After a lengthy deliberation Mrs Grannis cleared her throat and spoke with a calmness which did not entirely match her expression.
‘We are of the opinion that such matters as you have… explained, here, today, are not for open debate, certainly if the very mention of them might bring the League into any sort of disrepute. We would prefer it if you would leave Chicago this day…’
‘No!’
‘Miss Marsden, think of how such revelations would reflect upon our organisation. We cannot be seen to be associating with someone whose conduct is so perfectly at odds with all that we stand for!’
‘But why must it be known?’ I challenged her then. Challenged them all. ‘What I mean to say is, you have there a letter, Mrs Grannis. True, it is a damning epistle, one that could condemn me to oblivion should its contents be known.’
‘But they are known,’ a lady in an elaborately feathered hat spoke up. ‘We know of them.’
‘And is it not your reputations you wish to protect?’ I asked. ‘I do not ask you to care for mine if you cannot, and why should you? But surely, if I were to withdraw from my scheduled talk on the programme of the Fair, then questions would be asked. Then the contents of that letter would fall beneath the harsh light of public scrutiny. Surely your League, and your good selves, are already associated with me, for am I not here to give my talk at your invitation?’
This interpretation of the situation in which we found ourselves gave them pause. Again they consulted one another, heads bent low, voices soft so that I might not hear their debate. When Mrs Grannis spoke again I detected a note of anger in her words, but it was the faintest trace, for she kept herself tightly reined.
‘Given the lateness of the hour, we are prepared to permit you to speak, so long as you confine yourself precisely to details of your mission, to your proposals for the hospital, and to your request for donations for the cause.’
‘Of course, you need have no fear, Mrs Grannis. That is all I ever wanted.’
She offered no response to this. Indeed, the good ladies sat silent as sphinxes, not for one moment taking their eyes off me, as I then proceeded to outline for them the shape of the talk I intended giving. I was greatly relieved to once again be allowed to focus my energies and my attention on the needs of the lepers, and found solace in talking of them, the shame of my earlier confession fading slightly as I did so.
The Silver Spoon Tea Shop in Nelson was a little taste of home, offering cakes and biscuits such as one might find in the best bakeries of any English town. It was Jessy Brodie who first introduced me to it, and it became our habit to meet there when her work schedule allowed so that we might make our plans.
We sat at our favourite table in the window, overlooking the busy high street. I lifted the pretty china tea pot and poured carefully through the strainer. ‘Now, Jessy, I know you are bursting to tell me what you found on your trip to the north of the country, but first, I myself have news.’
‘Oh?’ She took off her gloves and placed them on the table on top of the small, pink and white, beaded bag she always carried. She was a rather plain woman, and wore her years of widowhood somewhat heavily, but she made the best of herself. Her late husband’s money enabled her to dress well, and to indulge in her weakness for the occasional frippery. Such as the beaded bag. ‘What news is that, Kate?’
‘Well, on Tuesday last I attended a meeting of the St John’s Ambulance committee, and I must say by the by that we shall have to keep a close eye on the manner in which they are running things, Jessy. I am not sure they are yet meeting your exacting standards.’ She blushed a little at this compliment. I went on. ‘But, committee matters aside, I was introduced to an interesting person, a widow like yourself. She has given of her free time, and of her own funds I am told, to help the organisation, and when I spoke to her she became most interested in my plans to seek out lepers in need of help and support.’
‘Your plans?’
‘I mean our plans, naturally. A little sugar? There. The lady in question is named Mrs Duff Hewitt. You might have heard of her? No? She is very well connected. I was impressed, I confess, by the calibre of person she calls friend. Two bishops and a state governor, no less. Not to mention the chair of the board of trustees for a highly reputable charity, I forget which just now.’
‘And how is Mrs Hewitt to be of help to our cause?’ Jessy asked, helping herself to a Viennese pastry.
‘She is keen to be involved, to help in any way she can. Oh, a slice of Battenberg! How delightful.’
‘Is she then a nurse? Is she willing to accompany us on our planned visit to India?’
‘Dear me, no, Nell has no medical training. And she does not pretend to be any sort of traveller.’ The idea made me laugh a little. I felt Jessy watching me closely, as if my very thoughts were being observed. It was not a pleasant feeling at all, to be so scrutinised by one who called herself my friend. Not for the first time I reflected upon the somewhat jealous nature of that friendship. It was as if Jessy disliked the notion of my having any friends at all besides herself. I had already given up Rose to satisfy this apparent need for an exclusive friendship, even though the manner of our relationship was not, and could never be, of the kind Rose and I had shared. Now, once more, I felt the burden of her disapproval and wondered how high a price I was prepared to pay for her continued support.
‘Then I do not see,’ Jessy said after sipping her tea, ‘quite how Mrs Hewitt is to assist us.’
‘She is a lady of some means,’ I explained. ‘She is grateful for her good fortune, and wishes to share what she has to help others.’
