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“Loxa quinine, theriac, Hoffman’s mineral liquor—and a little ale to make it palatable.”
“Seems very reasonable.” Callandra led the way to the withdrawing room. “But outside your authority, of course.”
“Yes,” Hester agreed quietly.
Callandra closed the door behind them. “And you are not sorry,” she added. “I assume you would do the same again?”
“I—”
“Do not lie to me, my dear. I am quite sure you would. It is a great pity they do not permit women to study medicine. You would make a fine doctor. You have intelligence, judgment and courage without bravado. But you are a woman, and that is an end of it.” She sat down on a large and extremely comfortable sofa and signaled Hester to do the same. “And what do you intend to do now?”
“I have no idea.”
“I thought not. Well perhaps you should begin by coming with me to the theater. You have had an extremely trying day and something in the realm of fantasy will be a satisfactory contrast. Then we will discuss what you are to do next. Forgive me for such an indelicate question, but have you sufficient funds to settle your accommodation for another week or two?”
Hester found herself smiling at such mundane practicality, so far from the moral outrage and portent of social disaster she might have expected from anyone else.
“Yes—yes I have.”
“I hope that is the truth.” Callandra’s wild eyebrows rose inquiringly. “Good. Then that gives us a little time. If not, you would be welcome to stay with me until you obtain something more suitable.”
It was better to tell it all now.
“I exceeded my authority,” Hester confessed. “Pomeroy was extremely angry and will not give me any kind of reference. In fact I would be surprised if he did not inform all his colleagues of my behavior.”
“I imagine he will,” Callandra agreed. “If he is asked. But so long as the child recovers and survives he will be unlikely to raise the subject if he does not have to.” She regarded Hester critically. “Oh dear, you are not exactly dressed for an evening out, are you? Still, it is too late to do a great deal now; you must come as you are. Perhaps my maid could dress your hair? That at least would help. Go upstairs and tell her I request it.”
Hester hesitated; it had all been so rapid.
“Well don’t stand there!” Callandra encouraged. “Have you eaten? We can have some refreshment there, but it will not be a proper meal.”
“Yes—yes I have. Thank you—”
“Then go and have your hair dressed—be quick!”
Hester obeyed because she had no better idea.
The theater was crowded with people bent on enjoying themselves, women fashionably dressed in crinoline skirts full of flounces and flowers, lace, velvet, fringes and ribbons and all manner of femininity. Hester felt outstandingly plain and not in the least like laughing, and the thought of flirting with some trivial and idiotic young man was enough to make her lose what little of her temper was left. It was only her debt, and her fondness for Callandra, that kept any curb on her tongue at all.
Since Callandra had a box there was no difficulty about seats, and they were not placed close to anyone else. The play was one of the dozens popular at the moment, concerning the fall from virtue of a young woman, tempted by the weakness of the flesh, seduced by a worthless man, and only in the end, when it was too late, desiring to return to her upright husband.
“Pompous, opinionated fool!” Hester said under her breath, her tolerance at last stretched beyond bearing. “I wonder if the police ever charged a man with boring a woman to death?”
“It is not a sin, my dear,” Callandra whispered back. “Women are not supposed to be interested.”
Hester used a word she had heard in the Crimea among the soldiers, and Callandra pretended not to have heard it, although she had in fact heard it many times, and even knew what it meant.
When the play was finished the curtain came down to enthusiastic applause. Callandra rose, and Hester, after a brief glance down at the audience, rose also and followed her out into the wide foyer, now rapidly filling with men and women chattering about the play, each other and any trivialities or gossip that came to mind.
Hester and Callandra stepped among them, and within a few minutes and half a dozen exchanges of polite words, they came face-to-face with Oliver Rathbone and a dark young woman with a demure expression on her extremely pretty face.
“Good evening, Lady Callandra.” He bowed very slightly and then turned to Hester, smiling. “Miss Latterly. May I present Miss Newhouse?”
They exchanged formal greetings in the approved fashion.
“Wasn’t it a delightful play?” Miss Newhouse said politely. “So moving, don’t you think?”
“Very,” Callandra agreed. “The theme seems to be most popular these days.”
