“Lord love a duck,” said Polly admiringly, ‘that one’s got the strength of a man. ” That was when Eliza had shifted a piece of furniture in one of the rooms. She was so eager to make herself useful and insisted on helping with the housework.

We were making enquiries about a suitable hospital where we might work. I read in the papers that Miss Nightingale was raising funds to train a superior order of nurses at St. Thomas’s and King’s College hospitals. We wondered whether we should be eligible to join. While we were pondering on this, Charles Fenwick arrived in London.

His coming was treated with obvious approval, not only by Eliza, who had often made her feelings known to me, but by Jane and Polly.

They excelled themselves with the lunch they provided.

After the meal Charles and I went for a walk in Kensington Gardens, where he told me of his plans.

“I did say that I would wait before getting involved in a practice, that I might consult you. But this came up and it seemed ideal. I had to make a quick decision.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s for you to decide, Charles.”

“You know that I hope it will be your life, too.”

“I don’t want you to consider me, Charles. You see, I may not…”

“I understand. You’re unsure. All that has happened is so unsettling.

I don’t think anyone who was out there and saw what we saw and lived through it will ever be quite the same again. “

“You are so good and understanding that it seems churlish of me …”

“Oh, nonsense! I want you to be happy. I want you to be sure that you are doing what is best for you.”

“I know I’m being foolish. It is just that I am so undecided.”

We sat near the Round Pond and watched the children playing with their boats.

I tried to explain.

“I’m not a young and inexperienced girl. I have been married. It all seems so wonderful at first and then it changes and you see what a mistake you have made.”

“It would make one wary,” he agreed.

“I shouldn’t be … of you. I know how kind you are … how good. It is you who should be wary of me. I left my husband. Had I been a good wife I should have stayed, no matter how hard it was.

Perhaps I am not the sort of person who makes a good wife. “

“With the right marriage, you would. I’ll tell you what we’ll do.

We’ll go down to Meriton. That’s the name of the place. It’s rather pleasant, isn’t it? It’s in Gloucestershire. I love the Cotswold country. The practice is a partnership. There’s a Dr. Silkin. He’s not exactly old but middle-aged, mid-fifties and he wants to ease off a bit. He wants a partner with a view to taking over the whole practice in due course. It’s an excellent opportunity. I took a fancy to him and the place. “

“It sounds ideal for you … just what you were looking for.”

“I’ve found a pleasant little house which would suit us nicely at first. It’s almost exactly next door to the doctor’s house. There’s a charming garden with two apple trees and one cherry tree. It would be ideal for us to start off with. I’m longing for you to see it.”

“I’m so afraid …”

“You mustn’t be afraid of anything. I want you to know that I understand perfectly. You’re not sure yet. Well then, the wise thing is not to rush into anything. But come down to see it. No obligations.

Just come and tell me what you think of it. “

“As long as you understand …”

“I do. I assure you I do. When will you come? Come on Saturday. Bring Eliza with you. Then you won’t be travelling alone. I’ll meet you at the station.”

“Yes, I’ll come,” I said.

We came through the Flower Walk where the nannies were sitting while their charges ran round them. I thought how charming the children were and I felt that pang of sadness they always aroused with their memories of Julian.

Then we went back to the house where Jane was toasting muffins for tea and Polly was preening herself about the cake which, as she said, ‘she had duffed up in a jiffy’ because we had company.

Everyone seemed in a euphoric mood and I guessed by the looks they exchanged that they all believed that this was, as they would say, ‘my intended’.

As arranged, Charles met us at the station in the brougham which he used for his rounds. He greeted us with delight and Eliza and I sat inside while he drove up front.

The countryside was beautiful. Perhaps it seemed more so because it was so long since we had seen leafy lanes and green fields where buttercups and daisies grew. Everything seemed fresh and peaceful.

Then we came to Meriton, an ancient market town. Everywhere was the grey Cotswold stone. Aubretia and arab is grew out of the walls in front of the houses, behind which were gardens ablaze with flowers.

Eliza said: “What a lovely place. I never knew there was such places.”

“It is rather lovely,” said Charles proudly.

“It’s so peaceful.”

“Yes, that’s what one thinks of … peace.”

We went first to Charles’s house. He had already acquired a housekeeper a comfortable, middle-aged woman who clearly, after the fashion of her kind, was determined to ‘mother’ him. The house with its. creeper-covered grey stone walls was charming, the garden well-tended.

“A man comes twice a week. I inherited him from the previous owners.”

“You manage very well,” I said.

“I can see you are already part of Meriton.”

“We are having luncheon with my partner. He insisted when he knew you were coming. He has a bigger establishment and he said it was easier for you to go there. As a matter of fact, I am invited to lunch with them every Sunday. It’s a very pleasant arrangement.”

I understood what he meant. Dr. Silkin, fresh-faced, grey-haired, was a very pleasant man. He greeted us warmly and it was quite clear to me that he was immensely satisfied with the arrangements he had made.

Charles, I was sure, was a trustworthy partner and it seemed to me that Dr. Silkin was still congratulating himself on finding someone eminently suitable.

“You must meet my daughter,” he said.

“Dorothy,” he called.

“Where are you? Our guests are here.”

I was not expecting anyone so young. I guessed her age to be about twenty-one or -two. She had rather lovely brown eyes and smooth brown hair drawn down on either side of her face with a knot at the nape of her neck. It was a gentle face, beautiful in a way, without being regular featured but with an expression of kindliness. She was the sort of person one liked immediately because there was about her an inner goodness which I have sometimes seen in older faces, rarely in one so young.

