May stammered, truthfully, ‘We, we haven’t discussed marriage, yet, Mamma.’
Lady Clarence’s smile was radiant. ‘Oh, May, I know I’m considered old-fashioned, but I am so pleased that you have both waited to speak to your father first.’
May, remembering how she had thrilled to the touch of Walter’s hand on her breast, blushed scarlet.
In a very short time Haines was at the door. ‘His Lordship wishes to speak to Miss May in the library.’ His face was a picture of barely restrained pleasure.
May stood up and followed him. As she went into the library she saw only Walter, his face alight with welcome. Lord Clarence was jocular.
‘Well, May, this young man seems to think you might be prevailed upon to accept his proposal.’ Then he recalled his responsibilities. ‘Would you like some time to think it over, my dear?’
May shook her head. ‘I shall be delighted to accept Mr Lisle’s proposal, Papa.’ She looked across at Walter – he moved a pace towards her and she found herself almost running over the library floor, then she was in his arms again.
In the background Lord Clarence murmured, ‘Hm, that seems pretty conclusive, I’ll go and tell your Mamma.’
May managed to restrain herself until she heard the door click, then her lips found Walter’s and they stood clinging to each other as one.
Epilogue
September, 1909
The ancient church was fragrant with the scent of massed banks of flowers. The gold of the bride’s hair gleamed softly through her veil as she stood, so straight and slender, beside her tall, dark bridegroom.
‘And, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long ye both shall live?’
Lady Hindlesham gazed at the ivory satin back. How lovely May looked, and so slim! She looked ruefully down at her own thickening waistline. How strong-minded May had been, determined to finish her contract, and work her full year as a staff nurse; such constancy should, perhaps, make one feel rather ashamed – but then, everyone had to make their own decisions. She was so glad she’d been able to persuade George to let her come. He was the dearest of husbands, but he did fuss a little, sometimes – but she just couldn’t have missed May’s wedding. Strange to think that if it hadn’t been for May rejecting Harry Cussons’ proposal… It didn’t bear thinking of – though George had had to endure the anguish of the divorce as a consequence.
Darling George, so kind, so generous, and always so understanding. She shifted slightly on the narrow wooden seat, then, catching her husband’s glance of loving concern, turned to him and smiled her reassurance. He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and she entwined her fingers in his, warmed by his firm clasp. It was sweet of George to be so concerned, but she had been quite well, only a little tired, and her confinement wasn’t due for another couple of months. Besides, how could she not have made the journey, however long, to May’s wedding? After all, it was May who had first brought them together. And Ellen Hindlesham’s thoughts went back to that blustery day outside the House of Lords when she had cannoned so unceremoniously into the man at her side.
‘For better for worse, for richer for poorer…”
Such a suitable match – breeding and wealth on both sides, and no doubt whatsoever of the good looks of this pair. Melicent Andover, her silvery hair soft and shining under one of Paquin’s smartest new toques, gave a barely perceptible nod of approval. It had taken rather longer than she’d anticipated to marry her granddaughter off so satisfactorily, but she had finally achieved her goal. And one had to admit that although she would have found Harry Cussons a more entertaining grandson-in-law, Walter Lisle was probably a more appropriate choice for May – Julia’s influence had bit deeper than anyone had realised. Besides, his eventual marriage to Della had dimmed some of Harry’s old spirit – he was even getting a little paunchy these days, whereas Walter had such a beautiful figure – slim and lithe, yet so obviously well-muscled…
They did make a handsome couple. She’d nearly despaired of May at one point, the girl had seemed so engrossed in her nursing; but as soon as Archie had brought Walter Lisle back to tea that day and she’d heard him talk so intensely of the problems of his East End parish – then she’d known he was the one for May. Why, the very first evening, when they’d barely been introduced to each other, they’d got on so famously, she’d noticed it at once. Such a shame Walter would insist on staying in Poplar, and May was just as bad – completely determined. Not a healthy place for bringing up children – still, they would be re-opening the nurseries at Stemhalton this summer, for Bertie and Louise; May’s babies could come and stay – she’d soon catch up with Louise, now this absurdly long engagement was over.
How much more sensible George’s little Ellen had been. An unusual girl, not a patch on Della for looks, but George seemed quite besotted by her. Still, it must be quite a change for him to have a wife who refused to make even a pretence of using a separate bedroom – the servants had been quite shocked, Ursula said, but they always hated anything middle-class. And the girl was doing her duty fast enough. If any man deserved a son and heir after so long it was George Hindlesham, and it was so important to secure the continuance of these ancient titles.
