walked along the road until I met a stranger riding a piebald horse and asked him what to do, and went home and did it straight off.’

  Elly schooled her feelings, saying gently, ‘What advice did he give?’

  ‘Why, to catch a mouse and fry it and give it her to eat. But the child couldn’t stomach it nohow, so I give it to the other two just in case they was to sicken, like my Lilly.’

  Elly refused to meet Jo-Beth’s eye. ‘Did you try any other remedy, Mrs Smith?’

  ‘What else is there?’ The woman looked at her helplessly. ‘The Doctor here said to keep her warm and he’d send up a medicine for her, which the other nurse give her, but most of it spilled out of her mouth.’ She began to sob.

  Elly helped her to her feet. ‘Mrs Smith, there are things we can do for Lilly, but I think you should go home now and tend your family. Lilly will be well cared-for here, and you may visit her tomorrow.’

  An order went down to the dispensary for a mixture of garlic, milk and honey to be made up, while Jo-Beth helped Elly to strip and sponge bathe the child to make her more comfortable, all the while soothing and promising she would soon feel better.

  Jo-Beth’s low-voiced comments on the mother’s ‘treatments’ were lightly turned off by Elly, long accustomed to the superstition masked as medical lore in many homes.

  ‘She did the best she could. Yet we may do better.’

  ‘I’m certain of it.’ Jo-Beth slid a glance at Elly. ‘To change the subject. About your beautiful flowers, I imagine one bouquet was the gift of Mr Paul Gascoigne? I certainly haven’t imagined his twice-weekly visits to his friend, Mrs Wynham, via your office. Which do you suppose is the greater attraction?’ A note of envy sounded clearly beneath her teasing.

  How long was it since anyone had sent Jo-Beth flowers, or acknowledged her as an attractive young woman? Elly wondered. She must miss such attention, however much she tried to fit into this new, harsh environment.

  Elly said composedly, ‘It can’t be me. I’m never available to see him for more than two minutes, to give a report on his protégées – a report which is becoming increasingly gloomy, I’m sad to say. That baby is so frail and she coughs all night through. I fear she won’t reach her third birthday.’ Elly lifted Lilly up to support her through a spasm of coughing, and slipped a clean shift over her head. Although the child remained unresponsive, Elly continued to reassure her, promising to bring her mother back to her in the morning.

  Jo-Beth’s mind had remained on the Wynham baby. ‘It’s her lungs, I suppose? And her mother not much better. What’s to become of the other children if she never leaves here alive?’

  Elly shrugged to cover her distress. ‘They’re in care at the Benevolent Asylum at the moment. I suppose the people there will arrange something – perhaps send them to the new orphanage at Ormond House. Sometimes I feel so helpless, Jo-Beth. I wonder whether we make any difference at all. There were thirty cases of consumption admitted this month, nineteen of whom have died. The figures for syphilis are worse.’

  ‘Of course you make a difference. Think how many would have died without proper attention. Think of the suffering relieved. It’s unlike you to be despondent, Elly. Don’t tell me you’re about to sicken with some ailment.’ Jo-Beth took the bowl brought up from the dispensary by a new trainee, Mary Malone, a fresh-faced girl with intelligence in her round brown eyes and concern for the exhausted child. Then, with Elly holding the little girl against her shoulder, she began spooning the mixture into the child’s mouth
.

  Lilly swallowed obediently, her gaze now fixed on Elly, her formerly passive fingers clutching Elly’s.

  Turning to the trainee, Malone, Elly said, ‘You may assist in the dispensary while I’m on the ward, but return in thirty minutes’ time.’

  The girl bobbed then left.

  Elly found Jo-Beth surveying her quizzically.

  ‘Now, tell me Matron, what of the second sumptuous floral arrangement that would not disgrace the salon of Government House?’

  Elly looked self-conscious, and Jo-Beth pounced.

  ‘Aha, it came from your white knight, your champion on the Board of Directors. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes, although I don’t know why it makes me so uncomfortable. After all, it’s merely an invitation to dine and hear Toccarini sing. His name is Cornwallis, The Hon. D’Arcy Cornwallis.’

  Jo-Beth dropped her teasing tone. ‘You will go, Elly? It’s time to remember that you are a young, attractive woman, as well as an Acting Matron.’

