‘I will take you,’ Hester responded. ‘Come with me. Is he expecting you?’

  ‘No, but I have to see him.’

  ‘Come,’ Hester said again. ‘Please . . .’

  The woman kept step with her, almost crowding her in her urgency. In a few yards they reached Magnus Rand’s door, which was now closed.

  Hester knocked on it firmly. When she heard Magnus’s voice, even though she did not hear what he said, she turned the handle and went in, ushering Adrienne Radnor to come in beside her.

  At the intrusion Magnus Rand looked up from his desk, a flush of anger darkening his face. Then he saw Adrienne Radnor and instinctively recognised her desperation.

  ‘Dr Rand?’ she said shakily. Her voice was husky, uncertain, but there was a quality of hysteria in it that impelled her forward, regardless of what he would say. She took a step towards his desk, ignoring Hester. ‘Dr Rand, my father, Bryson Radnor, is terribly ill. Indeed he is dying.’ Her voice trembled and it took all her self-mastery to continue. ‘He has the “white blood disease” you have written about. You are our last hope . . .’

  Hester looked from Magnus to Adrienne and back again. She saw an extraordinary change come over him. The irritation was smoothed away like creases under a hot iron. It was replaced by an intense pity; then that too vanished as a sudden energy filled him.

  ‘Tell me more, Miss Radnor. When did you first recognise the illness in him? Be as precise as you can. I’m sorry, please sit down.’ He rose hastily from his chair and hurried around the desk to pull forward a seat for her, completely ignoring Hester.

  Adrienne barely took time to arrange her fashionable, autumnal-shaded skirts, which so complemented her colouring. She sat a trifle awkwardly, leaning forward towards him. ‘I can remember the day very well. It was two months ago. Papa had been growing weaker for a period of time. At first the doctors thought it was just weariness. My father is over sixty and he insists on behaving as if he were a young man.’ She gave a slight smile but it vanished in an instant. ‘He travelled extensively. He was always very vigorous in his pursuits, climbing mountains, riding for days on horseback. He attended the opera and the theatre, visited Paris, Rome, Madrid.’ There was pride in her voice. ‘It was not foolish to wonder if perhaps a long rest would do him good.’

  ‘And did it?’ Magnus enquired with interest. His eyes were intent upon hers, and his expression very grave.

  She lowered her gaze and her answer was almost a whisper. ‘At first it seemed to, but I fear now that we saw only what we wished to see. He is failing very rapidly. Unless you are willing to help him, I think he has only weeks left.’

  ‘I must consult my brother,’ Magnus said with unusual gentleness.

  Adrienne leaned even further forward. ‘My father is a man of very considerable means, Dr Rand. He would be well able to recompense you for your skill, and to meet any expenses you might incur in treating him. Surely that is worth something?’

  Hester winced at the words, and yet in the young woman’s place she might have said the same thing, clumsy as it was.

  Magnus brushed it aside.

  ‘I will not take your money, Miss Radnor, unless I am certain that we have some chance of helping your father. I must still consult my brother. He is a chemist of more than skill – of brilliance – and it is his experiments that give us hope that we can cure this, and perhaps many other diseases.’

  ‘Then call him!’ she begged. ‘Call anyone, only please do not delay.’

  Magnus looked up at Hester. ‘Mrs Monk, you have heard Miss Radnor’s plight, and that of her father. Please inform my brother of the situation and ask him if he will be good enough to lay aside whatever he is doing at present and come to my office so he can ask whatever he needs to of Miss Radnor, and reach some decision.’

  ‘Yes, Dr Rand,’ Hester said willingly, and turned to leave.

  She was not accustomed to going to Hamilton Rand’s laboratory. It was closed to the hospital staff for excellent reasons. It was full of chemicals that were highly likely to be harmful if touched, mixed or spilled, and of experiments that could be ruined if disturbed. Hester believed it was also because Hamilton Rand did not wish his work to be interrupted for anything short of the building being on fire. But now she had no choice.

  She walked quickly, without distraction. She hurried past other nurses barely acknowledging them. She did not even glance at storerooms, other wards, even operating theatres. When she reached the laboratory door she knocked on it firmly and loudly.

  There was no answer.

  She knocked again, harder.

  Still there was no response.

  Hamilton Rand spent most of his time here, not only all day but frequently most of the evening. He had been known to work all night, which had earned him both fear and respect.

