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“No. A bit tired, perhaps.” The lie was becoming thinner, even though it held a fragment of truth. She certainly wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and pull the covers over her head.
Amity came into the room. “Well, here’s the rest of the gossip from downstairs. Cynthia Parlin is engaged—he asked on Christmas Day. Gladys Traipine isn’t coming back—she’s a second year, do you know her? Apparently her father said she hasn’t learned a thing here and he won’t let her return.” She sat on the bed. “And there’s a new doctor—a surgeon, Dr. Masters. No one seems to have seen him yet, but apparently he’s very handsome.” She paused, frowning. “You do look peaky. And going back home was meant to be a rest, you silly thing!”
Ellen gazed down at her sketchbook. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. “I am a rather silly thing.” She was horrified to realize she was quite suddenly near tears, and she blinked them back, her throat raw and aching with the effort.
“Ellen?” Amity lay a hand on her arm. “Ellen, whatever has happened?”
A tear plopped onto the cover of her sketchbook, and Ellen wiped it away with her thumb. “Nothing, really,” she said, “except that I’ve been a terrible, blind, stupid fool.”
Amity gave an uncertain little laugh. “That doesn’t sound very good.”
“No, it isn’t.” Ellen took a deep breath, the effort of holding the howling misery within her making her sides ache. “Amity, have you ever been in love?”
“No, not a bit. I wish I had. You know I’d have a husband, children, the lot, but it hasn’t happened and I don’t think it will.” She smiled slightly, the curve of her lips sad. “I know I’m only twenty-three, but I feel as if it’s passed me by already.”
“Yes,” Ellen agreed, “I know what you mean.”
“So, you must be in love with someone, then.” Amity kept her voice light, although there was real concern in her dark eyes.
“Yes, and I’ve only just realized it. I should have seen ages ago, years perhaps, but I never did. I didn’t want to. I... I suppose because I was afraid.”
“Afraid? Why?”
Ellen looked up, her eyes bright with tears. “I’m not even sure why. Maybe it’s because everyone I’ve loved has left. That’s putting it a bit too strong, I suppose. Just Mam and Da, but still.”
Amity frowned. “You were afraid this man would leave you?”
“No, not exactly. I didn’t ever think that far. I didn’t even consider loving him. Loving anyone. I’ve never really thought a
bout getting married, even. And yet somehow it has all crept up on me and been the most awful surprise.” She managed to laugh, just a little, and the sound trembled on the air.
“I think it could be quite a pleasant surprise, depending on the circumstances.”
“Ah yes, the circumstances. Those are this: he’s in love with my friend Louisa, and I found them together in an embrace.” Ellen flushed at the memory. “I was so shocked and horrified—and that’s when I realized. I would never have felt that awful, so betrayed, if...”
“If you didn’t care for him.”
Ellen nodded miserably. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner. It’s so glaringly obvious to me now. It’s most likely been obvious to everyone.” She nearly shuddered at that thought. “I expect they’ll get married. Louisa told me she aims to be his wife, although I can’t really imagine her living on a farm. She’s always had such airs and graces.” Ellen shook her head, forcing the thought away. “I could live with that, I suppose, since I never truly thought of getting married myself, but I’m afraid I’ve lost Jed’s friendship as well. I said some horrible things—about him. I shouldn’t have, it was just I was so angry and hurt and I didn’t know he was listening.” She looked up, swallowing hard. “But he was, of course. And I don’t see how anything can ever be the same between us again.”
Amity was silent for a moment. “It probably won’t,” she said quietly, “but you can move on. These things can heal over. There’s still a scar—you’ve seen it in surgery! But you can be almost new again. Can’t you?” She looked anxiously at her friend, and Ellen nodded slowly.
There was no point going back, living in regret for lost dreams she’d never even known she’d had. She was made of sterner stuff than that; the years in Springburn, in Seaton, attested to that.
Ellen smiled wanly. “Yes,” she said, and this time her eyes were dry. “Yes, I can.”
The next few weeks kept Ellen too busy to dwell on her feelings for Jed or the events over Christmas which had made her aware of them. There were lectures to attend, ward duties to perform, and the general hectic affairs of life at the hospital and in the Nurses’ Home.
Halfway through January, Ellen was called upon by Dr. Trowbridge to assist in surgery. She quelled under his imperious summons, for she’d never been in the domed Fenwick operating theater, with its rows of wooden seats for the medical students, the operating table below as if on a stage.
“It’s a simple amputation, Nurse,” Dr. Trowbridge informed her briskly. His normally spotless gray suit was now covered with a white coat and apron, and the surgical instruments, bathed in carbolic acid, lay gleaming in their tray.
In the last decade Pasteur’s Germ Theory had gained wider acceptance, and Kingston General Hospital had been practicing sterilization techniques for several years. It made Ellen feel strange to think of all those little germs flying through the air, like some kind of invisible yet deadly poison, yet she’d seen herself the positive effect of washing hands.
“Nurse Copley, you will hold the appendage.”
Ellen, standing quietly to the side, looked up, startled. “The...?” she began, and then realized what he meant. She was supposed to hold the leg that Dr. Trowbridge planned to amputate.
Swallowing the acidic taste that had pooled in her mouth, Ellen grasped the patient’s swollen leg as another doctor dripped ether into the cone above the man’s face.
