And when we arrived Jane’s and Polly’s delight was obvious. They were a little shy so unlike them and I was deeply touched.

Then there was all the bustle. Lamb chops done with sauce, “Miss Marlington being so fond Of them. And there’s some of that there cheese for you. Miss Pleydell. Jane went all over the place to find it. Ain’t it a mystery how they’ve never got what you want when you want it.”

“A little like life,” I commented.

“This is Dr. Fenwick who was with us at Kaiserwald.”

Jane and Polly dropped little curtsies.

“And he’ll be here for lunch. Miss? “

“Yes.”

“Lay another place. Poll.”

It was good to be home.

I wanted to hear about Lily and they exchanged looks which were revealing.

“And she’s delighted?”

“My goodness. Miss, you should see them Clifts. You’d think nobody had ever had a baby before.”

My thoughts went back to poor little Gerda who must have been very frightened to take that evil medicine. How different was Lily.

Luncheon was served with great ceremony. Charles was impressed by the devotion of our servants. He kept saying how glad he was that we had met at Kaiserwald.

“It was quite the nicest thing that happened there.”

When he left in the afternoon Joe took him to the station.

“We shall meet again soon,” he said before he went.

“I shall be in London and I’ll call, if I may.”

“We shall look forward to that.”

He took my hand and that of Henrietta. I thought how good he would be for her, but I did wonder whether she would be for him. I was so fond other; but at times she seemed a little reckless, so eager to grasp at life. Compared with her, I was a sober experienced woman. Perhaps that was what suffering did for one.

In any case I hoped that we should see Charles Fenwick again.

It was difficult settling into the old life. There had been so much to do at Kaiserwald that we had snatched at our few hours of leisure. At first it seemed so luxurious to sleep in a comfortable bed, to have one’s breakfast brought in to one which Jane and Polly insisted on doing to have a varied diet of dishes tastefully prepared. How different from thin broth and the same vegetables over and over again, a real cup of tea instead of that brewed from rye. Jane’s comment was that they had starved us at that place. You could never trust foreigners and Jane and Polly were going to feed us up; they prepared delicacies which we had to eat for fear of offending them.

“You will make us into two fat ladies,” complained Henrietta. She looked wryly at her hands and I glanced at mine no longer beautiful.

Wielding a scrubbing brush and constant immersion in water had made them chapped, and the nails, which had been a problem often, were only just beginning to grow normally.

Henrietta said that our first task would be to bring them back to their pre-Kaiserwald state, for such hands as ours had become would never be accepted in London society.

“Are we going into London society?” I asked.

“We have to be ready to pursue our Devil Doctor whenever the opportunity occurs, and I have a notion that he moves in the highest circles.”

We smothered our hands in goose grease every night and went to bed in cotton gloves.

Often I thought of Gerda, and I felt a great anger against the man who had seduced her. I was sure it was he the man who had ruined Aubrey’s life and had failed to save my son’s. And I hated him as much as I ever had.

On the very day of our arrival, Lily came to see us. She was radiant and already looked a little matronly.

We told her how delighted we were and she talked a great deal about the coming baby; it was clear that she was a very contented young woman.

“And I owe it all to you. Miss,” she said.

“Just think, if I hadn’t been run down by your carriage …”

“Perhaps you owe it to the man who almost ripped off the buttons. You see, Lily, causes and effects are everywhere. They go back and back in time.”

“I suppose you’re right. Miss. But I reckon I owe it all to you.”

“I’m happy to see you happy, Lily.”

“There’s only one thing to worry us.”

“What’s that?”

“That William might have to go away.”

“You mean into foreign service?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be so bad, because I’d go with him, taking the baby. But it’s all this talk of war.”

“War?”

“Oh, you’ve been away. The papers have been full of it. Something about Russia and Turkey and all the people saying we ought to show ‘em, and calling for Lord Palmerston and all that.”

“I see.” Some of the joy had gone out of her face.

“You see. Miss, William is a soldier.”

“Yes, of course. It’s a pity. He might have been working in his father’s shop.”

“That’s what I’d like him to do. Of course, he looks very fine in his uniform.”

“And that’s how you fell in love with him. Don’t worry. Perhaps nothing will come of it. After all, the trouble is between Russia and Turkey.”

“That’s what William’s father says. But there’s been a lot in the papers and there are people as thinks we ought to be out there fighting.”

“Well, let’s hope nothing comes of it.”

But when I saw the papers and read some of the comments, I could understand why Lily was worried. I realized that in Kaiserwald we had been cut off from world affairs and that we were nearer to war than I had imagined. The great powers of Europe had attempted to intervene and bring about a peace between Russia and Turkey but Russia was determined to overcome what she called the “Sick Man of Europe’, meaning Turkey, and would accept nothing but surrender. Negotiations were broken off and war seemed imminent.

There was tension in the streets. Everywhere one went there was talk of war. The headlines in the newspapers demanded intervention; anyone who stood against it was a traitor. We should go in, it was said, and we could settle the Russians in a week.

