However, when she returned to her room before dinner she felt distressed and depressed. She could not feel that she had deserved Lady Clarence’s strictures, yet the behaviour of Lottie Dones and of several of the other women seemed to suggest that there had perhaps been some sense in them. But what had she done wrong?
At dinner May was taken in by an elderly bachelor uncle whom she had never known well, while her father was on her other side. Lord Clarence had obviously been given a full account of his daughter’s misdemeanours by his wife and alternated between sympathetic glances and attempts to look stern whenever Lady Clarence caught his eye.
In the drawing room conversation in the region of Lady Clarence was stilted, but May felt she preferred this to the murmurs at Lady Hindlesham’s court, which sounded decidedly malicious. The first arrivals from the dining room proved to be Archie and an inarticulate young guardsman with whom he was friendly. They collected Louise, and the trio held a brief consultation before approaching Lady Clarence.
‘Perhaps we could persuade May to come with us, Aunt Julia?’ Archie’s voice was deferential. ‘We left the charades trunk in rather a state last night, and we really should tidy it up – the servants always try and organise it too thoroughly, and then we can never find a thing we want.’
Lady Clarence inclined her head graciously and May, feeling rather like a prisoner on ticket-of-leave retreated with them to the little room behind the ballroom.
Once the box was sorted out Archie suggested a game of billiards, and they sauntered off to the modern wing, Louise ahead with the guardsman.
‘Thanks for rescuing me Archie: it’s been a grim day.’
‘Well, you certainly don’t do things by halves, do you, May? Walking back in broad daylight in front of all the main bedrooms, with Harry Cussons of all people – and with your hair half down as well!’
‘But that was only because I’d been climbing the old centre oak.’
Archie threw back his head and laughed.
‘I believe you May, because I know you, but there’s plenty of tittle-tattlers around who don’t. I know Aunt Ju lays it on a bit strong at times, but she’s not completely off-beam. You know, I like Cussons, he’s good company – but he is rather a cad with the ladies.’
‘Oh Archie, you’re just being narrowminded and prejudiced. Don’t you turn against me as well.’ May’s voice trembled.
Archie looked quite alarmed. He reached for May’s hand and squeezed it quickly.
‘Sorry, old girl; ’nuff said.’
Several hard-fought games later May was feeling more cheerful; Bertie had arrived with a friend of his and the atmosphere was thick with cigar smoke and goodnatured banter. May had just executed a neat double hazard when the door opened, and to her surprise she saw her step-mother on the threshold.
‘Evening, Aunt Julia,’ said Bertie. ‘Have you come for a game?’
‘No, thank you Bertram,’ Lady Clarence replied levelly. ‘I have come for May; I wish to have a word with her. Perhaps you would care to accompany us back to the drawing room as well, Miss Dumer?’
Louise looked up in surprise and put down her cue; then, to May’s eternal admiration she picked it up again, gripped it firmly and said, with a touch of her mother’s transatlantic twang, ‘Thanks awfully, Lady Clarence, but I guess I’ll just finish my game.’
May barely had time to notice the look of surprised approval on Bertie’s face before she was whisked out of the door. It soon became clear that their destination was not the drawing room at all but her step-mother’s bedroom. With a sinking heart May prepared to endure her second homily of the day.
This time Lady Clarence fired her first salvo by pointing out that she had warned May before of the inadvisability of a young lady playing billiards later than noon. ‘It is not an elegant game at the best of times, though I accept that on a rainy day in the country it might be a means of passing the odd recreational hour, but to play after dinner! After dinner the billiard room is the preserve of the young men, especially when they are smoking. Your cousins should have known better, since you yourself appear to have lost all sense of propriety today’ – and there was considerably more in the same vein.
After an initial protest May closed her lips and listened in silence. Lady Clarence eventually wound up with: ‘It gives me no pleasure to have to speak to you like this May, no pleasure at all.’ May reflected mutinously that, since it certainly gave her no pleasure to listen perhaps they should dispense with the entire operation, but she realised anew the futility of arguing with Lady Clarence when she was in this mood, or indeed, in any other mood.
