A HAZARD OF HEARTS (32 page)

Elly inclined her head with a smile. ‘Indeed, I
hope so.’ She gathered her skirts and he rose to draw back her chair.

Having arranged prior payment for the meal, she
moved quickly to the stairs, accepting his arm as support, but careful to
maintain distance between them. She climbed into the closed carriage waiting
outside, trusting her escort would keep to his own seat. During the short
journey uphill to the hospital Cornwallis spoke of commonplace matters until they
arrived at the gate in the wall, where he assisted Elly to alight. She would
have dismissed him then but somehow found herself accompanied to the main door.

When she held out her hand he folded it between
his own, saying deliberately, ‘I shall not conceal from you my disappointment
at the loss of your company, especially as you have not been averse to spending
a whole day in the company of Mr Gascoigne.’

Astonished, Elly replied, ‘That was weeks ago. I’ve
had no social engagements since the New Year – although I fail to see what
concern it is of yours, Mr Cornwallis.’

His gaze intensified while he tightened his
grip, almost crushing her fingers. ‘You cannot fail to be aware of my regard,
my deepest admiration. You’re a lovely woman, Eleanor, and I must know you
better. No more avoidance. I will not accept a refusal.’

She looked at the closed door with longing,
knowing her key lay buried in her reticule and the porter had gone off duty.
She tried to tug free. ‘Mr Cornwallis, pray... You embarrass me. I had no
idea... Of course I have a regard for you, but –’

‘You’re most attractive when you’re provoked, my
dear. I’m all admiration.’ His arm went around her waist, pinning her to him.

The unexpected change to lechery caught her off
guard. His face, distorted with sudden passion, loomed far too close for
comfort, his gaze burned with an almost tangible heat. Warring emotions held
her speechless. The satiric mouth smiled and, overcome by sudden loathing, she
struck at his imprisoning arm.

‘Let me go. How dare you treat me like some
street drab.’

His grip tightened. Now his full-lipped mouth
hovered over hers, their breaths mingling. His voice, also, had changed, harsh,
stripped of deference, thick with nuance.

‘You mistake me, my dear. I treat whores quite
differently. You, I fancy, are more than a cut or two above such creatures.’

Was this a nightmare, after all? Elly wondered.
Would she wake thankfully at any moment in her bed? It couldn’t be D’Arcy
Cornwallis addressing her in such a way.

Straining her head back, she said with as much
dignity as she could, ‘I had hoped that a gentleman would recognise a lady by
her behaviour, Mr Cornwallis. Kindly release me at once.’

His laughter jeered at her. ‘A lady doesn’t dip
her hands daily in filth and disease. No, my dear, you make a brave show, but
you’ve stepped down into the lower echelons of public entertainers and other
working class women. You’re available, and believe me, I’m more than willing to
make our liaison worthwhile to you.’

Elly gaped. A moment later he had tilted her
chin to fasten his mouth on hers, hard, hurtfully, allowing her no opportunity
to protest. Elly was suffocating. Restrained by a strength such as she’d never
imagined, she was powerless and afraid for the first time, crushed,
immobilised, her mouth ravaged ruthlessly. When he suddenly let her go she fell
back against the door, fingers to her bruised lips, too breathless to find
words to hurl at him.

A second later he landed hard against the wall
beside her, his grunt of surprise followed by an oath. Before he could
straighten up Paul was upon him, gripping him by the coat lapels as he dragged
him down the steps into the courtyard.

‘You bastard! How dare you touch her!’ Paul’s
fist met Cornwallis’ jaw with a terrific crack and he went down, sprawled
across the flags to lie still. Paul bounded up the steps to Elly. ‘Are you all
right? Did he hurt you?’

Elly shook her head. ‘My self-esteem is wounded,
nothing else. Thank Heaven you appeared when you did.’

He turned her to the light above the door and
examined her face, his eyes blazing. ‘He did hurt you. Your lip is cut.’

Frightened by his expression, she said hastily, ‘It’s
nothing. Paul...’ She began to tremble and was grateful when his arms came
around her in comforting support.