  Elly nodded at the bowl. ‘See if the child will take more.’

  ‘Elly?’ Jo-Beth insinuated another spoonful of mixture between Lilly’s slackened lips. She seemed to be half-asleep, except when racked by another spasm of coughing.

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ Elly wiped Lilly’s mouth and gave her a sip of water.

  ‘Why ever not? If he’s the Cornwallis I’ve heard spoken of he’s gentlemanly, cultivated, personable, and could have his choice of all the unattached ladies in the Colony. Yet he’s interested in you.’

  ‘Perhaps I don’t wish to be added to a list of conquests.’

  ‘I think it’s more like fear. You see yourself as a country girl, too homespun for the likes of the Hon. D’Arcy Cornwallis, without conversation, without the allure he expects in his women companions. Well I can tell you you’re wrong. Men like him seek below the conventionally lovely surface for intelligence and wit, and the charm conferred by these. You have them in abundance, Elly Ballard, plus the loveliness, as it happens.’

  ‘Goodness! You’ve kissed the Blarney Stone, or else you’ve taken lessons from that rascally J.G.’ Elly laid the sleeping child down and covered her warmly. ‘I don’t know, Jo-Beth. It would be such an effort.’

  ‘You must make the effort. Drag yourself up from the rut you’ve laboured in for months and take a peep at the outside world, if for no other reason than it will bind Cornwallis to you as an ally on the Board. Come along now. Write the gentleman a polite note of acceptance. I’ll post it for you. I’ve a letter of my own to send.’

  Elly’s interest awakened. ‘Captain McAndrews? I heard you had a follower in a red coat.’

  ‘Hardly a follower.’ For a moment, sadness veiled Jo-Beth’s vivid features. Then a smile broke through and she tilted her head cheekily.

  ‘Well, a discreet admirer, then,’ Elly amended. ‘Has he invited you out?’

  Jo-Beth primmed up her mouth. ‘Oh, dear me, yes. Having daringly attended divine service together at St. Phillip’s Church, we actually ventured a drive in an open carriage through the Government Domain to admire the flower beds. I scarcely dare tell you of the delights in store next week.’

  ‘Let me guess. Bathing at Woolloomooloo baths, perhaps?’ Elly looked demure.

  ‘How can you be so improper? No, we are to join a picnic party to the oyster-beds out in the bay.’

  ‘Where you will gorge yourselves and have a perfectly lovely day. I’m so glad you’ve found a companion, Jo-Beth. You must live in the present, not the past, however much it pulls at you. Will you introduce me to your Captain when opportunity arises?’

  ‘Of course. If you will make me known to the great business entrepreneur, after he has wined and dined you. Do go, Elly. There can be no harm in it.’

  Elly stood up. ‘Very well, I shall go, if only for the pleasure of a meal which has not been scorched in our depressing kitchen. Meanwhile, you, Nurse Assistant Loring, may find me two jars for my ‘sumptuous’ arrangements. We’ll put them in the wards and see whether they cheer our patients.’

  ~*~

  One of Elly’s particular joys was midwifery. Helping new life into the world made such a change from disease and death, and she eagerly emulated the Viennese doctor, Semmelweis, whose mothers and babies thrived while in other hospitals the fatality rate expanded at a horrifying rate. To this end she scalded or chemically cleaned any item likely to come into contact with her mothers. Also, while barred by the Board’s orders from actively persuading attending doctors to wash in chloride of lime, she always had this ready, and some did use it. Nor was she above locking the mortuary and losing the key on days when women expected to deliver, thus preventing doctors from dissecting cadavers before examining the mothers.

  Soon word spread through the community that mothers in her care had a far greater chance of leaving the hospital in good health and with a living child. Women who were neither poor nor indigent, some of whom had lost several children in home births, queried the possibility of lying in at the Infirmary, thereby causing some embarrassment to Elly, plus a good deal of indignation on the part of the divisional doctors. Eventually the Board agreed to let her accompany divisional doctors to private homes, upon request and upon payment of a fee to the hospital.

  This added to Elly’s workload, yet gave her an opportunity to see how the upper echelons of the colony lived. She also learned how nursing generally was regarded – as a lowly living unsuited to any woman with pretensions to gentility.

