The Jade Widow

by Deborah O'Brien

  ‘But surely we are not enemies either?’

  ‘Of course not. We are acquaintances.’ She said the last word slowly as if to emphasise its meaning.

  ‘Acquaintances!’ he exclaimed. ‘I have been a lodger in your home for some nine weeks now. We eat at the same table every evening. We have cared for the Farrar family together. We sleep two rooms apart. Yet you treat me like a leper.’

  Eliza felt a blush rising from her neckline onto her face, but she remained silent.

  ‘You are a very stubborn person, Eliza Miller,’ he said, uttering a long sigh. ‘All right. Let me posit an idea for your consideration. What if I decided to resign from my post and go somewhere else?’

  ‘Are you offering to resign?’

  ‘Hardly. I am trying to make a point. If I left Millbrooke, Doctor Allen would simply employ somebody else. And it wouldn’t be you. Not because your doctoring skills are lacking. On the contrary, you are abundantly gifted. It is only the lack of qualification that stands in your way. I understand your frustration, but I am tired of you making me the scapegoat.’

  Eliza squirmed. Abundantly gifted. Was he trying to sway her with flattery? All the same, he made a great deal of sense. But it was too late to back down. She would seem like a simpering fool. For the remainder of the ride into Millbrooke, she sat with her arms crossed, staring straight ahead. Yet, although she tried to remain indifferent, part of her felt ashamed.

  When they reached the surgery, it was only a quarter to nine, but the young lady in question was already waiting outside. Eliza climbed down from the sulky and found herself face to face with the girl from the dance, the young woman who had been weeping desperately on the railway station when they had farewelled Daniel in March.

  ‘Here are the keys,’ said the doctor, handing them down to Eliza. ‘Let yourself in. And you can use my office. In the meantime, I’ll take care of the sulky.’ Flicking the reins, he headed down the lane to the coach-house.

  Meanwhile Eliza fiddled with the front door key, aware that her hands were shaking. An awful possibility was forming in her head. No, don’t be silly, she told herself, there has to be an innocuous explanation for this girl wanting to see you.

  ‘Do come into the office,’ said Eliza, trying to sound professional. Her head bowed, the young woman followed Eliza into Martin Burns’s office. She had not uttered a single word.

  Eliza took a seat behind the large cedar desk that Doctor Allen had provided for his junior partner. The last time she had been in this room, it had been packed with medical supplies. Eliza glanced across at the side wall where a framed diploma from the University of Edinburgh took pride of place.

  ‘Now, what can I do for you, Miss . . .?’

  ‘Gray. Nancy Gray,’ the girl replied so softly that Eliza could barely hear her. She looked as though she wanted to bolt.

  ‘Doctor Burns said you needed to speak with me. Is it in regard to your health?’

  ‘You might say so.’

  She was picking nervously at her fingernails.

  ‘From your reluctance to confide in the gentleman doctors, I gather that it is a delicate matter.’

  ‘It is indeed, Doctor Miller.’ Her speech wasn’t peppered with crisp vowels, yet her accent didn’t seem uneducated either. Eliza imagined her to be a daughter of one of the local merchants.

  ‘I am not a doctor, Miss Gray. Only a medical student. I cannot provide a diagnosis or an unsupervised treatment. For that, you would need to see Doctor Burns.’

  ‘No, it is you I need to see.’

  ‘In that case, you had better tell me what is wrong.’

  The girl took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know how to begin.’

  ‘Just tell me what has happened to bring you here.’

  It was a long time before Nancy Gray spoke and then it was only a whisper, ‘I have missed my monthlies.’

  Eliza’s chest tightened. Please, dear Lord, don’t let this be what I think it is.

  ‘Just the once?’

  ‘No, twice in a row.’

  ‘Have you ever missed them before?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Is there something else you want to tell me?’

  Nancy Gray seemed to be summoning the courage to reply.

  ‘You can tell me,’ Eliza coaxed. ‘I won’t bite.’ It was a silly expression she had heard Doctor Allen employ with reluctant patients, but it always seemed to work.

  ‘It’s about your brother.’

  ‘Yes?’ Eliza held her breath.