Lady Andover’s attention returned to the bride and groom. What beautiful children May and Walter would produce – perhaps a daughter with May’s delicacy of feature allied to Walter’s dark, dramatic colouring – but more docile than her mother, of course. Now whom could she marry? There was Elizabeth Chevron’s son – one of the oldest dukedoms – but what of the young boys growing up at Marlborough House, grandsons of her old friend? And Melicent Andover’s ambitions climbed steadily higher.
‘Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.’
Another good nurse lost to the profession, Matron sighed to herself. What an efficient Staff Nurse she’d made – really, it was a tragedy to see a young woman of such potential sacrificed on the altar of Hymen. Still a few faults to be ironed out, of course, but given a few years of running a busy ward… Nurse Carter lost as well – it was difficult to believe she would have married an Earl, even a divorced one, without the influence of Nurse Winton. One just had to be thankful that the final member of that trio was such a convinced suffragette – no romantic nonsense there, at least.
Weddings were so depressing – the only bright spot was the food, such a pleasant change from that served in the hospital. A reminiscent smile flickered for a moment over Matron’s face. That naughty girl, Nurse Winton – speaking out to Sir James like that! But one had to admire her spirit, that’s why she’d have gone far; obedience alone was never enough. And to think she’d nearly turned her down out of hand – if that other intending probationer hadn’t backed out at the crucial moment. If any young woman had looked like a forlorn hope as a future nurse it was the fashionable Miss May Winton – far too good-looking, for a start. But she’d obviously had a healthy pair of lungs, always important, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. Then, once she’d arrived she’d rolled up her sleeves and really put her back into it, and gone on from strength to strength. All that good work undone by one dark-eyed young clergyman – why, this young woman could have been one of the Great Matrons – what a terrible waste!
‘Let the people praise Thee, O God: yea, let all the people praise Thee.’
Walter Lisle glanced sideways under his lashes at his beautiful bride. His gaze lingered – lovely, lovely May. So tall and strong and determined, and yet she could be so kind and gentle. How lucky he’d been to catch sight of her in the crude light of the Chrisp Street flares – even then he’d wanted to approach her. That was why he’d been so furious when he thought she was a silly Society girl, come thoughtlessly down to laugh at the poverty of Dockland. Poor May, how he’d ranted and raved at her – and she’d set her lovely mouth in an angry line and flashed her beautiful eyes with such scorn in his direction. What a disastrous beginning to their courtship!
One wouldn’t wish pai
n on anybody, but how lucky it was that Hetty Barnes had been taken to St Katharine’s when she went down with appendicitis, and to May’s ward – suppose he’d never seen her again? The thought sent cold shivers down his spine even now. After all, it was pure chance that they’d both been at Lady Andover’s dinner party – he’d known Archie for years, even heard him talk of his Cousin May, but he had had no idea of what she was.
May shifted slightly at his side; as she moved he felt her hand lightly brush his, and everything else was forgotten in an overwhelming surge of love and tenderness. Darling, darling, May.
Historical Note
The Royal Hospital of St Katherine was founded in 1147 by Queen Matilda, wife of King Stephen. It was built near the Tower of London. On 5 July 1273 Queen Eleanor, widow of Henry III, granted a new Charter, and from that time on the work of general nursing gradually ended, and the Hospital maintained the old and infirm, and a school. In 1825 the Hospital Church and Precinct were bought by the directors of the St Katharine’s Dock Company, and the area cleared prior to the excavation of the Dock. The Foundation was moved to Regent’s Park, near Gloucester Gate. For the purposes of this story I have assumed that St Katharine’s remained a large hospital for the sick, and that on the building of the Dock it was simply moved eastwards, to Poplar. I have placed it on the site of the much smaller Poplar Hospital for Accidents, which was, of course, in existence in 1905.
Miss Lewin was the instructor at the Bath Club in 1905, but May’s invitation to Lord Oulton might well have caused problems, since the Ladies’ Display was only open to males who were relatives of members.
Mary Cholmondeley’s Red Pottage was first published in 1899.
Lady Hermione Hamilton-Temple-Blackwood trained at The London Hospital, Whitechapel, 1899-1900. Her photo, with caption, was in ‘The Lady’s Realm’ of June, 1904.
Will Crooks, the working class MP, was born in Poplar in 1852, elected to the London County Council in 1892, became Mayor of Poplar in 1901, and was elected as Labour Member of Parliament for Woolwich in 1903.
First published in Great Britian in 1985 by Century Publishing Co. Ltd
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Copyright © Beverley Hughesdon, 1985
The moral right of Beverley Hughesdon to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
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ISBN 9781910859629
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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