‘My word, she sounds to be the perfect philanthropist,’ Jessy said, though her tone suggested she might think otherwise.
I thought it best to ignore the subtle resistance she was putting up to even the notion of including someone new in our plans. There were greater matters at stake than her pride. ‘Indeed,’ I agreed cautiously, ‘her motives are entirely Christian. I see in her a kindred spirit.’
This simple statement of fact caused Jessy to sigh and turn to gaze out of the window. There were times I questioned her commitment to our cause. Was she truly sincere in her wish to travel to wherever might be necessary, to give up her life to help the most wretched and needy of God’s children? Or did she simply delight in make believe, enjoying the fancy of planning such grand endeavours without ever, ultimately, putting them into action? Certainly, in recent months, I had detected a reluctance on her part to spend money where it was needed. Only the previous week she had flatly refused to purchase the new trunks we would need in order to travel. Quite how she imagine we could journey halfway across the world without them I could not fathom.
‘Jessy, come along, your tea is getting cold. And these scones are delicious, you must try one.’ I reached across the table and patted her hand in what I hoped was a reassuring manner.
The gesture seemed to cheer her, for she smiled quite sweetly, placing her other hand on top of mine.
‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ I said, withdrawing my hand from her grasp so that I might search in my portmanteau. ‘Here, I received the drawings from the seamstress we were recommended. She has produce sketches of the travelling nurses’ uniforms we shall need for our trip, see?’ I handed her the papers. ‘I think they are very fine, don’t you agree?’
As I watched, Jessy gave the images only a cursory glance before turning the page in search of the price the work would command. In truth, I was beginning to find her constant concern with the cost of everything more than a little tiresome.
While I believed the loveliness and kindliness of the Tsarina had no equal, our own dear sovereign was undoubtedly the most queenly woman, and the most womanly queen. Her support for my work was steadfast. She was above such malicious tales and scandalous gossip as had turned others from me. Such talk did not reach her ears, or if it did, she chose to treat it with the scorn it deserved. She had been determined to give her blessing, and indeed her great name, to my
mission through Siberia, and her endorsement had paved the way for my being accepted into high society in Russia also.
Later, in the dark years after publication of my book, when many jealous foes had allied themselves against me for their own base purposes, still our glorious queen deemed me respectable and worthy. I remember, in 1906 I believe it was, being presented at court for a second time, breaking with all tradition, as I was neither coming out into society as a young woman would, nor was I married. Even so, she invited me, showing surely that no others had the right to turn me away. I had a gown made specially for the occasion, for it would have been unforgivable of me not to show that I was worthy of her continued patronage by appearing in any way less than I should. I selected a rich, navy blue brocade, with details of dark lace upon the sleeves and neckline, of modest cut, flattering, yet conservative, but with no expense spared as to quality of both cloth and workmanship. I was pleased with the results, and had my photograph taken to mark the occasion. I of course wore the beautiful brooch with which Her Majesty presented me when first I returned from Russia.
I did consider taking Nell to the picnic spot by the river that meant so much to me. But Nell was not Rose. And in any case, by this time I was residing in Nelson, and the journey would have been unfeasibly long for an afternoon. Instead I had to content myself with enjoying her company, for the most part, with others. It was, I believe, as much a trial for her as it was for me. My mother took to her more than she had done Rose, perhaps because Nell was nearer her own age. Or it might have been that she simply refused to believe that the good Mrs Duff Hewitt could be other than she appeared. Either way, the absence of tension around the dinner table, or when we three sat playing cards, was brought about by this welcome change in Mama’s behaviour.
I recall one evening that will be forever special in my memory. It had been a day of strong sunshine, and even though it was not far off midnight, the air remained heavy and warm. We had shared a fine supper, and Mama had retired. Nell and I took ourselves out into the little garden to the rear of the house. During my time there I had taken the trouble to have a pergola constructed at the far end of the lawn, with a cushioned swing seat fitted beneath it. The bougainvillea had established itself without any difficulty, and now its papery scarlet and purple blooms hung decoratively from the trellis above us.
We sat side by side and I set the seat to swinging, taking Nell’s hand in my own.
‘What a pretty dress this is, Nell. The colour suits you so very well,’ I told her.
‘Are you certain? I thought perhaps powder blue was a little young for me.’
‘Nonsense. It is your colour now, and it shall be when you are a hundred.’
She laughed at this. ‘I doubt I shall live to such a great age.’
‘I insist upon it! We shall grow ancient together.’
‘That would be most agreeable, Kate. I shall hold you to it.’
‘You and I will wear our years as women who have travelled, have done great things, have lived!’
‘And there was I, doing my utmost to live a quiet life. Until you stepped into it.’