With a murmured, ‘I am sorry you are displeased, Step-mamma,’ – and that at least was true, she thought – she left the bedroom and returned to her own room. Bella came at once, and made no comment on May’s early bedtime, merely wishing her a good night after she had finished brushing and plaiting her hair.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, May again woke to a room filled with sunlight, but she stayed in bed. The events of the previous day coursed through her mind, but she still failed to see how she could have acted any differently. At last Bella arrived with her early morning tea tray. As her maid moved between the wardrobe and the dressing table she murmured, without looking in May’s direction, ‘The gentleman who motored over, Mr Cussons, wasn’t it? His valet, ever such a lively man, he kept us in stitches in Hall last night, he said they’re leaving this morning. Apparently he should really be staying in Lincolnshire with his uncle, the Duke. He just made a special effort to run over here, now he’s got to get back.’ May’s spirits plummeted even further; not that she would have dared to even speak to Harry Cussons again, still, he had seemed to enjoy her company.
After breakfast May and Louise sat in the inner drawing room with Lady Andover. While they were chatting idly, Harry Cussons came in to take leave of his hostess, so the two girls withdrew to the window seat. After a few minutes Lady Andover looked over at May, smiled, and called Louise to the piano to discuss some music. Harry Cussons approached May.
‘May I sit beside you for a moment, Miss Winton?’ He was seated before her confused assent had been given. He leant towards her, confidentially.
‘I gather I have been the unwitting cause of some distress for you.’
May blushed; he gave a broad smile.
‘I really should have remembered the oh-so-strict step-mother, shouldn’t I?’ His expression was rueful, and May could not restrain an answering smile.
‘Don’t worry, Mr Cussons, it’s not the first lecture I’ve been given, and I don’t suppose it will be the last.’
‘You know, I rather hope not,’ he said as he rose. ‘I must say goodbye now, but I trust we shall be in each other’s company again before long: and then I shall endeavour to behave with more discretion – in the sight of the Dragoness, at least!’
He laughed and was gone. May felt her cheeks burning; yet the sensation was not unpleasant. But, as her heartbeats slowed, she realised with dismay that it was quite likely that she never would be in Harry Cussons’ company again. After all, they had only met recently, and then only because Lady Clarence had been tempted by Lady Woodbridge’s match-making schemes; she was unlikely to make such a mistake again. May was very sure that the guest list would be carefully vetted before any further visit to Stemhalton; Lady Clarence was absolutely inflexible where she believed herself to be in the right. In any case did she, May, really want to see more of Harry Cussons? He was very attractive and amusing, but sometimes he seemed almost to have been laughing at her, as if he could not take her quite seriously. She certainly did not feel as at ease with him as she did with Archie, for instance, or even Jonny Yoxford. May bent her head and gloomily stabbed her embroidery.
A few minutes later her attention was aroused by her grandmother.
‘Would you like to come up to my room for a little while, my dear? I seem scarcely to have spoken to you since you arrived.’
Melicen
t Andover’s boudoir was as pretty, fresh and feminine as its occupant; May wandered round the room, exclaiming at familiar treasures.
‘I remember Archie bringing that back for you after we’d spent that holiday in Cromer – and the delicious little fan, how fascinated Emily and I were by the pictures! We used to make up stories about their picnic and why the little brown lady was sitting all alone – we thought she must be the governess. And the ivory elephant! It’s so tiny, but it has such old, wise eyes.’
Melicent Andover smiled indulgently.
‘Come and sit down, May,’ patting the low, chintz-covered ottoman. ‘I’m afraid Julia has been rather annoyed with you, my dear, and she was quite right to speak to you.’ May’s heart sank. ‘You were indiscreet: a young girl cannot be too careful of her reputation. But don’t look so downcast, things will be different when you’re married.’
‘I don’t want to get married, Grandmamma, I’m not in love with anyone.’
