The gentleman’s face fell, but Anne caught his gaze with a fearsome grip, ensuring he was paying careful attention to what she said, and not falling into despair.
“You must understand, Sir. I have led a life of quiet despair. For much of my life I never knew if I would survive the week, the month, or the year. For much of my life, I was not even certain whether my own mother actually loved me, or tended me out of duty. I now know that she does, but the matter was uncertain for some time. You see sitting beside me the only person in the world whom I have always had complete faith knew me and loved me, warts and all.”
Mr Read nodded in acknowledgment, aware he was being told things of a very personal nature. A glance at Miss Bennet revealed she was paying close attention to everything being saidas well; her countenance betrayed a touch of sadness at what Miss de Bourgh said, but not any particular surprise.
“I can assure you, Sir, that it takes every ounce of self-discipline I have to ask you to continue with your courtship as you offered, and to ask your question in the proper time and place. I would very much like to be certain that we both are making the right decision. You are quite certainly the best man I have ever met, and it would kill me to believe that I chained you to a life of misery simply because you are the first man to really pay me any attention. If our affections are strong and sure, they will survive a six-week courtship strengthened rather than diminished. At that time, we can decide based on true understanding of one another.”
Though the gentleman had now given free rein to his heart, and considered his own decision fixed and irrevocable, he agreed her idea was sound.
“I shall happily accede to your request, Miss de Bourgh. Every couple deserves a courtship, and while it is entirely possible and in fact admirable to have a proper courtship even after marriage, I would not wish to rush things. Let us do as you say that we may be happy we have done things properly.”
The look on both ladies’ faces pleased him. His lady displayed a combination of happiness, insecurity, and longing; he was quite certain things would work out as they should, in their own good time.
One other piece of business needed attention.
“Miss Bennet, perhaps I am rushing myself; but should things work out as we all hope they will, it would be my privilege to offer you an open invitation to reside in my home as long as you like, be it a week or forever. I realise the offer is redundant so long as you have Miss de Bourgh’s good graces, but I wish to make absolutely certain you understand how welcome you will always be.”
Both ladies smiled shyly, and for the most part everybody was content with the plan. Six weeks would be more than enough time for them to get to know one another, and there was generally little doubt about what the outcome would be.
Elizabeth was impressed, but she was also aware she had spent only a few hours in the man’s company. She would know more after she had spent more time with him, but since she was not the one marrying him, her opinions would be in an advisory role at most. She was not even entirely certain she would offer that much advice. Anne was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
Mr Read rose from his knees… well, truth be told he was not a young buck anymore, so while he attempted to stand gracefully, he in fact toppled to his side. A bit of scrambling put him to rights while the ladies enjoyed a good laugh at his expense—as things should be. Mr Read would be happy to be ridiculous for these ladies any time it was required, and ultimately the triumvirate was back on their feet, ready to take some refreshments and decide on their future for the next six weeks.
At least for the moment, and perhaps forever, it seemed the two ladies were to be Americans.
Nurse No Evil(First Person)
TIRED!That is what I was: tired! Weary to the bone, and tired in my very soul! I wanted nothing more than to return to my father’s house, take to my bed for a day or a month, and hope to recover some strength and perspective on all I had seen in the past year.
It had appeared such a sensible idea at the time. There was a war on, I was seven and twenty, and nearly on the shelf. What a horrid term that was, but I heard the whispers at every assembly, every supper, every gathering of any kind. I lived in a town where even the jewels of the county remained unwed, and my chances of domestic felicity seemed ever thinner by the week.
I sat one day, listening to my silly younger sister blather, when my brother returned from university. I saw his eyes sweep the parlour. Some may consider this pessimistic, but I thought I detected a look of pending distress. Years and years of sitting in this parlour doing absolutely nothing stretched before me, and he viewed the same prospect with no more enthusiasm than I. Naturally, he was my brother and was to inherit everything, so he would be honour-bound to take care of me, but was that anything to aspire to? Did I truly wish to spend the rest of my years teaching his wife’s ten children how to embroider? Did I truly want to be under the control of my brother and his wife—forever?