I squeezed her hand and then, impulsively, lifted it to my lips and kissed it. Nell gave a little gasp, but she did not snatch it back. She was content to sit just so, with her long fingers pressed gently to my mouth. We looked into one another’s eyes, and I felt a strong affection pass between us, wordlessly but clearly. She was a handsome woman, with soft grey eyes and beautiful skin. She had about her a radiance, and at the same time a sadness. I thought that she must have loved her husband very much, and that the years she had spent alone since his death had etched such a loneliness onto her heart as could only be removed by someone who understood that. Someone who saw that here was a woman capable of great and generous love, if only she would permit herself the freedom to take it when it was offered.
‘I am so fortunate that God saw fit to bring you into my life, Nell.’
‘God and the small society that Nelson has to offer,’ she smiled.
‘We shall be the firmest of friends, my dear. I am sure of it,’ I told her.
She looked down then, a little nervously. ‘But of course you have other friends. Younger than I. More…alluring.’ She hesitated and then went on. ‘I should be saddened to think I am keeping you from those whose company is special to you.’
‘I shall always be happy to make time for you, Nell.’
‘But you are so occupied, caring for your mother, planning for your mission, raising money… Rose, for example, a dear girl, I’m sure, but she is not so well placed to assist you as I happily am. I can help you achieve your goals, Kate. You know I am eager to do so. My concern is that you will wear yourself out in attempting to be so much to so many. Would it not be better to confine your attentions to what is truly important? Better to leave alone alliances that can, that must, come to nought?’
I examined her face for traces of guile but found none, yet the meaning of her words was clear. Rose was a compromise she was unable or unwilling to make. Rose who I believed I could not exist happily without. And yet here was Nell with the means to enable my mission, my future.
There are times now when I awake from a fitful sleep and have no understanding of where I am. The room is clearly a hospital room, but beyond that point I am at a loss. My mind casts about for reason, for sense, for something to stand out from the white walls and white bedclothes, from the blankness of it all, something to speak of why it is I am here. And then my deadened limb, my weakened legs, my groggy thoughts remind me that there is nowhere else I could be. Even so, when a nurse enters the room I cannot say with any certainty that I have seen her before. I make a point of running through a list in my head: the young cheerful one, the old impatient one, the short one, the one with the bright blue eyes. And then, as I try to properly recognise whoever it is who tends me, I see instead something that sends me back to the past. Tawny hair like Rose’s. The sad eyes of my mother. Nell’s elegant hands. And then I am transported to sharper images, to clearer thoughts, and the present is lost to me.
I think, upon reflection, that it was a mistake to agree to another picnic with Rose. Our special place by the river had been a site of joy, of happiness, of escape from the crueller, harsher aspects of our lives. By taking her there for our farewell I had tainted it, tainted its memory too, with sadness.
It was such a pretty day, late in the summer, with the leaves still on the trees and nothing more than a warm breeze to disturb them. As we lay on the tartan rug beneath our favourite oak I saw a kingfisher flash above the river’s surface. I pointed it out to Rose, but her mood would not be lifted.
‘I shall never come here again,’ she told me.
‘Oh, Rose, you must! You love it so.’
‘Not without you,’ she said, picking at a loose thread in the weave of the rug.
‘But surely, if you visited you could enjoy the memory…’
‘I am not an old woman, Kate, to spend my life looking back, living on times gone by and things lost.’
‘Of course not, but…’
‘It’s all very well for you. You are to go out into the world again on a great adventure, while I must stay here. You have a new friend,’ she added pointedly.
‘I am sorry you do not care for Nell’s company. I believe you would have a great deal in common.’
‘It is she who does not care for my company, you must know that. And aside from our profession, the only thing common to us is you. Which is precisely her objection.’ Here she left off unravelling the rug and started packing up our picnic, stacking plates and food and jamming them roughly into the basket. ‘She does not properly care for you, you know,’ she went on speaking without once looking at me. ‘If she did she would not forbid you to see me.’
‘She has not forbidden me. What makes you think she has? And why do you think I would agree to such a thing?’
‘She is taking you away from me.’
‘Rose, I have explained. I must be
practical; I have my mission to consider, and Mama…’
‘Oh, and there’s another who will be happily rid of me.’
‘She does not understand.’
‘And does she understand about you and Nell Duff Hewitt?’
‘That is quite different and you know it. Nell has offered generous support of my plans. I do not have the luxury of financial security that would allow me to refuse that generosity.’
She paused in her packing to frown at me. ‘I would never have thought you a person to be so easily bought.’
‘Rose!’
‘It must be a very wonderful thing that she offers you, enabling you to take off on your noble quest to help the lepers. How sure you must be it will set you up and make your fortune to be known as the saviour of the afflicted! I should not like to think of myself given up for anything less.’
She got to her feet and stood facing me, her fists clenched as much against her own hurt feelings as in anger towards me, I believed. I stood up and tried to take her hand in mine but she snatched it away.
‘Dear Rose, do please try to understand. I am also trying to protect you.’
‘From what?’
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