‘Nonsense, of course you do, all girls want to get married, and you will have more freedom then.’
‘But my husband might not like my climbing trees and walking in the early morning with Mr Cussons either!’
Lady Andover gave a peal of laughter and playfully rapped May’s knuckles with the little ivory fan.
‘You are so amusing, May, but so naïve; that’s why I decided to have this little chat with you. Julia has sheltered you far too much; you’re nearly twenty-two and a girl with your spirit needs to know more of the world. Now, my dear, it is silly to talk about falling in love in relation to marriage. You are an heiress and you are a very attractive girl. Settle for a young man whom you find pleasing, and who has a good position in society. Do your duty by him, give him the heirs he needs – then you can relax and enjoy yourself.’ She smiled reminiscently. ‘You wouldn’t need to go walking with young Harry in the full daylight then! There are ways of arranging these things – discreetly, of course.’
May stared at her grandmother; Lottie’s comments about Lady Hindlesham fell painfully into place. What a fool she’d been! But her grandmother had not finished.
‘Mind, May, I’m not saying you will have to settle for one of those rather callow youngsters who dance attendance on you. No, it seems to me that a most enviable prize might be within your reach.’ She leant forward confidentially. ‘I have never known Mr Cussons show so much admiration for a young girl, my dear.’
May’s thoughts were in a whirl.
‘But,’ she faltered, ‘but Step-mamma will never let me meet him again.’
Lady Andover’s eyes gleamed naughtily.
‘There are ways of arranging that, my dear; but remember, you must always behave with total discretion – until your fish is well and truly landed.’
Melicent Andover’s silvery laugh rang out again. She smiled at May’s astonished face.
‘I’ve shocked you, May, but think over what I’ve said carefully. You will soon see the sense in it. You do look rather discomposed at the moment: you had better stay up here until you feel calmer.’ She picked up a pile of magazines from her bureau and handed them to May. ‘Here, my dear, glance through my copies of “The Lady’s Realm” until you are ready to come downstairs again.’
Unthinkingly, May opened the magazine on her lap. She felt totally bewildered. Her grandmother appeared to be encouraging her to deceive her step-mother, yet Lady Clarence, whatever her faults, had always been rigidly fair. May shuddered at the thought of being detected in a falsehood by her; indeed she felt a sense of revulsion at the thought – no, it just wasn’t honest. Yet if she didn’t hoodwink her step-mother she would probably never see Harry Cussons again! But did she want to? Since he was clearly some kind of – her mind groped for words – some kind of close friend of Lady Hindlesham’s. And he had come into her life like a breath of fresh air; if she didn’t follow her grandmother’s suggestion then she would slip back into the same dull routine: endless calls and stuffy dinner parties and boring receptions. On the other hand, the idea of accepting say, Jonny Yoxford, then deliberately setting out to deceive him, that was too much – besides, suppose he did the same to her! May felt her throat thickening and the tears rising. She gripped the magazine firmly and forced herself to begin reading.
It was the June issue, and she dimly remembered leafing casually through it in London; now she made herself concentrate. The pictures on the fashion pages blurred and danced before her eyes, then slowly came into focus. She read, ‘Some quietly chic toilettes are being made of a new silk grass lawn, decorated with the palest ciel blue, with parasols ensuite’ but this seemed of little interest to May; nor could she care that ‘Paris has been curiously faithful to browns and yellows’ – what was curious about any French fashion? She turned the pages, pausing briefly at the large picture of a laughing Billie Burke; she remembered how flattered she’d been when Archie, peering over her shoulder, had exclaimed, ‘Why, she’s the spitting image of you, May. I noticed it the other night. But you don’t look quite such a flirt.’
‘I should hope not, indeed.’ Lady Clarence’s voice had been scandalised. ‘Comparing your cousin to an actress, Archibald, you should have more discretion. Come, May, we have calls to make.’
