Hope (52 page)

Of course she wasn’t including Bennett in that, she thought she could spend every hour of every day with him without feeling irritated or bored. But then he had a wonderful talent for sensing when she wanted to be quiet, or if she was in the mood for noise and chatter. Hope thought he was probably the most perfect husband in the whole world.

At times she had despaired of them ever getting married, for it was four years since her eighteenth birthday when he’d bought her the engagement ring. He’d told her that day that he was thinking about becoming a regimental doctor, but she hadn’t taken it very seriously. Yet he had been serious – just six months later he joined the illustrious Rifle Brigade as an assistant surgeon, and she thought she might lose him then for his regiment kept moving – Winchester, Canada and finally off to South Africa for the Kaffir war – making it impossible to see him.

Hope moved to Bristol’s new General Hospital in Guinea Street to nurse there. Bennett wrote to her constantly, funny, warm letters which made her love for him grow even stronger. But the post was slow and unreliable, especially once he was in South Africa, so sometimes months went past without one letter, then six or seven might arrive all at once.

There had been some very low points over the last four years. The loneliness was almost crippling at times, particularly when Bennett went to Canada and she moved to the General Hospital where she knew no one.

Back at St Peter’s, she’d had the company of the young mothers in her ward, and some of these had become good enough friends for her to visit them in their homes on her day off. But at the General Hospital she was in the male surgical ward, and the ward sister there was a dragon of a woman who belittled Hope constantly, watched her like a hawk for any kind of familiarity with the patients, and made each day seem endless.

It was good to be in a better hospital, but Hope found herself to be an anomaly there. She had far superior nursing skills and medical knowledge to the ladies who worked charitably as volunteer nurses, but she wasn’t of their class. And the nurses from her own background appeared to resent her because she wasn’t quite one of them either. Missing Bennett, afraid that the day would never come when she’d be his wife, and frustrated that the vast majority of people saw nursing as a lowly profession, there wasn’t much to cheer her. Often she felt she was trapped on a kind of treadmill going now here.

But in January 1854 Bennett had come back to England, insisting they get married as soon as they could arrange it.

He had changed a great deal during his time in South Africa. Aside from his bronzed face, sun-bleached hair and more muscular body from regular riding, he was also much more assertive, confident and worldly. He’d learned a lot from older regimental doctors and had become used to performing quite complicated surgery under primitive conditions, and to running his own field hospital. Living and working in an all-male environment had toughened him up, and he was no longer concerned what his uncle’s opinion might be on how he should live his life.

Hope had seen Dr Cunningham many times while Bennett was away, both at St Peter’s and then in the General. He had been very frosty at first as he clearly blamed her for his nephewleaving his practice. But maybe Alice had been working on him, for he gradually began to soften about a year later, and he would stop to talk when he saw her.

Yet it was only last year that he had finally admitted he thought she was a fine nurse, and that Bennett could do a lot worse than marry her. Hope might have been offended by that remark, but she often called to see Alice on her day off, who told her the old doctor spoke about her in glowing terms. Hope sensed that he would still have preferred his nephew to be married to someone who would enhance his career, but if he did think that, he didn’t voice it. He even suggested that she should leave the General immediately and come to live at Harley Place until the wedding as there were so many preparations to be made.

They were married just a stone’s throw from Harley Place, at Christchurch, in early February, a bitterly cold day with snowthreatening. Alice had made Hope a wedding outfit, a deep pink wool dress with a fashionable bustle, and a matching hooded cape trimmed with fur.

There were only a few guests: Alice and her sister Violet, Dr Cunningham and a few old friends of Bennett’s, including Mary Carpenter. Hope would have given anything to have had her brothers and sisters there too on such an important day, but as it simply wasn’t possible she tried hard not to think of them.

As they set off to Lyme Regis for their honeymoon, Bennett said he thought that as soon as possible they should go and visit Ruth and her husband in Bath. He believed that if Hope explained everything to them, they could decide how to let the rest of the family know so that Albert couldn’t take it out on Nell.