  ‘Before he left for the war, we . . .’

  Eliza rubbed a hand back and forth over her forehead. This couldn’t be happening. ‘Are you saying that you and Daniel had sexual congress?’

  Nancy Gray looked puzzled.

  ‘By that I mean intimate behaviour between a man and a woman.’

  Nancy didn’t answer directly. Instead, she said, ‘I’ve never met anyone like Daniel before. I fell in love with him at the dance. Do you believe in love at first sight, Miss Miller?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never been in love.’ It struck Eliza that this young girl had more experience in worldly matters than the thirty-year-old medical student who had been top of her class in Paris.

  ‘Was it your first time?’ Eliza asked quietly.

  ‘Of course it was. I’d never done anything like that before. Not even a kiss. But he was going off to war . . . And he told me he would hold the memory of our tryst close to his heart like a talisman, and it would keep him safe. Isn’t that the most romantic notion, Doc – Miss Miller?’

  Eliza felt ill. That was exactly the kind of thing Daniel would say. He had always used his charm to get his own way. She scrutinised the face opposite her. Pretty but not beautiful. A pale complexion, almost colourless. Dark hair tied on top of her head with a white ribbon and a trio of velvet flowers. She looked like a child.

  ‘How old are you, Miss Gray?’

  ‘Nineteen.’

  ‘Was it only on the one occasion? The sexual congress, I mean.’

  Nancy Gray’s eyes filled with tears. ‘He left on the Sunday.’

  ‘Have you been feeling poorly in the morning?’ Eliza asked, willing herself to be composed and professional.

  ‘I have had awful queasiness, and not just in the morning. I’ve found it difficult to do my work.’

  ‘What work is that?’

  ‘I am a milliner. I make hats for Miss Travers. Are you familiar with her shop?’

  ‘Of course. Everyone buys their hats at Miss Travers’. How long have you been working there?’

  ‘Four months. Ever since I came to Millbrooke. My workroom and lodgings are above the shop.’

  ‘Have you spoken to your parents about this . . . ah . . . turn of events?’

  ‘My parents are dead.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry,’ said Eliza, not knowing what else to say.

  ‘Papa died when I was a child, Mama passed away last winter. She was a milliner too. I saw a classified for a job in Millbrooke so I replied and that is how I came to be here. Miss Travers has been a very kind employer.’

  ‘Have you mentioned your situation to her?’

  ‘When I missed my monthlies, I thought I might be dying. So I confided in Miss Travers.’

  ‘When my monthlies first started,’ said Eliza, ‘I thought the very same thing. I remember rushing into my mother’s room, saying, “I’m bleeding to death.” It’s a sad fact that young women are often kept in ignorance of matters relating to their own bodies.’

  ‘You are right, Miss Miller. I didn’t even know how babies were made until Miss Travers told me. I felt so foolish. And then, after she explained the likely reason for me missing my monthlies, I wondered if I might be expecting.’

  ‘Does Miss Travers know about Daniel?’

  ‘I didn’t divulge his name. Only that there had been a brief encounter with a young man.’

  Not so young, thought Eliza. Thirty-six years old. Someone who should have known better. El
iza had always idolised Daniel. He was her favourite brother. He had never been judgmental like Joseph, who was wont to admonish her for her ‘mannish interests’. Daniel was easygoing and carefree. The dashing soldier. Now she wondered if he wasn’t more like that philandering Mr Willoughby in the Jane Austen novel Amy had once lent her. A self-centred man of the world with no sense of responsibility.

  ‘There is something else, Miss Miller. In the past few weeks I have noticed a soreness in my bosoms. My mother died of cancer. Do you think it might be the same thing?’

  ‘I can check them for you, if you wish, but at your age it would be unlikely. On the other hand, discomfort in that area might be a sign there is a baby growing inside you.’

  ‘So you think there really is a baby?’

  ‘It would seem that way. There will need to be an examination, of course. The doctor will feel your belly and he’ll also undertake an internal examination.’

  ‘Internal!’

  ‘It will be necessary.’

  ‘Couldn’t you do it?’