Battles are so easily fought and won at the dinner table or in the clubs or any place where people congregate; and the war was the main topic. Lord Palmerston should come back. He would show the Russians the might of Britain. Something had to be done. Russia was not only threatening Turkey, but us. Aberdeen’s policy of peace at any price was the reason for Russia’s intransigence, said some. Had Britain stood up and showed her intention to save Turkey, it would never have gone so far.

“Call back Palmerston,” screamed the press.

They blamed the Queen who was known to be against war, but most of all they blamed her husband.

It could not go on.

A few weeks passed. It was March of that memorable year. The paper boys were running through the streets shouting the news and people were dashing out of their houses to buy papers.

“France declares war on Russia.”

Now how could Britain stand aside?

The very next day it came. We were drawn into the conflict.

The disastrous Crimean War had begun.

Poor Lily! Her joy was tempered with anxiety. William had his marching orders. Lily said twenty times a day: “They say it won’t last more than a week or two once our boys get out there.”

And we pretended to agree with her.

On the day William left we were all in the streets. The Queen watched the parade from the balcony at Buckingham Palace, proudly smiling down on all her fine soldiers. It was a splendid and deeply moving sight. The shouts were deafening and the people cheered the magnificent guards with the little drummer boys marching ahead on their way to embarkation at the docks. The triumphant sound of the bands rang out:

Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these.

But of all the world’s great heroes, there’s none that can compare With a tow row row row row row for the British Grenadier.

I watched with the music ringing in my ears and looked at Lily who was soon to be a mother, and I prayed that William would come safely home to her.

Polly and Jane thought the soldiers were lovely and they were determined, as they said, ‘to jolly Lily out of herself, so we all went back to the house and talked about the baby and we showed Lily the clothes we had collected for the layette; and Lily’s spirits were lifted to some degree.

The next day we had a visitor. It was Charles Fenwick.

“I am in London for two days,” he said, ‘so I had to come and see you.

I am going to the Crimea. “

“When?” I asked.

“Immediately. The war has made up my mind. They are going to need doctors badly at the front. I applied to go and was accepted at once and I am on my way.”

“I wish you all the luck.”

He smiled at me and then at Henrietta.

“When I come back,” he said, ‘we must all meet again. May I call? “

“We shall be most put out if you do not,” said Henrietta.

Our leave taking was a little brusque. I think we were all trying to hide our emotions.

People could talk of hardly anything but war. I think they had expected miracles of the army and they were impatient because there was no news of victory.

Promptly on time Lily’s baby appeared and there was great rejoicing in both the Clift household and our own. Little Willie made even the war recede a little. He was a healthy, lusty boy and the pride of Lily’s heart. We discussed him endlessly; as for Jane and Polly, they were overcome with delight in the child.

The diversion was welcome, for the euphoria of the people was beginning to evaporate.

What was happening out there? The summer was almost over when we heard of the victory of the British and French at the Alma. The war would soon be over now, everyone was saying. Our soldiers were out there and that spoke for itself. But disturbing accounts were appearing in The Times, whose war correspondent, William Howard Russell, was sending home some very alarming despatches.

There was a cholera epidemic which had smitten the army and men were dying, not of battle wounds but of disease. The hospital equipment was pitiful. The organization was non-existent and it was the lack of medical supplies and attention which was defeating our men. The enemy was disease and mismanagement not the Russians.

The people were restive, looking for scapegoats; in vain did the army attempt to suppress these despatches; the hideous stories kept coming through.

Something had to be done.

One day there was a paragraph in the papers which startled us.

ad air for the Crimea, it announced.

I read it aloud to Henrietta.

Dr. Damien Adair is to go to the Crimea. He says that he is deeply shocked by what is happening out there. He wants to look into what is going on. He says it seems like an example of crass mismanagement. Dr. Adair is that doctor whose Eastern travels have interested so many. He is an expert on the use of drugs in medicine. He left today and should shortly be on the spot.

I dropped the paper and looked at Henrietta.

“How I wish,” I said, ‘that I could be there. “

“What harm do you think he will do?”

I shook my head.

“Wherever he is, disaster follows.”

“It seems it has come to the Crimea without him.”

“I wonder …”

“So do I.”

“Wouldn’t it be exciting … if we could go?”

“We should never be allowed to.”

“I’ve always told myself that nothing is impossible.”

Henrietta shrugged her shoulders.

“He’ll soon be back. Perhaps he’ll be in London with Charles. Then we can ask them both to dinner.”

I kept thinking of him with his demon face and those poor men lying at his mercy in some ill-equipped hospital.

The Russell articles could not be ignored. Something had to be done and it was.

The next item of news was that Miss Florence Nightingale had been asked to get together a group of nurses to take out to the Crimea.

That was all we needed.

Henrietta, through her connections, had soon acquired the information as to how the nurses would be selected. We were to present ourselves at the home of the Herberts, who had lent it to Miss Nightingale for this purpose. It was in Belgrave Square and when we arrived we had to face four ladies, one of whom was known to Henrietta. I was not sure that this was an advantage, for she would have known of Henrietta’s breaking off her engagement to Lord Cariton, which would be considered a feckless action, particularly as she had gone off and escaped from her social circle, disappearing into near obscurity.