Dr Cunningham had lent them his carriage to take them to Lyme Regis, and with a hot brick beneath her feet, a warm rug snuggled round her, and her husband beside her, Hope was so happy that she didn’t want to think of anything serious. She’d been away for seven years now, and a few more weeks wouldn’t make any difference to her family problems.

Hope knew that whatever great age she lived to, she would never forget her wedding night. Their room in a guest house overlooking the sea had been so warm and inviting. There was a roaring fire, thick brocade curtains shutting out the cold night air, a four-poster bed, and a candle lit and a round table laid ready for their supper.

They had drunk brandy on the way to keep warm, and by the time they’d drunk a bottle of wine with supper Hope was very tipsy. She remembered how Bennett had undressed her, fumbling hopelessly with the laces on her stays, and how she’d been every bit as eager as him to make love.

He kissed the red marks on her body from her tight stays and murmured that they weren’t to be put on again for the whole of their honeymoon. He told her too that while he was in South Africa he used to dream about her naked, but that she was a hundred times more beautiful then he’d expected.

She had thought she’d be frightened and embarrassed, and she was convinced it was going to hurt, but from the moment he lifted her up in his arms and laid her on the bed, eagerly jumping in beside her, all those thoughts vanished. He was too tender and gentle to hurt her, and he explored her with such obvious delight that she found it thrilling rather than embarrassing. She was rather surprised at herself for being so wanton, arching herself against him, begging for more, but as this appeared to increase his passion she didn’t attempt to curb her own and became completely abandoned.

She recalled how she woke before Bennett in the morning, and for a moment didn’t know where she was. Later, she was to tell Bennett it was like dying and waking up in heaven: the soft warm bed, the peace of the house, and the sound of waves crashing on to the shore below the windows.

What she didn’t tell him though was how she lay watching him sleep. She had never seen him asleep before, and his features which often looked so stern had become so much softer and boyish.

The hot sun in South Africa had given him little crow’s feet around his eyes, which gave the impression he was smiling. He had shaved off his moustache for the wedding, and his lips, which had been partially concealed before, were full, beautifully shaped, and so very kissable.

Until that moment she’d had nothing but hatred for Albert, but it suddenly struck her that but for his cruelty, she would never have met Bennett.

Time had not erased the hideousness of that period of her life. The hunger, squalor and desperation she felt then would never leave her. She could still picture Gussie and Betsy in the throes of that terrible disease, and the relief she’d felt when Bennett had arrived to help her.

She had been so naive then that she hadn’t realized just how remarkable it was that a doctor had turned up. It was of course Mary Carpenter’s intervention that had brought it about, but even so, once at St Peter’s she soon discovered that even that particular benefactor of the poor could not have induced any other doctor to go into Lewins Mead. Later, she’d been told that only a handful of doctors in Bristol had used their skills to help victims of the cholera epidemic. Many were so frightened of catching it themselves that they’d shamelessly left the city with their wives and children, and did not return until it was all over.

Bennett didn’t look like a hero, in truth his mild manner and slender build would suggest that he was a clerk or an assistant in a bookshop. But he had hidden depths; his was the quiet kind of courage, doing what he knew to be right, using his medical skills not to advance himself, but for the good of mankind. He was also so loving, kind and fun to be with, and, now she had discovered, such a good lover. She thought that if she was ever to see Albert again she would tell him she was grateful to him for packing her off to meet such a wonderful man.

That morning as she lay there admiring her brand-new husband, she was also excited and curious about the life they would have together. After a week’s honeymoon they would be going to live at the barracks in Winchester and she’d be an army wife.

Alice had overseen her wardrobe, and to Hope it seemed ridiculously extravagant. Four new day dresses, two evening gowns, shoes, heaps of petticoats and other underwear, bonnets and a thick winter cloak, all packed into a shiny new trunk. But Alice, aided and abetted by Bennett, insisted it was very important that she project the right image. Not quite so grand as the other officers’ wives of course, for although Bennett was technically an officer, being non-combatant he was a lesser being, but she had to be distinct from the other ranks’ wives. And as she would have a servant at Winchester, she’d have to learn to behave as if this was something she was used to.