May sighed now, and listlessly turned on. Frescoes, she would read about frescoes; that seemed a sufficiently calming subject. But before she began she glanced idly at the full-page photograph of a society lady on the page opposite. The face seemed vaguely familiar, she must have seen her somewhere before. ‘Lady Hermione Blackwood’ – she had met a Blackwood once. She read the caption below: ‘Who has acted as a trained nurse in one of the London hospitals. Her father was the late Marquis of Dufferin and Ava.’ May looked at the pictured face with more interest. Fancy, a marquis’ daughter, and yet she’d trained as a nurse. May had never heard of aristocratic young ladies acting as nurses, except those ladies who’d rushed off to South Africa in a blaze of patriotic fervour, and apparently been a thorough nuisance to the professional nurses when they arrived. It must have been a big change for Lady Hermione: very different from her normal round of calling and dinner parties and… May gasped and gripped the magazine more firmly; all the boredom and frustrations of the last few months boiled up and crystallised into one solid idea. That was it, that was the answer – she would cut the Gordian knot, and go to be a nurse!
She sat very still, testing out the sudden decision in her mind, like a tongue exploring a newly-arrived wisdom tooth. She could remember a trained nurse coming into the house once, when she and Emily had both had scarlet fever; Nanny had been indignant but exhausted, Emily was delirious. May had watched the nurse rearranging the heavy nursery screen with practised ease. ‘You are strong, Nurse. Nanny always gets Betty to help her with those.’ The nurse had smiled. ‘Nurses have to be strong, so that they can lift heavy patients when they’re in bed.’ May, who’d only come across ‘patience’ as something everybody said she hadn’t got, had been puzzled then. Now she thought – well, I am strong, and I never catch cold. That should be worth something.
Suddenly her mind was made up. She sprang out of the chair, let the door bang behind her in her excitement and ran down the stairs. She found her step-mother sitting with her embroidery in the corner of the drawing room. May marched in before her courage faltered.
‘Step-mamma, may I have a word with you?’
‘Certainly my dear.’ Lady Clarence looked surprised as she laid down her work. ‘Sit down.’
May sat down and took a deep breath. ‘Step-mamma, I wish to tell you that I have decided to train as a nurse, in a hospital in London.’
For once in her life May saw her step-mother flabbergasted. For a moment Lady Clarence’s jaw actually dropped. Then her mouth clamped shut.
‘Nonsense, May, young ladies in your position do not act as hospital nurses!’
It was a moment of exquisite triumph. May thrust ‘The Lady’s Realm’ beneath her step-mother’s eyes. ‘Oh, yes they do, read this.’ As Lady Clarence stared
at the caption May continued vigorously, ‘If a marquis’ daughter can train to be a hospital nurse, then a marquis’ grand-daughter certainly can!’
Chapter Eight
In the late afternoon of the second Friday in September May stepped down from a growler outside the long grey barracks of St Katharine’s Hospital in the East India Dock Road. A mere four weeks ago she had announced her new ambition at Stemhalton, and here she was, deposited with her trunk and hand luggage outside the main entrance of the biggest voluntary hospital in the East End of London.
Events had moved more rapidly than even May had anticipated. Having made her announcement to Lady Clarence, she had listened to her comments in silence. May knew her step-mother was, though rigid in outlook, a just woman: she had expressed strong doubts on the question of May’s motives, but could not castigate such an aim as immoral. She told her step-daughter she would give the matter careful consideration, but May, when she left her step-mother, went straight down to the library to find a directory of voluntary hospitals. She was bemused by the sheer number of them, but decided, after a quick survey, to write to St Katharine’s, since it was listed as having the most beds which, she reasoned, must mean that they needed the largest number of nurses; in addition the address was given as the East India Dock Road, which seemed somehow appropriate to her Frears shipyard inheritance. A letter to the Matron was written and delivered personally into Lofthouse’s hands, to go in the next post. On her father’s return for lunch she informed him of the fait accompli.
Lord Clarence was stunned; but caught between the conflicting wills of his wife and his daughter he wisely said little, contenting himself with, ‘It’s, humph, – a big step – never knew you were interested in that sort of thing.’
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