‘More than likely. Now, girl dear, come into my little sanctum and tell me what brings you here.’ He ushered her through a doorway into a minute cell furnished with a table, a tall cabinet and two chairs that seemed to have survived a kicking with hob-nailed boots. The window overlooked a malodorous lane between buildings, and J.G. hastily pulled down the sash.
Elly subsided into the nearest chair, her ears ringing with the sudden silence. ‘I need your help, J.G. I’ve had a letter from Pearl, written weeks ago, saying she’d found no trace of her brother so she intended to travel overland to the Victorian goldfields. She promised to maintain contact through the Melbourne Post Office. I want you to help me influence her to abandon her search.’
‘Me, influence Pearl!’ J.G.’s brows hit his hairline and his jaw dropped ludicrously. ‘It’s mad you are. The minx is more likely to do the opposite to any advice I might give her. Who was it wanted to feed me bamboo slivers in me dinner?’
‘J.G., we’ve got to do something. I’m afraid she’ll come to harm if she persists with this perilous expedition. She’s lost the childish air that carried her through beforehand as a boy, or haven’t you noticed?’
‘Oh, I’ve noticed.’ J.G.’s expression was as grim as his merry face would allow. ‘Don’t think this crazy notion of hers hasn’t bothered me, but I couldn’t dissuade the girl. She’s hell bent on finding her brother, whatever the cost, however long it takes. She’s about as malleable as the Sphinx, and as conversational on the subject.’
‘Then will you give me any published material on the Victorian diggings for me to send her? Anything emphasising how dangerous it is there, especially for a woman alone?’
‘Indeed I will. What’s more, there are reports of a recent riot against the Chinese, who’re much resented by the other diggers for their industry and just plain foreignness.’
He rummaged in his cabinet, emerging with a sheaf of papers which he handed to Elly.
She scanned them quickly, frowning in consternation. ‘My Heavens, this is terrible. The place is a hell-hole – little food or water, no habitation, no law, and awash with rum. She can’t go there. It’s impossible.’ She let the papers fall. Stooping, she clutched at the table for support, then gathering the papers together, she thrust them into her shopping bag and rose.
J.G. said abruptly, ‘Are you quite well, Elly? You seem tired.’
‘Thank you. I’m well enough. I’ll send off the information immediately and hope that for once Pearl will let herself be influenced by others.’ As she walked out of the building she heard the crash of machinery starting up. The particular hullabaloo and frenzy of a newspaper world had begun again.
After visiting the post office, she finished her shopping then turned wearily for home. The climb back up the hill to Macquarie Street seemed steeper than ever. She took it slowly, drawing on all her energy.
In the hospital lobby Jo-Beth met her with excitement.
‘Elly! Elly! Such a wonderful thing has happened. Oh, how I wish you’d been here.’
Behind Jo-Beth, Dr Houston and two other medical officers came striding up the corridor, their expressions animated, their voices raised as each interrupted the other without apology.
Dr Houston stopped to beam at Elly. ‘Matron, once again you’ve proved yourself to be ahead of us in the matter of patient care. I congratulate you on your foresight. A new era in surgery has dawned.’
Confused, Elly simply stared after him as he bustled off in his usual style, with his confreres in tow. She turned to Jo-Beth. ‘What on earth has happened?’
‘Well, I’d say our revered Board of Directors is about to go down on its collective knees and beg you to assume the mantle of Matron in perpetuity. Come up to the office and I’ll tell you all about it.’
Elly took one step then sank down heavily on the stairs. Her knees had simply given way. She shivered continually, yet was burning up inside.
‘Elly, what is it? Are you unwell?’ Jo-Beth rushed to her.
‘I’m all right, I think. Just let me rest here a moment to catch my breath. That hill is steep. What were you saying about the Board?’
Jo-Beth eyed her uneasily. ‘It’s about the operation performed by Doctor Haynes-Alleyne. You know him. He’s the Liverpool Coroner and highly thought of. And, Elly, he’s amputated a girl’s leg using an anaesthetic, chloroform! She didn’t feel a thing!’
Elly straightened her weary back. ‘At last!’