  Hester was moved not so much by concern for Magnus as pity for Adrienne Radnor. She understood painfully well her deep love for her father and the desire to save him at almost any cost. The guilt still ached within Hester for her own father whom she had not been there to save. She had been fighting her own battles for independence and purpose as an army nurse in the Crimea when her father had been dishonoured by a brutal trick, and had taken his own life. If she had come home even a month or two earlier she might have prevented the tragedy that had driven him to such a thing. That would have spared the whole family. For her mother, the loss of a son in battle, followed by financial ruin and then the death of her husband had been too much. Her health could take no more. James, Hester’s younger brother, had done all he could, but it was beyond his power to help.

  Hester had no option but to override good manners. She turned the handle and opened the door. The laboratory was a very large room, as large as a ward, but there were no beds in it. Shelves and cupboards lined all the walls. In the centre were benches with sinks and racks of all manner of scientific instruments: glass tubes, bottles, retorts, individual gas burners and other contraptions whose use she could only guess.

  Hamilton Rand was only about eight feet from the door. He stood rigid, his face like a wedge of ice, his white cotton coat splashed with chemicals and what looked to be blood.

  ‘What do you imagine you are doing here, woman?’ he demanded. ‘How dare you barge in and interrupt me? Get out!’

  Hester straightened her shoulders and stared back at him. Doctors did not frighten her, chemists still less.

  ‘I came to deliver a message to you from Dr Rand,’ she replied levelly. ‘He requests your presence in his office to consult a young woman whose father is dying of the white blood disease. He is desperate, and has the financial means to pay you for any cure you are willing to try. Dr Rand does not wish to take the decision without consulting you.’ She said it with some satisfaction in telling him because she knew he would not resist the temptation. Even in the short time she had been here, his devotion to science had become clear to her. He spared neither himself nor others in the search for healing.

  He put the dish he was holding down on the nearside bench. ‘Then move out of the way, woman!’ he ordered. ‘We must see this patient at once.’

  He looked her up and down. He was not a tall man, and she was close to his height.

  ‘What are you?’ he asked, frowning at her. He had seen her before only a day ago, but had instantly forgotten.

  ‘A nurse,’ she replied equally stiffly.

  ‘Ah!’ There was light in his eyes. ‘Yes. Now I remember Magnus telling me about you. Come with me. Don’t stand here wasting time!’ He brushed past her and she stepped aside out of his way to avoid being knocked down. She swivelled round and followed him briskly back down the long corridors all the way to Magnus’s office.

  He flung the door open without asking. Adrienne Radnor was still sitting in the chair and she had the composure not to rise as he came in, announcing himself brusquely.

  Magnus introduced her and she answered as calmly as she could, but Hester heard the tremor in her voice. For her Hamilton Rand was far more than a brilliant and ill-mannered chemist. He represented the hope of life for the father she clearly loved profoundly.

  Hamilton turned to Hester. ‘You wait there,’ he ordered her. ‘And close the door, for God’s sake! Do you expect this young woman to tell me all her father’s symptoms with the whole world listening in?’

  ‘Mrs Monk,’ Magnus interrupted, ‘you may return to your regular duties. Thank you.’

  ‘No, you may not!’ Hamilton snapped. ‘Stay where you are, and listen.’ He completely ignored his brother but turned more gently to Adrienne. ‘I have asked Mrs Monk to remain because she was an army nurse. That means she has great experience in treating men who have been badly injured and lost much blood. She thinks quickly and does not panic. If we take your case, she will nurse your father. Now tell me everything I need to know. And the truth, if you please. The exact truth as much as you know it. Our ability to help him depends upon it.’

  Adrienne obeyed without hesitation, and Magnus only occasionally interrupted. As Hamilton asked questions and made brief notes Hester listened with professional interest and intense personal compassion.

  ‘My mother died eleven years ago,’ Adrienne said quietly in answer to Hamilton’s question. ‘She had been failing for a little while, then she caught pneumonia and within days she was gone.’ There was no expression to her voice. The loss was old and she was only remembering how she had felt.

  ‘Your father’s health?’ Hamilton returned her to the only subject that interested him.

  ‘Oh, it was excellent,’ she said with a quick smile, which vanished even more rapidly. ‘We supported each other. I went with him on some of his travels.’ Her voice thickened with unshed tears. ‘It was marvellous. He was interested in everything. He showed me so much . . .’ She blinked quickly several times, and went on before Hamilton could prompt her. ‘He did not become ill until three years ago, and at first it seemed to pass after a short rest. He always had so much energy . . .’