  Meanwhile she continued to worry about Mrs Wynham’s baby. She’d called on Doctor Houston’s expertise and he’d responded with all his knowledge and experience, but the child was clearly failing. Added to this worry was Paul Gascoigne’s accusatory attitude. She couldn’t understand it, when the staff had done their utmost for the child.

  She caught him on the hospital steps one afternoon after visiting hours and insisted on explaining to him each part of the treatment, adding an assurance that his protegees were receiving the best available care.

  Yet he was bitter. ‘You’ve stated often enough how poorly the system operates in this hospital,’ he said. ‘Why should I believe it’s changed merely because you say so?’

  His words hurt, yet Elly would not retaliate. For some reason he cared deeply about this family and their lack of progress. ‘You don’t have to take my word for it,’ she said. ‘Just ask Mrs Wynham. Both Pearl and I have sat up at night with little Anne, trying to ease her struggles, yet the baby can’t thrive. I believe her lungs were defective from birth. Such children never live long.’

  Paul turned away. ‘I’m sorry. I expect too much of you. Yet it’s so unjust.’

  Elly sighed. ‘If you’re thinking Anne would have had better care if she’d come from a rich family, you’re wrong. The district physician would have called at her home and she’d have lain in a silken cot, but the treatment would have been the same – and the end. I’m terribly sorry, but the baby will soon die. You’ll have to accept it, along with her mother.’

  He faced her again, meeting her gaze. ‘You must wonder at my interest in this family. I... It’s awkward to explain. You’re partly responsible, you know.’

  ‘I?’

  ‘It was something you said to me, about men fighting for their rights while their women and children died for lack of proper health care.’

  ‘I remember.’

  He shrugged. ‘It clung in my memory. Then one night Sophy Wynham stopped me in the street, tried to beg money from me. When I would have brushed her aside, she offered herself to me. Her actual words were... “For God’s sake, don’t refuse me, sir. My children must eat. I’ll do anything you want. Just give me a trial.” Then she put on this travesty of a smile and thrust out her bosom, and collapsed on the paving stones.’

  ‘What then?’ Elly was fascinated by this new aspect of the chauvinist Paul.

  ‘I gave her a meal and escorted her home. My God, what a place. That whole Rocks area should be razed and rebuilt. I give you m
y word, I walked with my head swivelling on my shoulders, longing for a pistol. I doubt if my boots will ever be truly clean again. When I saw the conditions her children live in I wanted to slap poor Sophy.’

  ‘You blamed her for the men who ran off and left her.’

  ‘I did, and I’m ashamed of it. It didn’t take me long to realise what little choice she’d had. Thrown on the street as a child, she’d survived as best she could, and, in the natural course of things falling victim to the predators. Do you know she’s only twenty years old?’

  Elly caught her breath. Twenty, and the girl appeared forty if a day. She said, ‘So you decided to help her.’

  There was no sign of his half-smile and his voice had deepened to a growl. ‘Someone had to. They were all near starvation. I found laundry work for Sophy where she could have her baby with her, and I kept an eye on them. Then she and the babe fell ill, so I brought them here, to you.’

  ‘So now you feel I’ve failed them.’

  ‘No. I shouldn’t have blamed you. I apologise.’

  ‘What other reason did you have for championing the Wynhams? You said I was only partly responsible.’

  Paul walked to the foot of the steps and stood with his back to her, hands in pockets, his shoulders hunched. He said bleakly, ‘Poverty and malnutrition cost me my whole family, through no fault of my parents, I might add, except for my father’s too easy trust in the word of a ‘gentleman’. He was a proud man, John Gascoigne, giving others credit for the same honesty of character as his own. When that trust was betrayed, he found himself transported for a crime he could never commit. I left school and went into the mills, but could not earn enough to feed us.

  ‘Then Mother decided we must go to Australia and try to be near my father. Without money for fares, we sailed steerage. I shan’t detail that particular circle of hell, only say that the conditions were such that when typhoid swept through the ship Mother, weakened by grief and lack of decent food, died, along with the babe she carried. My sister followed within the week, leaving me to bring the news to an already broken man. He... was killed soon after. I became self-supporting at fourteen. There’s little I don’t know about street life and the struggles of the poor.’ He turned to Elly. ‘So those are my reasons for standing by Sophy and her children - a mixture of quixotry, shame and childhood memory.’ He sketched a bow, rammed his hat on and left swiftly.