‘I know. What’s more, he had the staff surgeons there, to observe. They were overwhelmed. You’ve been proved right in the face of their opposition. Ether or chloroform, these inhaled gases will revolutionise surgery in Australia, and you’re the one who foretold it.’
A tear overflowed onto Elly’s cheek.
‘Elly! You’re not crying?’
‘Don’t worry. It’s mere relief, and joy for all the souls who will benefit from this day. Doctor Alleyne’s reputation will force the change.’ She focused beyond Jo-Beth, seeing only a small boy’s face twisted in agonised terror, thinking how he might have been saved.
‘Of course the Board will apologise to you.’
‘I shouldn’t rely on it. An apology is only words. I want to see action. Thanks to Doctor Alleyne, and our personal publicist, J.G., we should get it.’ Elly hunted for her handkerchief to wipe her cheeks. ‘You don’t know what this means to me.’
Jo-Beth seemed mystified at her reaction. ‘I should insist upon an apology, myself. However, your status is clearly much improved. You may even squeeze extra money out of the Board while they’re amenable.’
Elly shook her head. ‘We’ve barely scaled the foothills of our medical Everest. Money is only the first of our needs.’
‘It would be a wonderful start, you must admit. Now, I think you should rest before going back on duty.’
Rest, Elly thought, as she struggled to her feet. What was that? She could sleep for a hundred years. Her head felt like a drifting balloon and her feet were made of stone. Jo-Beth’s face seemed to swim in mist. How strange.
She clutched at the stair rail, hearing her friend’s voice winding away from her down a long tunnel. ‘Elly! Hold up. I’ve got you.’
I’m actually ill, she thought. Oh, my Heavens, what will happen to the hospital now?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The weather had broken and wild storms raged over the town while Elly tossed and burned with fever and ranged through her own private tormented world. Nursed devotedly by Jo-Beth, attended conscientiously by Doctor Houston himself, she sometimes surfaced far enough to recognise them, but only briefly, before dropping back into her inner existence where she was no longer concerned with the operation of the hospital or with anything else beyond her struggle to survive the attack on her exhausted system.
Only much later did she learn of The Empire’s report on the huge surgical breakthrough by Doctor Alleyne, who vainly denied the novelty of anaesthetics or himself as their inventor. She learned, also, of the hospital Board’s decision to appoint her in absentia as full Matron, with increased salary to one hundred pounds per annum, plus voting her a sum of money for the most urgent repairs and equipment.
‘All of which is about as much use to her now as a case of stuffed ornithological specimens,’ Paul said savagely. His voice penetrated the shallow mist of sleep as Elly was emerging into the real world.
Jo-Beth answered him, saying she had an errand but would soon return, and Elly moved her head on the pillow and opened her eyes.
‘Hello, Paul.’ She began to cough.
His broad figure stooped over her to slip an arm under her shoulders and add another pillow. ‘How do you feel, Elly?’
‘Better, thank you.’ Something worried her. What had he said? Oh, yes. ‘We don’t have any space to display them.’
‘Display what?’ Paul looked anxious. Did he think her wits had wandered?
‘The ornithological specimens.’
His half-smile dawned and she heard the relief i
n his voice. ‘It was just a joke. Do you know this is the first time you’ve been lucid since you were struck down three weeks ago?’ He drew the one available chair close to the bed and sat down.
‘Three weeks!’
‘You’ve been extremely ill with a fever. Patients, friends and well-wishers have stormed Heaven with pleas for your recovery, which seem to have been heard.’
Elly flushed with pleasure. She tried to raise her hand to Paul and was astounded to find it so heavy. What had happened to her muscles?
‘Don’t try to do anything yet. Would you like a drink?’
She nodded, letting him assist her to sip from a glass of barley water by the bedside, enjoying his touch as much as the quenching of her thirst. When she lay back her gaze went to the window, black and streaming and buffeted by a wild wind. It was as if only chaos existed outside this tiny peaceful room. An oil lamp stood on the bedside chest, the glass bowl shedding a soft golden glow, and someone had placed a new knitted shawl around her shoulders, her favourite blue of the sky at dawn. She fingered its softness, then glanced back at the window. ‘Is it night-time?’