  Hamilton was busy making notes. He looked up, waiting.

  ‘Then he began to tire more easily. He tried to hide it, but I noticed.’ She went on to describe his gradual decline, pain naked in her face.

  Hester listened as she described the pain, the unexplained bleeding he tried at first to conceal, then her horror when at last it was too much to hide from her.

  ‘He had once been so strong,’ she said. ‘So vibrant and passionate a man, a force few would dare to challenge. Now he is scarcely able even to feed himself, let alone fight the final battle without me by his side. I try to make myself hope, but I am beginning to fail in that. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend to believe he will recover.’

  Hester could imagine it so clearly it was as if she had been in the room with them. What treatment had they tried? No doubt Rand would ask Miss Radnor all of that.

  She went on listening as arrangements were made for Bryson Radnor to be brought to the hospital the following day. Hester watched Adrienne rise a little shakily, express her thanks yet again, and walk with dignity out of the office and down the corridor towards the way out. Refusing to accept the task of giving whatever assistance she could did not even enter Hester’s mind. It would still mean very long hours for her, but daytime rather than night. They would have people around to cover the nights, until Jenny Solway returned.

  She went back to the ward and encountered Sherryl O’Neill at the door.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ Sherryl demanded. ‘Angus McLeod’s much improved. I wanted to tell you. He’s asking for you. Sitting up!’ Her face shone with her pleasure at the news. McLeod had lost a leg and the wound had bled badly. For a while it had seemed beyond their ability to save his life.

  ‘He’s still pretty weak,’ Sherryl warned, falling in step with Hester as they moved between the beds, ‘but he’s full of hope.’ They exchanged glances, and Hester understood all that the other woman was not saying, as well. Nursing was moment to moment. One accepted the good and learned from it but took very little for granted.

  ‘I won’t be here tomorrow night,’ she said quietly. ‘There’s a new patient coming in. By the time I’ve finished with him, I think Jenny will be back. Thank you for your companionship.’

  Sherryl looked startled, and then put out her hand with sudden warmth. ‘It was a pleasure. Some of your stories of the army made me realise how lucky I am to be here at peace, and yet I also feel as if I missed something.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Hester said with a lop-sided smile. ‘You’ll get plenty of other tasks.’

  Hester went home immediately and tried to go to bed, since it was now early evening. But she had prepared herself to be on duty all night, and sleep was elusive. She lay still only so she would not disturb Monk beside her. She had not told him the reason for her change of duty. He had more than enough to worry about with the rearrangements necessary when Orme finally retired. He was pleased that she was working the same sort of hours as he was. At least they were together all night, a warmth and a sweetness that he valued more than he was willing to admit.

  In the morning Hester was in Magnus Rand’s office when Adrienne Radnor arrived with her father. Hester looked at Radnor with intense interest and a pity she found it difficult to conceal. Nature had designed him to be a big man, physically imposing, but now he was gaunt. His broad shoulders and deep chest were painfully bony, his arms limp by his sides where he lay on the palet on which he had been carried. His powerful face, with its aquiline nose and wide, thin-lipped mouth, registered rage at this present dependence upon others for his mere ability to move from one place to another. He must have been magnificent in the days of his health.

  Adrienne was at his side, far more soberly dressed than the day before. Her skirt was of a brown so dark as to be almost black and she wore a very plain blouse, which looked drab in the bright August sun that streamed through the office windows. But nothing would dull the burning colour of her hair.

  The porters who had carried Radnor set him down on a long couch in the office frequently used for patients who were too unwell to walk. At a nod from Magnus they left, closing the door behind them.

  ‘Help me up!’ Radnor said to Adrienne, not even glancing at anyone else.

  Hester was startled at his tone. It was an order, not a request.

  Adrienne moved forward instantly. With a practised gesture she slipped her arm around his shoulders and eased him up.

  Hester passed her two pillows to prop his body at a comfortable angle and stepped back. With a smile of tenderness Adrienne smoothed his hair, which was white but still thick.

  He did not thank her. It was as natural and accepted as if he had done it himself.

  Adrienne stayed beside him, but allowed Radnor to speak to Magnus without her appearing to be between them. Let no one imagine that Bryson Radnor was not still in charge.

  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 Hester 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.’