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Hester understood. She might have done the same. No one else would know what gratitude he might express when he and his daughter were alone, what private passion or despair she might be a silent witness to, what indignities she would pretend not to observe, yet he would always be conscious that she knew. The very ill have little privacy, even for the most intimate of things.
Radnor studied Magnus for several moments and seemed to be satisfied with what he saw. Magnus was an unassuming man. He had none of the arrogance of his elder brother, but he had the confidence of both education and practical success. And unlike Hamilton, he had patience.
Radnor nodded and inclined his head towards Hester. ‘Who is she?’ he asked, his question clearly still directed at Magnus.
‘One of Florence Nightingale’s nurses,’ Magnus replied without hesitation. ‘She was standing in for a friend, on night duty, but we have asked her to remain and look after you. We will find someone else to replace her in the ward.’
Radnor regarded Hester for only a moment longer, then nodded. ‘Good. You may begin.’
Before he would do anything further, Magnus had Hes
ter make all the usual measurements and assessments of pulse, temperature, history of eating, drinking, digestion and elimination, patterns of sleep or lack of it, and such treatments as they had attempted, and their results.
Radnor told her grudgingly, and twice Adrienne stepped in to answer in his behalf. Hester accepted this, because it was not uncommon for people to find it awkward to answer such things to people they did not know, or more often in the presence of those they knew very well.
She assessed the answers with her own private marks on the notes to indicate where she doubted the truthfulness of them. She would explain later to Magnus what they meant. Dependence can make people hate those they depend upon. It could be a complex and exhausting relationship. Often it was better to be nursed by someone whose opinion does not matter to you.
Finally Radnor was in the room he would occupy for the next days, perhaps weeks, possibly even in which he would die. Hester suggested that Adrienne wait until he was settled, and then come to wish him goodbye, for the time being.
‘Oh, no,’ Adrienne said immediately. ‘I must come with him. I will make sure that everything is as he likes it.’
Hester stood in front of her on the threshold, and spoke quietly but firmly. ‘It was not a suggestion, Miss Radnor.’ She spoke very softly and with her back to Bryson Radnor. ‘We will look after him, and start treatment as soon as we can. You will be in the way. Please don’t argue. Time is important.’
Adrienne hesitated. The fear in her eyes was momentarily undisguised.
‘But he needs me!’ Her voice trembled. ‘You don’t understand . . .’
Hester was blunt. ‘Dr Rand will not proceed until all other people are out of the room. How long do you wish to hold him up?’
Adrienne let out a sigh. Then she took a step backwards.
Hester touched her gently on the arm. ‘We will do everything we can for him. Don’t lose hope.’
Adrienne nodded, the tears spilling over on to her cheeks.
‘Go home,’ Hester advised her. ‘It will be a while. We will send a message if there should be anything urgent.’
‘Can’t I wait . . . somewhere?’
‘Yes. But it is uncomfortable and you will be both tired and hungry.’
‘I don’t care!’
‘We do,’ Hester told her. ‘If Mr Radnor recovers, he will need you to be well and strong in order to nurse him back to full health. He will be in no position to look after you. This is a time to be strong.’
Very slowly Adrienne acquiesced. She turned and walked away, a stiff-shouldered solitary figure moving all the way down the hall until she was just a silhouette against the daylight, and finally disappeared.
Hester followed Radnor and Magnus Rand into the room that was to serve both as treatment theatre and bedroom as long as he needed it. The bed was ready and beside it was a large contraption, the top of it shoulder high. It was constructed largely of bottles and tubes held in exact place with clamps, springs and hinged metal arms.
Radnor stared at it, but if it alarmed him he hid the fact superbly. He made no comment as the porters lifted him on to the bed and then, on being told by Magnus that they were not needed any further, they excused themselves and left.
Magnus busied himself with the contraption.
Hester assisted Radnor out of his clothes and into a long, white nightshirt. She had done such a thing countless times before, usually to soldiers who were either very seriously wounded, or exhausted from debilitating disease such as typhus or cholera. She was used to bodily functions both natural and those produced by disease. She had seen men naked and in terrible distress. She had watched people die when there was no time to mourn. She knew that action could protect against the utter helplessness, and keep panic or despair at bay.
Bryson Radnor had never been assisted by a woman he did not know since he had left childhood behind. It embarrassed him, which made him angry, and yet he could not lift his own limbs to dress himself without her help.
She would like to have told him that he should feel no self-consciousness. She had no personal interest in him whatever. But that would have been unprofessional, especially in front of Dr Rand. Very possibly it was all an alternative to showing the fear that must be flooding his every thought at the moment. She was alive and well. He was dying. Those were the only facts that mattered.
