Secret for a Nightingale (33 page)

I watched with the music ringing in my ears and looked at Lily who was soon to be a mother, and I prayed that William would come safely home to her.

Polly and Jane thought the soldiers were lovely and they were determined, as they said, ‘to jolly Lily out of herself, so we all went back to the house and talked about the baby and we showed Lily the clothes we had collected for the layette;

and Lily’s spirits were lifted to some degree.

The next day we had a visitor. It was Charles Fenwick.

“I am in London for two days,” he said, ‘so I had to come and see you.

I am going to the Crimea. “

“When?” I asked.

“Immediately. The war has made up my mind. They are going to need doctors badly at the front. I applied to go and was accepted at once and I am on my way.”

“I wish you all the luck.”

He smiled at me and then at Henrietta.

“When I come back,” he said, ‘we must all meet again. May I call? “

“We shall be most put out if you do not,” said Henrietta.

Our leave taking was a little brusque. I think we were all trying to hide our emotions.

People could talk of hardly anything but war. I think they had expected miracles of the army and they were impatient because there was no news of victory.

Promptly on time Lily’s baby appeared and there was great rejoicing in both the Clift household and our own. Little Willie made even the war recede a little. He was a healthy, lusty boy and the pride of Lily’s heart. We discussed him endlessly; as for Jane and Polly, they were overcome with delight in the child.

The diversion was welcome, for the euphoria of the people was beginning to evaporate.

What was happening out there? The summer was almost over when we heard of the victory of the British and French at the Alma. The war would soon be over now, everyone was saying. Our soldiers were out there and that spoke for itself. But disturbing accounts were appearing in The Times, whose war correspondent, William Howard Russell, was sending home some very alarming despatches.

There was a cholera epidemic which had smitten the army and men were dying, not of battle wounds but of disease. The hospital equipment was pitiful. The organization was non-existent and it was the lack of medical supplies and attention which was defeating our men. The enemy was disease and mismanagement not the Russians.

The people were restive, looking for scapegoats; in vain did the army attempt to suppress these despatches; the hideous stories kept coming through.

Something had to be done.

One day there was a paragraph in the papers which startled us.

ad air for the crimea, it announced.

I read it aloud to Henrietta.

Dr. Damien Adair is to go to the Crimea. He says that he is deeply shocked by what is happening out there. He wants to look into what is going on. He says it seems like an example of crass mismanagement. Dr. Adair is that doctor whose Eastern travels have interested so many. He is an expert on the use of drugs in medicine. He left today and should shortly be on the spot.

I dropped the paper and looked at Henrietta.

“How I wish,” I said, ‘that I could be there. “

“What harm do you think he will do?”

I shook my head.

“Wherever he is, disaster follows.”

“It seems it has come to the Crimea without him.”

“I wonder …”

“So do I.”

“Wouldn’t it be exciting … if we could go?”

“We should never be allowed to.”

“I’ve always told myself that nothing is impossible.”

Henrietta shrugged her shoulders.

“He’ll soon be back. Perhaps he’ll be in London with Charles. Then we can ask them both to dinner.”

I kept thinking of him with his demon face and those poor men lying at his mercy in some ill-equipped hospital.

The Russell articles could not be ignored. Something had to be done and it was.

The next item of news was that Miss Florence Nightingale had been asked to get together a group of nurses to take out to the Crimea.

That was all we needed.

Henrietta, through her connections, had soon acquired the information as to how the nurses would be selected. We were to present ourselves at the home of the Herberts, who had lent it to Miss Nightingale for this purpose. It was in Belgrave Square and when we arrived we had to face four ladies, one of whom was known to Henrietta. I was not sure that this was an advantage, for she would have known of Henrietta’s breaking off her engagement to Lord Cariton, which would be considered a feckless action, particularly as she had gone off and escaped from her social circle, disappearing into near obscurity.

We were studied with some amazement.

“Do you realize that this is going to be very hard work?” we were asked.

“It is not for young ladies like you.”