‘It’s all right, Elly. Just reaction.’ He
glanced down at Cornwallis, still lying on the pavement. ‘I must have hit him
harder than I thought.’ He sounded quite happy about it.

‘I’d better see –’ Elly began, but Paul held her
back.

‘Let him lie for the moment. I’d have intervened
earlier if I hadn’t been some distance away, enjoying a pipe while I waited for
you. J.G. said you were worried about me.’

Elly gently withdrew from his hold. Her poise
had returned, and with it the memory of their last encounter, as well as his avoidance
of her for so long.

‘I was concerned because you’d been gone for so
many weeks, with no word. I’m glad you’re back safely.’ She glanced down at
Cornwallis, now struggling to his feet, supporting his swelling jaw. Her anger
flared up, cooled only slightly by the spectacle of Cornwallis’ humiliation.

But the man who stood glaring at her was not a
figure to be mocked. Violence emanated from him in almost visible waves. His
shoulder muscles bunched under his coat as he lurched forward into the light.
Elly shrank against the door, while Paul moved in front of her, his fists
clenched. Cornwallis maintained his gaze for a long moment, then turned and
limped out the gate to his carriage.

Haunted by the man’s malignant expression, Elly
said, ‘Paul, did you see his face? It was evil.’

‘We’ve made a bad enemy there,’ he agreed. ‘Guard
your back from now on at the Board Meetings.’

Elly decided not to think about that until she
had to. She’d born enough for one night. ‘You be careful, too. Don’t go down
any dark alleys alone. I’m not being melodramatic. I truly believe he’s capable
of anything.’

Relaxed now, Paul took her reticule from her and
extracted her key. ‘I’ll keep it in mind. Now, you’ve had a trying evening and
should be in bed. I called only to reassure you of my safety. I’ll bore you
with my traveller’s tales some other time.’ He opened the door, giving her the
key. ‘Sleep well, Elly, and don’t trouble your head over that brute. We can
deal with him.’

‘I hope so. Thank you for the rescue, Paul.’

He kissed her cheek then left, collecting his
hat at the bottom of the steps and closing the gate in the wall behind him.

Elly bolted the door, taking the stairs slowly,
like an invalid, she thought, determined to do her last round of the wards
before going to bed. Her lip stung, her bruised ribs protested and her brain
felt battered by a jumble of thoughts and questions, too much to sort out
tonight. She’d think about it all tomorrow.

Elly’s contact with the male wards remained
limited, but she had introduced a stratagem of her own for any patient about to
undergo surgery, ensuring that once delivered to the theatre he was bathed by
her in carbolic solution and rendered as clean as possible before the surgeon
arrived. However, this, together with her increased hours outside the hospital
meant she was overworked, and Jo-Beth decided to offer her services for
preparation in the theatre.

She surprised Elly at her desk, chin on hands,
staring out the window at a vista of ragged cloud. The sun had played
hide-and-seek since dawn, and winter had laid its finger on the town. Children
scuffed through the fallen leaves, playing running games to warm themselves,
while their elders moved briskly along the street below.

Elly spoke without turning her head. ‘Look out
there. The year has turned and we are into our second without having achieved
anything worthy of notice. It’s been such a struggle, for so little.’

Jo-Beth patted her friend’s shoulder.

‘You’ve achieved more than you realize. The
whole atmosphere of this hospital has changed for the better. You’ve banished
dirt and slovenliness and introduced hope, Elly. People don’t come here as a
last resort; they know they will be cared for. That’s something to be proud of.’

‘I suppose so. You’re right. I must banish
depression before it blights anyone else.’ She rose. ‘I should be in the
theatre in ten minutes.’

‘Let me help, Elly. Surely I can carry out the
preparation if you instruct me.’ Jo-Beth searched her friend’s worn face with
concern. Elly hesitated only a moment. ‘I’d be very glad of your help. But...
are you sure? It would involve handling male patients.’

Jo-Beth said airily, ‘Sedated male patients. I
can manage them.’