  Nancy was sounding so anxious, Eliza replied, ‘We shall see. In the meantime, I don’t want you to worry.’

  ‘How can I not worry, Miss Miller? I am on my own, and I don’t know what to do.’ There were tears in her eyes.

  Neither do I, thought Eliza. But she said, ‘I’m here to help you through this, Miss Gray. Now please don’t fret. We shall talk again soon. And kindly call me Eliza.’

  ‘Only if you call me Nancy. Could I ask another question, Eliza?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Have you had any news from Daniel? He promised to write, but I haven’t heard from him yet.’

  ‘Neither have I. The post takes such a long time. However, we follow the progress of the contingent in the newspaper.’

  ‘So do I. Actually I am keeping a box of cuttings.’

  The remark about cuttings confirmed what Eliza had guessed earlier. Nancy Gray had been educated. She was able to read. There were many girls working as seamstresses and milliners who couldn’t.

  ‘Nancy, I will look after you, no matter what. And we shall see each other soon. Would you like me to walk you back to the shop?’

  ‘No, thank you, Eliza. I have taken up enough of your time.’ She took a handkerchief from her bag and blew her nose. ‘Your parents will hate me for putting them in this situation.’

  ‘Let me deal with that. Remember, no more tears. I don’t want you to concern yourself about anything.’ Eliza stood and walked her to the door. ‘I shall see you tomorrow.’

  Eliza watched as Nancy crossed the half-empty waiting room and walked out into the glare of Miller Street. Martin Burns was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was with Doctor Allen. She could feel tears pricking the back of her eyes and retreated to the office, closing the door behind her. Then she collapsed into the chair that Nancy Gray had just vacated and began to weep. Loud, wrenching sobs that made her throat ache and her eyes so sodden she could barely see. She couldn’t recall having been angry at Daniel before, not even when they were children, but right now she was livid. If he suddenly appeared in front of her like Aladdin’s genie, she wouldn’t embrace him or laud him as the returning hero; she would slap him across the face for being such a selfish cad.

  Damn you, Daniel Miller! How could you have done such a thing? Surely you could have seen that Nancy Gray was a complete innocent, yet you took advantage of her anyway. And now your little sister will have to break the news to your father. Then he will have to tell your mother, the woman who spends long hours honouring her son in a scrapbook.

  She searched her purse for a handkerchief and couldn’t find one. Instead, she wiped her face on her sleeve. At that moment there was a gentle knock at the door.

  ‘Miss Miller, are you all right?’

  It was Doctor Burns. In her anger Eliza had forgotten that she was in his office.

  ‘Just a moment.’

  There was another knock and the door opened.

  ‘I was concerned about you,’ he said from the doorway.

  ‘No need to be,’ she replied in a voice still nasal from crying. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her swollen eyes. Then again, he was a doctor attuned to physical symptoms.

  ‘May I come in?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s your office.’

  Tentatively he entered the room and went to his desk where he sat down and shot her a quick glance. ‘You seem rather upset. Was it something serious?’

  When she didn’t answer, he continued, ‘I assure you that anything which is said within these walls is completely confidential.’

  ‘It is indeed something serious,’ she replied, trying not to sniffle, ‘but not in the way you mean.’

  ‘Now who’s playing word games?’

  ‘Well, I suppose you’re going to find out anyway.’ Her nose was running.

  ‘Here,’ he said, taking a handkerchief out of the pocket of his brown jacket and handing it to her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, noting the embroidered ‘M’. After she blew her nose, she continued, ‘You must promise you won’t tell Doctor Allen. Not yet.’

  ‘I promise.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Everything would indicate that Nancy Gray – that’s the young lady’s name – is about nine weeks pregnant.’

  ‘I gather she is unmarried.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘And is there a fiancé?’

  ‘No, but I know the father.’ She paused for a moment, trying to summon the courage to continue. ‘It’s my brother.’

  ‘Joseph?’

  ‘Of course not. It’s Daniel.’ At the word ‘Daniel’, another flood of tears caught her unawares. She dabbed at her face with his handkerchief.

  ‘Please don’t cry. It can’t possibly be Daniel.’ Then he stopped to think. Eliza realised he was mentally counting backwards.