I retorted rather warmly: “We have been for just over three months at

Kaiserwald. There we worked very hard indeed and learned something about tending the sick. I think that I have an aptitude for the work and indeed this could be confirmed by the Head Deaconess of Kaiserwald. It is my firm desire to join the party of nurses. I hope you will consider us.”

“We have no doubt,” was the answer, ‘that you are the sort of person Miss Nightingale would want, but I am warning you. The majority whom we have seen have been working girls without employment. girls who have to earn a living. “

“We want to come,” I said earnestly.

“Miss Marlington?” said our inquisitor, looking at Henrietta.

“I was at Kaiserwald. I worked hard and I want to go very much.”

“I will put your names before Miss Nightingale and I will tell her what impression you have made.”

We left not exactly elated.

“I think,” said Henrietta sombrely, ‘that I may have spoilt it for us both. They know of me and they regard me as feckless and frivolous.

I’m sorry, Anna. You should have gone alone. They would have seized you, but I fancy you are a little contaminated by your proximity to one who has proved herself no asset to society. “

“Nonsense,” I said.

“We’ll go and we’ll go together.”

A little to my amazement, I was proved right.

A few days later we both had a note to say that we were accepted.

During the weeks which followed there was no time to think of anything but our impending departure. The journey to Kaiserwald had seemed an exciting adventure but it was nothing to this.

Jane and Polly were wide-eyed with amazement when they heard what we were going to do.

“Lord ‘a mercy,” said Polly, “I never heard the likes of what you two ladies get up to. I should have thought young men was what Miss Henrietta ought to be thinking of … As for you. Miss Pleydell, a little of that wouldn’t do you a bucketful of harm.”

“We have made up our minds that we are going out to nurse the wounded soldiers.”

Lily said: “If it wasn’t for young Willie, I’d come with you. Look out for William, won’t you, Miss.”

I said I would.

Joe shook his head in disbelief.

“And who’s going to be riding in the carriage when you’re out there?” he demanded.

“Carriages isn’t meant to stand in Mews. They want to be out and about, rolling along the road.”

“It can wait until we come back.”

“You be careful,” said Joe.

“Wars is dangerous things.”

When we brought home our uniforms Jane and Polly were too shocked for speech. We had been told that the nurses would be dressed all alike.

Therewerenoconcessionsfor ladies. Wewould all eat together, share duties and wear the same uniform. Miss Nightingale planned it so to create a new professionalism.

I must admit to a certain horror when I saw what we were to wear.

“Why,” demanded Henrietta, ‘do we have to be ugly to be efficient? “

“Perhaps they are meant to imply: ” Keep off, you gallant gentlemen. We are bent on duty. “

“I don’t think any gentleman will feel very gallant when he sees us in these. Yours is too small. Mine is too big.”

It was true. The uniforms were not made to measure. There were sizes and we were given the nearest to what would fit us. We had what was called a wrapper, which was a tweed dress in an ugly shade of grey; a jacket of worsted in the same dull colour; a woollen cloak and a white cap.

When Lily saw them she held up her hands in dismay.

“Wherever did they find such things?” she demanded.

“They are designed especially to show that we are not to be regarded as objects of admiration,” I explained. Then I said to Henrietta: “You don’t look too bad in yours.”

“Which is more than I can say for you. You look as if you’ve robbed a scarecrow.”

Lily commented: “They wouldn’t look quite so awful if they fitted.”

“Perhaps you can shorten Henrietta’s and turn up the sleeves,” I suggested.

Lily examined the garment.

“Yes, I can do that.”

“But I think mine is a hopeless case.”

She was kneeling at my feet.

“There’s a tidy hem here … and as you’re like a beanpole you don’t take up much in the body. I could lengthen the sleeves, too.”

She got to work immediately, eager to do something for us. She was more sombre than the others. I think Jane and Polly thought our going to the Crimea was something of a joke. Lily did not take it quite like that. But I think she was secretly glad we were going. She had such a high opinion of me and believed I could look after William, for it seemed to her that I should be sure to find him, since we were going to the same place.

There was a slight improvement in our uniforms when they fitted better; and Lily, with her needle, was a miracle worker.