She smiled at us and said: “Welcome to Meriton. Charles has told us about you and the wonderful things you have been doing in the Crimea.”

“Dorothy is avidly curious about all that went on,” said Charles, looking at the girl with a kind of tender indulgence.

“She thinks Miss Florence Nightingale is a saint.”

“She is probably not far wrong,” I said.

“Did you actually see her?” asked Dorothy.

“Oh yes.”

“And she spoke to you?”

“Anna worked for her, so there,” said Charles.

“Anna, you are receiving a very warm welcome here because you have worked in the same hospital as Miss Nightingale.”

“Oh come! Not only that,” protested Dr. Silkin.

It was a beautiful house and Dorothy was an expert house keeper. In the dining-room there was an oil painting hanging over the fireplace.

It portrayed a woman so like Dorothy that I guessed it must be her mother.

Later this was confirmed. She had been dead for four years, and since then Dorothy had looked after her father.

“She’s an excellent housekeeper,” said Dr. Silkin, looking fondly at his daughter.

“Moreover, she helps me in my work. She has a wonderful way with patients.”

“Keeping the difficult ones at bay,” said Charles with a smile, ‘while offering the right touch of sympathy to those who need They talked of life in the little town: the friendly gatherings, the church functions, the musical evenings, the little dinner parties I could see that Charles was enamoured of it and he had obviously become on terms of great friendship with the Silkins. It certainly was an ideal arrangement.

Could I see myself part of it? Why not? It was a pleasant comfortable lifestyle. I could be of use. My knowledge of nursing would be an asset. I imagined myself in that little house with its stone walls and Virginia creeper. But should I feel enclosed, shut in? Yet I might have children . little ones to take away the pain I still felt at the loss of Julian.

It was a pleasant day.

In the late afternoon Charles drove us to the station. He looked at me wistfully as he said goodbye.

“Perhaps you’ll come again soon,” he said.

“Just let me know. I am sure the Silkins liked you.”

“I liked them, too. I think you chose wisely, Charles.”

“So you liked it… and them. That’s the first step.”

Eliza was thoughtful in the train.

She said: “He’s a good man. It would be a good life. You’re lucky, you know.”

“If only I could make up my mind.”

“Anyone in her right senses would, unless, of course’ she looked at me obliquely ‘unless she’s got plans somewhere else.”

“I haven’t got any plans. I just feel it’s so cosy … too cosy .. stifling. Like being in a soft feather bed, sinking right down, being caught in it … in a cosy, comfortable sort of way.”

“You don’t half have some fancies. Besides, what’s wrong with a feather bed?”

She looked at me shrewdly and we were silent for a while. I sat back listening to the chugging of the train and thinking of myself in that little house. And then another figure intruded into my reverie . cynically smiling, holding me with those eyes. Not for you, he was saying. You want to be free to discover the world. You want to wipe away the conventions. Stop thinking what you ought to; start thinking of what you like. Discover for yourself . I could show you . But he was gone. I should probably never see him again. And if I did, what then? Oh, I was indeed, as Eliza said, not in my right senses.

Eliza was speaking.

“What did you think of Miss Dorothy?”

“Charming,” I said.

“Yes … and the doctor’s daughter. She’d make a good wife … to a doctor.”

“I dare say.”

“And I reckon she might… some day. It would be all very neat, wouldn’t it?”

“Do you mean Charles?”

“Well, there it is, all cut and dried as you might say, and ready for the market.”

“You use some odd expressions.”

“Never mind, as long as I make my meaning clear.”

“Your meaning is clear, Eliza. You are saying that if I delay and refuse Dr. Fenwick, Dorothy might very well become his wife.”

“Well, you could say it was working out that way, couldn’t you? I think she thought a lot of him, working in the Crimea with Miss Nightingale … well, that for one thing has set him up as a hero in her eyes.”

“Those doctors were heroic.”

“And Dr. Fenwick is a good man as well as a hero.”

“You have certainly always spoken up for him.”

“Sometimes when you lose something you appreciate it all the more.”

“Are you telling me that if I don’t snap up Dr. Fenwick very soon I shall lose him to Dorothy Silkin?”

“Just that,” she said.

“Do you know, Eliza, I am rather glad there is a Dorothy Silkin. I think she will be an ideal wife for Charles. He deserves the best and she would be better for him than I.”

“You’d be better for him … and he’d be good for you.”

“I just wonder how I would settle in a place like that. What happened to me has had its effect. I have told you a little about Minster St.

Clare, but not all. It was a strange experience. I lost my husband. I lost my child. That sort of thing cannot be shrugged aside. And then … Scutari. Could I settle into the cosy country life? Eliza, seeing it today, I don’t think I could. And hurting Charles is something I can’t bear to think of. So meeting that girl today, seeing them together … You understand what I mean?”

“Yes,” said Eliza.

“It would be a solution. It would put your mind at rest, wouldn’t it?”

I nodded.

I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythm of the train.

Two days later two letters arrived. One was from Henrietta. I recognized her handwriting at once and tore it open.

My dear Anna [she wrote], I expect you have been wondering about me. It really was rather an awful thing to do, wasn’t it? I mean . to decide not to go right at the last minute. I should have told you before. But I was in such a state of uncertainty. First I was going to and then I wasn’t. You know me.