‘No. It’s not yet four o’clock. The storm has brought early darkness.’
Darkness! What about the patients? Had the lamps been lit? She didn’t trust the trainees with the newly-installed gas fittings. She struggled up, filled with a sudden overwhelming anxiety. ‘The hospital. Who is in charge? What’s happening in the wards? There’s a bad leak in the roof over Number Two and –’
Paul pushed her gently back on the pillow. ‘All’s well in your world, Elly. Jo-Beth is coping, not, perhaps, with much pleasure, but she knows how to command staff. The place is running like well-oiled machinery. And the Committee had the leak mended after the first storm.’ He laughed. ‘You never saw a posse of men so eager to please. They’ve positively searched out defects to repair, even building a bathroom on the back landing. You’re regarded as somewhat of an oracle around here now. J.G.’s panegyric in his paper might have had some bearing on that, plus the consequent public interest.’
‘Oh, dear.’
‘It was tastefully done, I assure you. Also, Haynes-Alleyn’s admiration and approval of your methods did nothing to detract from your reputation. How does it feel to be coupled with a celebrated surgeon?’
‘I’m not. Don’t be silly.’ She moved her head aside.
‘All right. I won’t tease you. I’m the first visitor allowed past the door, but when you feel strong enough, J.G. would like to call.’
‘I’d be glad to see him.’ Her colourless tone had an obvious effect, and he studied her gravely, as if concerned about a relapse. How could he know it was his own friendly, unemotional attitude that upset her, as much as her own inconsistency? Hadn’t they agreed to stifle their passionate involvement newborn, before it could take over their lives? Wasn’t that what she’d wanted and insisted upon?
Paul got up. With a feeling of panic she watched him replace the chair, preparing to leave.
‘I’ve wearied you,’ he said. ‘Rest now and recover your strength. I’ll call again later, by your leave, to see how you do.’
Jo-Beth brought in a pot full of winter roses, placing them on the window ledge where they burned like cream and pink flames against the dark glass. She bustled Paul from the room with a brisk ‘Out with you, sir,’ then hurried back to straighten the counterpane. She felt Elly’s forehead. ‘You’re so much better, my dear, God be thanked.’
‘I feel rather insubstantial, Jo-Beth.’
‘Food will fix you. Did Paul tell you what’s been happening?’
‘Yes, he did. But what about you?’
‘What about me? I’ve never been more energetic. You have no need to worry about me.’ She sounded almost too positive, Elly thought.
‘My stupid illness must have thrown your plans into complete disarray.’
‘Nothing has been decided, as yet. Alan knows I can’t think about myself at present, not with a hospital to be run and you needing me. At first we feared the glandular swelling meant lung disease; however, Doctor Houston is now more inclined to think it a virulent fever associated with the glands.’
‘Thank you for all your care, Jo-Beth. I’m blessed with your friendship. I know it can’t be easy for you.’ Feeling suddenly exhausted, Elly closed her eyes and heard Jo-Beth quietly leave the room, freeing her to think over Paul’s visit, his careful kindness and total lack of lover-like concern.
She turned her face into the pillow, unable to avoid the painful truth – that while Paul had taken up residence in her heart and would not be banished, he, it seemed, had been more successful in ridding himself of her. Had his passion been a momentary flare, rocketing up into the heavens to burst in glory for a few seconds before falling back down to earth? If so, she might as well admit it and bury the ashes of those moments amongst her memories, bearing the pain as well as she could.
~*~
As she grew daily stronger and could dress and sit by the window, the number of visitors increased. She was touched to find small gifts left for her by patients she’d cared for over the past fourteen months. But she felt only embarrassment and annoyance at the cornucopia of fruits and flowers delivered daily with D’Arcy Cornwallis’ card attached. The cards were immediately torn up, the gifts send to the wards, and a disappointed Jo-Beth instructed to keep the sender away, if he should happen to call.