Down in the theatre the man waited, buckled to
the table. He regarded the two women with the terrified eyes of a bolting
horse, every muscle in his body straining against the straps. Jo-Beth’s gaze,
however, was riveted to his naked body. Her face hot, she moved quickly to the
bench to pour carbolic into a bowl of instruments. Elly, who always knew the
name of the theatre patient, tried to reassure him while she raised his head to
help him drink from a flask.

‘Mr Brown, I see you’ve already imbibed rum. Now
here is laudanum to further dull your senses. Try not to be afraid. Mr Wykeham
is a good swift surgeon. The tumour will be removed from your groin and you’ll
be back in the ward in no time at all.’ She beckoned to Jo-Beth to fetch a bowl
and cloths to the table.

Jo-Beth obeyed, reluctantly, keeping her head
averted.

Elly said, surprised, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. Will you wash the patient?’

‘We’ll both do it. I want to demonstrate how
thoroughly this must be done, particularly in the operative area. You begin
with the head.’

She must not be silly, Jo-Beth told herself. She
would be controlled and serene, like Elly. He was only a man – a human being in
need.

They worked together down the man’s body. As the
sedative mixed with the alcohol already in his system it began to take effect.
He gave a loud snort and Jo-Beth looked up to see a maudlin smile replace the
terror in his features as he said suddenly, ‘Pretty hair.’

Jo-Beth jumped. The flaccid lump of muscle under
her hand twitched and began to swell. She hurriedly let go, watching in growing
horror as it rose even higher, until it seemed to point straight at her, a
great red finger of pulsating flesh. She stepped back from the table, dropping
her cloth.

‘Elly.’ She swallowed then tried again. ‘Elly,
something’s wrong.’

‘What is it?’ Elly’s quick glance appraised the
situation. After an obvious struggle, she dissolved into laughter. ‘Oh,
Jo-Beth. Have you never seen a naked man before?’

Hanging her head, Jo-Beth whispered, ‘Never.’
Her cheeks felt like beacons. She’d have given anything to rush out the door
and hide the evidence of her extreme embarrassment.

The patient tittered then began humming
untunefully. But when she forced herself to look at him, Jo-Beth realised he
was unaware of her, wandering in a half-drunken world where his fear was
masked, if not laid to rest.

Elly controlled her laughter, although her eyes
still sparkled. ‘I’m sorry, Jo-Beth. Under the circumstances, naturally the
patient’s tumescence has come as a shock. However, you have to understand that
it’s a natural reaction to your touching him, even when he’s only half awake. A
nurse who works out in the community grows accustomed to dealing with the other
sex. It’s one of the reasons why nurses are so lowly regarded, because we will
put aside our gentility and see the patient as someone in need, not a
particular man or woman.’

She’s right, thought Jo-Beth. This was not the
time or place for maidenly modesty. She picked up the fallen cloth, dipped it
in the carbolic solution and wrung it out, then set to work resolutely. This
would be the cleanest patient ever to pass into Mr Wykeham’s not-so-clean
hands.

As she worked, Jo-Beth’s dilemma returned to the
forefront of her mind, and she burst out with it. ‘Elly, I need to talk to
someone.’

Elly merely nodded and began cleaning
instruments, while Jo-Beth continued. ‘I feel such a fool, as well as disloyal
to Ethan. Yet I can’t go on forever marking time in the hospital, waiting,
hoping, fearing. It tears me in two.’

‘You wanted a miracle, Jo-Beth.’

‘Yes. I wore out my knees pleading with God to
restore my love, but He’s failed me. Maybe I’m simply not worthy.’

Elly turned on her. ‘Never say that! Never. I
forbid you to denigrate yourself in the name of religion. You are as fine a
friend as anyone could hope for; you’re compassionate; you do your best for the
patients; you’ve survived all your difficulties with dignity. You deserve
happiness.’

‘Why, Elly... Thank you. You know what I’m about
to tell you, don’t you?’

‘You’ve decided to marry Alan McAndrews. I
approve.’

‘He’s not Ethan. He’s not in any way like him.
But he’s kind and thoughtful, and he loves me. Of course, his wealth and
position are not to be sneered at.’ Her self-derogatory tone evoked an
immediate response.