  ‘It happened the weekend he was home on leave, didn’t it?’ he said.

  She willed the tears to stop. She couldn’t bear to cry in front of him. After a moment she said, ‘It was her first time. She thinks she’s in love with him. She’s expecting that he will write to her. She’s even collecting newspaper clippings about the campaign. Meanwhile he’s probably forgotten that she ever existed. Why are men so thoughtless and selfish? I hate him for doing this to her.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure this girl is pregnant?’

  ‘Her breasts are tender, she’s feeling poorly and she’s missed two monthlies. You’ll have to do an examination at some stage, but I have no doubts whatsoever.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know what to say. It must be a terrible shock. What can I do to help?’

  She looked at him wanly. ‘You can tell me how I’m going to explain this to my father.’

  ‘I’ll go with you if you wish.’

  She considered for a moment. Then she said, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I have two patients waiting. But after that I’m free until afternoon surgery. I’ll tell Doctor Allen you’re feeling poorly and that I need to take you home.’

  ‘I suppose that isn’t a falsehood,’ she said wearily.

  ‘Your father is a wise man. He will be shocked at first – just as you were – but when he’s had time to reflect, I feel certain he’ll do what is right.’

  Eliza pondered his words. Martin Burns seemed so confident that things would work out. As for herself, she had no idea what the right course of action might be.

  It was almost noon by the time they reached Millerbrooke. Ever since she was a child, Eliza had experienced a burst of pleasure whenever she caught sight of the shingled roof and wide verandah. Today she felt only apprehension. Matilda greeted them at the door.

  ‘Your mama is upstairs, working on her scrapbook,’ she said. ‘And your father is in his study, doing the accounts. Would you care for a cup of tea, Miss Eliza?’

  ‘No, thank you, Matilda. We need to see Papa.’

  Matilda gave her a curious look and disappeared into the kitchen.

  T
he study door was ajar. Eliza knocked and waited to hear her father’s voice.

  ‘Come in.’ He was writing in a ledger book and glanced up, as if he were expecting one of the servants.

  ‘Eliza! Martin!’ His face turned pale. ‘There hasn’t been a telegram, has there?’

  ‘No, Papa. It’s not Daniel. Do not fear. Everyone is well.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that. My heart is still racing. What are the two of you doing home in the middle of the day? Were you visiting a patient?’

  ‘No, Papa. There is something important we need to tell you.’

  ‘In that case, take a seat.’ For a moment he seemed to be deep in thought. Then a smile appeared on his face. ‘Well, well. I always suspected all that antipathy between the two of you was simply a façade. So, Martin, are you here to ask for Eliza’s hand in marriage?’

  Martin flushed red. ‘No, sir, it is not that at all.’

  Eliza tried to laugh, but it sounded more hysterical than amused. ‘An attachment between Doctor Burns and myself is a most comical notion, isn’t it, Doctor?’

  ‘Nonsensical,’ he agreed.

  ‘Unfortunately, Papa, what we have to tell you is rather serious. You will need to brace yourself.’

  The look of concern on her father’s face made her heart ache. Don’t dillydally, Eliza, she told herself. Just tell him the facts. When she had finished, she gave the doctor a quick glance and he offered a fleeting smile by way of affirmation. There was no response from her father, who stared down at the blotter on his desk as if it held the answers to his dilemma. After what seemed like an eternity, he rose from his chair, walked to the window and gazed towards the purple hills. Eliza heard the hall clock strike the half hour. Still nothing from her father. Just as she was about to suggest that Martin should head back to town for afternoon surgery, she heard:

  ‘Thank you for telling me, Eliza. It can’t have been easy.’

  Then he seemed to remember that Martin was present. Clearing his throat, he added, ‘And Martin, I am grateful that you accompanied her on this difficult task.’

  ‘It is the least I could do for a friend,’ he replied.

  As her father turned away from the window, he directed his words at Eliza. ‘I will go upstairs and tell your mama. After that, she and I will make a plan. In the meantime, kindly ask Matilda to have a strong pot of tea ready. Your mother will need it.’