To Elly’s mind, Jo-Beth had descended to the romantically maudlin. Nothing would convince her that the more than eligible D’Arcy Cornwallis should be discouraged, nothing but the relating of a tale Elly would not tell anyone. She twitted Jo-Beth over her change of attitude, then forgot about Cornwallis until she received his letter. This outpouring, beseeching her forgiveness, disgusted her with its hypocrisy. She now knew exactly how Cornwallis regarded her, and had no time for him or his apologies. Banishing him, she concentrated on the exciting news in the daily papers, in particular the details of Britain’s entry into the war against Russia in the Crimea.
It had turned out as Alan McAndrews had predicted. The Tsar, having attacked Turkey in October 1853 and almost destroyed the Turkish fleet, was reportedly astonished to find himself by January at war with Great Britain and France. Together Elly and Jo-Beth read of the carnage and the casualties resulting not only from battle, but from unattended wounds and disease. Then Elly’s unthinking speculation as to Captain McAndrews’ possible involvement provoked an outburst from Jo-Beth, who clearly feared such an event. She stormed off, leaving Elly appalled at her own stupidity, and her weakened nerves in tatters. Paul found her hunched over the windowsill in tears.
‘What is it? Are you in pain?’ He dropped the armful of flowering shrub he carried and rushed over to kneel beside her chair. ‘Tell me, Elly. Shall I fetch someone?’
‘It’s nothing. I’m perfectly well. Oh, go away, please do. I’m making an exhibition of myself and I can’t hel... help it,’ she sobbed, burying her face in her shawl.
Paul hugged her. ‘You’re being emotional, which isn’t any wonder. Convalescents are allowed to shed tears, didn’t you know?’
Elly sniffled and sat up, searching for her handkerchief. His arm around her shoulders felt like a hot brand. She wished he’d remove it.
‘You’re flesh and blood, Elly, not cast iron, despite any notions you may have to the contrary.’ He let her go and stood up. ‘Now, tell me if there’s a difficulty I can deal with, or Jo-Beth, or any number of others who would climb mountains for you.’
Warmed by his concern she said, ‘I’m just wretchedly weak and unaccustomed to having my emotions overflow without warning. I’m sorry Paul.’ She peeked at him over the handkerchief. ‘I’ve hurt poor Jo-Beth, after she’s been so good and self-sacrificing. I feel like a worm.’
‘She’ll forgive you. Your friendship is strong enough to stand a small contretemps. Jo-Beth is not the person to hold a grudge for long.’
‘I know it. But I must apologize as soon as possible.’
<
br /> Elly sighed and tucked the handkerchief in her sleeve. ‘I so dislike unbalanced females, yet here I am wobbling like a child’s top. Pay no mind to it, as my little Irish maid says whenever I point out something she’s missed.’ She indicated the chair especially brought for visitors. ‘Sit and tell me what you’ve been doing, Paul.’
He gathered up the bush flowers, leaving a spray of shed petals all over the floor, then plunged the remainder into a nearby water jug and sat down.
‘I’ve been trying to persuade J.G. to take Pepper as a boarder once more.’
‘You’re going away?’ She couldn’t hide her dismay.
‘I must. It’s a family obligation.’
‘But I thought you had no family, or only the ones from Calais, remote cousins who live up in the Hunter River District.’ Her voice had risen noticeably.
‘My mother’s cousin, Rob Whatmough, and his wife and daughter. Sadly, Rob lost his wife soon after they settled, so he decided to move on further west to Bathurst. I visited him a few weeks past and found him congenial.’
‘So, why must you visit him again?’ She searched his face, unable to repress a spasm of jealousy.
He looked grave. ‘I’ve had a letter from a Reverend Barton of Bathurst. Rob Whatmough was killed by a falling tree limb when riding in the forest, leaving his daughter, Lucy, an orphan. It seems that on his deathbed Rob commended her to my care.’
‘A child. A little girl.’
‘A young woman. Lucy is seventeen. Oh, I know I can scarcely take her into my bachelor household. I don’t intend to. Lucy is skilled in the making of machine lace, as was her family, and while she has no equipment to do such work here, her nimble fingers are well suited to employment in a millinery establishment. I’ve found a place in Sydney where she may be apprenticed. I’ll keep her under my eye and see she’s cared for by the Widow Brockenhurst, who will house and feed her and see to her welfare.’
A HAZARD OF HEARTS Page 24