“Nothing to worry about,” he told her, “just a precaution. We’re staying well out of trouble. Our men are very sharp. They spotted it right off.” She was relieved, but it was unnerving anyway.

Without meaning to share it with him, she let a bit of personal information slip out. “My parents and brother were on the Titanic,” she said softly, and almost shuddered as she said it and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he said kindly. “Nothing like that is going to happen here. Don’t you worry, miss. The captain has everything under control.” But the presence of the minefield in the distance meant another day of crawling through the water. And for the next two days they had to be even more vigilant as the Saxonia approached France.

In the end the trip took seven days. They reached Le Havre at six in the morning, and the ship was tied up to the dock while most of the passengers still slept. Breakfast was to be served at seven, and disembarking passengers were to take the train at nine. The ship was going on to Liverpool after that, since Southampton had been taken over by the military. And on this voyage, they were stopping in France first, as they had been forced considerably off course by the minefields. Annabelle was on the deck fully dressed when they docked. The familiar young officer saw her and came over. She looked excited and wide awake. It was the happiest he had seen her during the trip, and he wondered if her somber aspect had simply been fear of being on the ship, since her relatives had been on one that went down. And the minefields and U-boats had upset them all. Everyone was happy to arrive safely in France.

“Will you be happy to get to Paris?” he asked her pleasantly. It was obvious that she was, and he suddenly wondered if she had a fiancé there. Her smile was wide as she nodded in the early morning sun. She was wearing a hat, but no veil, and he could look right into her blue eyes.

“Yes. But I’m not staying long,” she said simply, and he seemed surprised. No one came to Europe now for a short time, considering the risks involved, and surely not for a brief holiday trip.

“You’re going back?”

“No, I’m not. I’m hoping to work at a hospital north of Paris, about thirty miles from the front.”

“That’s very brave of you,” he said, looking impressed. She was so young and pretty he hated to think of her in the carnage of a hospital near the front, but she was visibly excited by the idea. It explained why she had been reading medical books in her cabin when he had stopped by to see her. “Will you be safe there?” he asked, looking worried, and she smiled.

“Safe enough.” She would have preferred to be at the front, but she had been told that only trained medical and military personnel were allowed to work there. The hospital that had been set up in the Abbaye de Royaumont in Asnières-sur-Oise was more unusual and far more likely to accept her in their midst.

“Will you be going there today?” he asked with interest, and she shook her head.

“I thought I’d spend a night in Paris, and find a way to get there tomorrow.” It was twenty miles north of Paris, and she wasn’t sure what kind of transportation she could arrange.

“You’re very courageous to be traveling alone,” he said admiringly, correctly sensing that she was a woman who had been sheltered and protected all her life, and was not accustomed to fending for herself. But she had no other choice now. Annabelle knew that this was a fresh start for her, or at the very least a time away from the ostracism she had only just begun to taste at home, and could only have gotten worse in time.

The young officer had to tend to his duties then, and Annabelle went back to her stateroom to close her bags. She was ready to go by seven. She thanked the stewardess for her kind attention during the trip, gave her a handsome tip in a discreet envelope, and went to the main dining salon for breakfast. It was the first and only time she had taken a meal in public during the crossing. But everyone was too busy to pay attention to her. They were saying good-bye to new friends, and enjoying a last hearty meal before they left the ship.

Annabelle was one of the first passengers to disembark. And she said good-bye to the young officer when he came to see her off and wish her luck. She boarded the private compartment that had been reserved for her on the train. And she knew these were the last luxuries she would enjoy for a long time. By the next day, with any luck, she would be working hard, and living like all the other medical workers at the Abbey.

She managed her bags herself, and was able to find a cab at the Gare du Nord train station in Paris. She had eaten lunch on the train, and wasn’t hungry, so she went straight to her hotel. She had reserved a room at the Hôtel de Hollande in the ninth arrondissement near Montmartre, and as they drove there, she noticed blue-capped men on bicycles, usually in groups of four, patrolling the city. The terraces had been removed from all cafés, which was a big change from the last time she had seen Paris with her parents as a young girl. She hadn’t been there since she was sixteen. There was an atmosphere of quiet tension here, and she noticed there were hardly any men in the streets. Most of them had been drafted into the military and were fighting for their country and lives at the front, but the city was still as beautiful as she remembered. The Place de la Concorde was as majestic as ever, as was the Champs Élysées. The weather was beautiful, and it was a splendid autumn day as the cab pulled up in front of her hotel.

Not surprisingly, the clerk at the desk was very old, and showed her to her room on the first floor. It was small, but bright and sunny, looking out over the hotel’s garden where chairs had been set up around tables, and a few people were having lunch. She asked him about transportation to Asnières the next day. She wanted to know if it was possible to find her a driver and some sort of vehicle. She spoke to him in the fluent French she had learned from her tutor, as part of a genteel education, which now served her well.

“Why would you want to go there?” he asked with a disapproving frown. It was too close to the front for his taste, but not Annabelle’s. She had discreetly tried to suggest, without being vulgar, that she would pay the driver handsomely for the one-way trip, provided the hospital let her stay, which had yet to be seen. But she was optimistic, and she had her letter of reference from the doctor at Ellis Island in her purse.