Hope had laughed at that. She couldn’t possibly imagine ordering someone to wash her clothes, cook a meal or clean up after her. But Alice had reprimanded her and reminded her that the servant would be a soldier’s wife, and if she didn’t learn to be firm, the chances were the woman would take advantage of her, and Hope would become a laughing stock.

Hope had already got the idea that most soldiers’ wives were like Betsy, colourful, noisy and a bit wild, but then Betsy had always been proud that Hope was educated and more ladylike than she was. Would she and Gussie have been horrified at her becoming a nurse? She could almost see Betsy shaking her head in bewilderment and claiming her friend wasn’t right in the head!

But they would certainly be overjoyed that she’d married Bennett. Betsy would give her that knowing look she’d had and tell her she wasn’t a girl any more but a real woman.

In the days that followed, Hope felt she really had become a grown woman. She felt confident in her lovely new clothes, and the genteel and demure manner appropriate for a doctor’s wife seemed to come easily to her. Yet it was something of a shock to find she could be so lusty. Even as they were eating a meal in a restaurant or braving the high winds along the seafront, she could think of little else but lovemaking. Once out of sight of passers-by she kept making Bennett kiss her, pressing herself up against him wantonly. One day on a walk along the clifftop, she took his hand and put it up her skirt. If Bennett had taken her there and then on the grass, she would have been delighted. As it was, they could hardly wait to get back to their room and devour each other.

‘Do you think all married couples are like this?’ she asked Bennett on the last night of their honeymoon. In the morning they were due to go back to Winchester, and they were reluctant to go to sleep, as if they thought they would never get a chance to make love again.

‘I suppose some must be,’ he said with a wide grin. ‘But I don’t think many of the officers I know are so lucky. Their wives look like they’d avoid it at all costs.’

‘Well, maybe the officers aren’t very good at loving,’ she said, sitting astride Bennett and putting his hand on her breasts. ‘Maybe they all do it like that ship’s captain that Betsy went with. It put her off!’

Bennett laughed. Throughout the week, Hope had taken a great deal of pleasure in relating many bawdy little stories told to her by patients, women she’d known in Lewins Mead and by Betsy. It gave her a thrill being able to share such things with a man. Bennett enjoyed them too, and in turn told her some from men he knew. ‘But I don’t want you giving out instructions on such things in Winchester,’ he said with mock severity. ‘A great many of the army wives are very prim, and I don’t want them gossiping about you.’

‘Then we’d better hope we don’t get given a bed with squeaky springs,’ she said, leaning forward and covering his face with kisses. ‘Because, my darling husband, I intend to have my wicked way with you every night!’

Hope reminded Bennett of that remark as they stood by the ship’s rail looking out to sea. She had been appalled to see their bunk beds were so tiny, though she had no intention of sleeping in one alone. ‘Do you think we’ll even get a bed where we’re going?’ she asked. ‘I heard someone say we’ll be sleeping in tents!’

‘That might well be true,’ he replied. ‘I saw a great many being loaded, and I took the precaution of packing two camp beds. But then this whole campaign is a rum do – no one, not even the COs, seem to know exactly where we’re bound. I’ve heard Malta, and Constantinople, but what we’ll do when we get there is anyone’s guess.’

For months now the newspapers had been getting themselves into a stewabout the trouble between the Turks and the Russians. As far as Hope could understand, it had all started in Bethlehem, over a church which had been built on the site where Jesus was born. The Catholics and the Russian Orthodox clerics had both laid claim to it, and then the Turks, who had been rowing with Russia for years, joined in.

Even before Bennett came home in January there was talk of England and France supporting Turkey if there was a war. England didn’t want Russia gaining control over the Black Sea as it was an important trade route. But overall there was a general opinion that Russia was overdue for a good thrashing, and no one seemed to knowor care what it would be for.