In a flash of insight or insanity, I conceived that the problem and the solution might be one and the same. I was unmarried because too many of the local men, both gentlemen and tradesmen, had been called off to fight the madman in France. Many of those boys returned in pieces, if at all, and were of no use to me. However, they were doing their duty while I sat here doing… nothing… absolutely nothing!
Once the idea occurred, there was no stopping me. I was deemedsensible, which mostly was a synonym foraccommodatingorinvisible. I took a leaf from the book of some of the less appealing young ladies of the county, and I started working on my father and brother to bend them to my will. My brother was easy enough to work on; my father took several weeks before my plan finally came to fruition, and I was reluctantly sent on my way.
I had been at my duties for just over a year, on that blisteringly hot day in late August, when I was tired enough to decide it was worth going home for a month. I was only slightly richer in fortune than I had been when I left, though I did consider myself much richer in character and experience. My chosen profession was not exactly well-paid, so with little coin to spare, my options were to continue my current duties or return home. I had not seen my mother or father in quite some time, so home it was to be… for a while. It was hard to imagine returning to sit around the drawing room all day, so I was dubious about the long-term viability of that plan, but a short rest had some appeal.
The year had started simply enough. My interview with the matron went well, and I was soon assigned to the simple tasks of a beginner. I brought water or food to wounded soldiers, read to them, helped them with their letters, adjusted their bedding, or tried to see to their comfort. Some of the men in the lower ranks could not even read or write, so I wrote to their families on their behalf and read the responses as often as they liked.
Gradually, I learned how to change bandages and dress wounds; then progressed to more difficult bandages; and then more arduous tasks. Sometimes the nurses had to cajole a man onto his feet when he just wanted to rest but had to be up and about. Sometimes we bathed a fever in wet rags, even though there was little to show for our efforts. Sometimes we acted asmaids, changing sheets, emptying chamber pots, and cleaning around a bed. Every day there was something new, and I determined there was no task suitable foranynurse that I would avoid.
Gradually, my duties increased along with my experience and my resilience. I eventually learned, much to my dismay, how to sit holding a man’s hand while his life bled out around me. I learned how to be a man’s wife, mother, or sister if he was burning up with fever, and nothing but a beloved voice would calm him. I plumbed the depths of pain, death, and sorrow—but also the depths of brotherly love and affection on display all around me every day.
After a time, I became known as someone who was sensible, but that word carried a quite different connotation. In an army hospital, it indicated a strong constitution and willingness to do anything to help the boys and men under her charge, and I must admit to a feeling of pride inthisflavour ofsensibility. If the doctors needed somebody to talk calmly to a man while a surgeon hacked his leg off with a bone saw, I was considered eminently suitable. Did they need somebody to talk to a man who had no hope whatsoever of surviving, just to make his last few hours on this earth bearable? It was no difficulty for me. If they required someone to scream at a man like a cross between a badger, an angry mother, and a hostile nursemaid, to get him out of bed and onto his feet, one could do worse than me.
Day by day, I continued doing my work, like the other nurses around me. Just like them, I eventually reached the point where I needed to rest. I had by that time lasted very much longer than most of the gentlewomen who came in to volunteer for the duty. They were usually as desperate as I was, but most of them were not quite as resolute or as stubborn. Many women lasted but hours or days and then disappeared, but among those of us who stayed, a sisterhood was made that was quite appealing.
I finally reached the point where I needed a short rest. The women who made this their life’s work took care not to be in the thick of things constantly, but I had shown no such restraint. I needed a rest, and thought I was likely to return to the most rewarding yet difficult task I had ever undertaken.
The decision made, I acted with the alacrity I applied to every action and requested leave. It was naturally granted, especially when I indicated that I planned to return… though the matron’s gaze led me to believe she was sceptical. I was sure she had heard it many times before, but she was grateful for my past service, so had no room to complain; even if it should occur to her, which it would not. She was who I measured all other women against, and hoped one day to emulate.
My trunk packed, I was taking leave of my colleagues and the soldiers in for treatment that day, when I received a most unusual summons from a corporal.
“The general wishes to see me?”I squeaked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