“I’m going to the Abbey in Asnières,” she explained.

“It’s not an Abbey anymore,” he informed her. “It’s a hospital, all run by women.”

“I know.” She smiled at him. “That’s why I’m going.”

“You’re a nurse?” She shook her head in answer. He couldn’t help thinking that it was a fine hotel for a nurse to be staying at, but even in her plain clothes, she looked far more aristocratic.

“No, I’m just a medical worker, or whatever they’ll let me do,” she said humbly, and he smiled at her, with a look of amazement.

“You came here to help our boys at the hospital?” This time she nodded without hesitation. He sent dinner to her room that night, with a small bottle of wine that he had been saving for himself. “You are a good woman,” he said to her the next time he saw her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, knowing that all of New York and Newport would have disagreed.

Later, the ancient desk clerk told her that he had asked his nephew to drive her the next day. He had been injured at the front the year before and lost several fingers, but he assured her that Jean-Luc was a good driver, although he apologized that the young man would be driving her to Asnières in a truck. It was the only vehicle they had, and she assured him it would be fine.

She could hardly sleep in her bed at the hotel that night, she was so excited. She had no idea what the next day would have in store for her, or if they’d even let her stay at the Abbey. All she could do was pray that they would.





Chapter 14




Annabelle and the desk clerk’s nephew, Jean-Luc, set out at six o’clock the next morning, as the sun came up over Paris. It was a staggeringly beautiful day, and he told her that there had been a terrible battle at Champagne the day before, and it was still raging. He said it was the second battle they’d had there, and a hundred and ninety thousand men had been killed and wounded. She listened with silent horror, thinking about the enormous numbers. It was inconceivable.

That was precisely why she was there. To help repair their men, and do what she could to save them, if she was able to help them in some way, or comfort them at least. She was wearing a light black wool dress, boots, and black stockings, had all her medical books in her bags, and was carrying a clean white apron in her purse. It was what she had worn at Ellis Island when she worked there, with slightly brighter skirts and dresses when she wasn’t in mourning, as she still was now for her mother. Almost everything she had brought with her to wear was black.

It took them three hours through back roads to get to the hospital. The roads were in bad shape and deeply rutted, with potholes everywhere. No one had time to fix them, and there were no men to do it. Every able-bodied man was in the army, and there was no one left at home to do repairs or maintain the country, except old people, women, children, and the wounded who had been sent home. Annabelle didn’t mind the rough roads as they bounced along in Jean-Luc’s truck, which he told her he normally used to deliver poultry. She smiled when she saw that there were feathers stuck to her valises. She found herself looking down at her hands for a moment, to make sure her nails were cut short enough, and saw the narrow ridge that her wedding band had left. Her heart ached for a minute. She had taken it off in August and still missed it. She had left it in the bank vault in a jewel box, with her engagement ring, which Josiah had insisted that she keep. But she had no time to think of that now.

It was just after nine when they reached the Abbaye de Royaumont, a thirteenth-century abbey, in slight disrepair. It was a beautiful structure with graceful arches, and a pond behind it. The Abbey was bustling with activity. There were nurses in uniforms pushing men in wheelchairs in the courtyard, others hurrying into the various wings of the building, and men being carried on stretchers out of ambulances driven by women. The stretcher-bearers were female too. There were nothing but women working there, including the doctors. The only men she saw were injured. After a few minutes, she saw one male doctor rushing into a doorway. He was a rarity in a vast population of women. And as she looked around, not sure where to go, Jean-Luc asked if she wanted him to wait for her.

“Yes, if you don’t mind,” she said, overwhelmed for a minute, but well aware that if they didn’t allow her to volunteer, she had no idea where to go or what else to do. And she was determined to stay in France and work there, unless she went to England and volunteered. But whatever happened, she wasn’t going home. Not for a long time anyway, or maybe ever. She didn’t want to think about that now. “I have to talk to the people in charge and see if they’ll keep me,” she said softly. And if they did allow her to work, she would need a place to stay. She was willing to sleep in a barracks or a garage if she had to.

Annabelle walked across the courtyard, following signs to various parts of the makeshift hospital set up in the Abbey, and then she saw an arrow pointing toward some offices under the arches, which said “Administration.”

When she walked in, there was a fleet of women lined up at a desk, handling paperwork, as female ambulance drivers handed requisition slips to them. They were keeping records on everyone they treated, which wasn’t always true at all the field hospitals, where in some cases they were under far more pressure. Here, there was a sense of frenzied activity, but at the same time clarity and order. The women at the desk were French for the most part, although Annabelle could hear that some of them were English. And all of the ambulance drivers were young French women. They were locals who had been trained at the Abbey, and some of them looked about sixteen. Everyone had been pressed into service. At twenty-two, Annabelle was older than many, although she didn’t look it. But she was certainly mature enough to handle the work if they let her, and far more experienced than most volunteers.

“Is there someone I should speak to about volunteering?” Annabelle asked in flawless French.