Feverishly we prepared for our departure, and on a bright October Saturday morning, we set out for London Bridge on our journey to the Crimea.

All the nurses were travelling together and I had my first glimpse of Miss Nightingale. She was an extremely handsome woman, which surprised me. I had heard, through Henrietta, that she could have made a brilliant marriage and been a star of society; instead she was absorbed by her mission, which was to nurse the sick and to give England hospitals of which she could be proud. She was noble. She was admirable. In fact I thought then and this was confirmed later that she was the most remarkable woman I had ever met. She was aloof, yet at the same time obviously watchful of everything which was going on. She had a rare dignity and distinction; and I thought her wonderful.

We were to go to Boulogne, where we would disembark and travel immediately to Paris, where we would spend one night;

from there, we would go down to Marseilles, staying there for four days to enable supplies to be collected before we boarded the ship which was to take us to Scutari.

I was very eager to discover what our fellow nurses would be like.

There were forty of them.

“All sorts and conditions,” said Henrietta to me. And indeed they were so. There were about half a dozen very like ourselves; as for the rest, they baffled me. Some of them had ravaged faces and were not very young. I wondered why they had been chosen, and I learned afterwards that they had been accepted in desperation because it had not been easy to recruit nurses for such an under taking.

On the ship going to Boulogne, I had the opportunity of meeting some of them. Henrietta and I were on deck when one of the nurses, seeing Henrietta, called out: “Henrietta! How wonderful to see you! So you are in this, are you? I think it is going to be interesting.”

She was a tall woman of about thirty with haughty patrician features.

Henrietta introduced her: “Lady Mary Sims. Miss Pleydell.”

We shook hands.

“Dorothy Jarvis-Lee is here, too,” said Lady Mary.

“We came together.

When we heard about it, we were simply wild to come. Isn’t Florence marvelous? Do you know, I don’t think she wanted to take us. She wouldn’t at first. It was only when they found it so hard . She thought we shouldn’t care about mixing with hoi polloi. Oh, there is Dot. Dot, I’ve found Henrietta Marlington. “

Mrs. Dorothy Jarvis-Lee came over. She was angular with a rather weather-beaten face, which suggested life in the country.

“Henrietta. So nice to see you.”

“And this is Miss Pleydell.”

We shook hands.

“I know you are a great friend of Henrietta. You went with her, didn’t you, to that place in Germany?”

“Yes, Kaiserwald,” I said.

“It is supposed to be one of those pioneer places. When I heard about this, I felt I had to come. After all, it is a way of serving one’s country.”

While we were talking I had noticed two women watching us. One was

large and the other small and very pale. The larger one seemed to be bursting out of her uniform and the small one to hang in hers.

They were watching us intently and I saw a smile curve the lips of the big one. It was not very pleasant.

Then, turning to her companion, she said in a loud drawling voice which was obviously meant to be an imitation of that of Mrs. Jarvis-Lee: “Oh, ‘ello, Ethel, what are you doing ‘ere? Me … I’ve come to serve me country. I told Florence I’d come. I meter the other night at Lord Lummy’s castle and he said to me, “

“Ere, Eliza, why don’t you go and ‘elp Florence with the soldiers? Mind what company you keep ‘cos you’ll get some funny old birds going out with you. I don’t suppose they’ve ever made a bed in their lives. Never mind, it’ll be nice for you to mix in such company.”

There was silence while Mrs. Jarvis-Lee and Eliza looked at each other.

The contempt on one side, and the hostility could be felt.

Eliza said: “Come on, Ethel. I reckon we ought to be careful what company we keep. We don’t want to pick up with the likes of some.”

The smaller woman looked at us nervously, and big Eliza held her firmly by the arm as they walked off, Eliza swaying in a manner which she clearly thought was the affected manner of the rich.

“Well,” said Mrs. Jarvis-Lee, ‘if that is the son we have to live with there is going to be trouble. She was deliberately insolent. I shall refuse to eat at the same table with people like that. I think there should be some way of seeing that ladies are kept separate from them.