When Sister Maclay arrived alone for Monday morning’s rounds, William was disappointed but thought little of it. Perhaps Elizabeth had decided to spend longer with her parents than originally planned.
When she didn’t show on Tuesday or Wednesday either, he began to worry. Was she all right? Had she, like Nurse Lewis, been taken ill? Or perhaps she’d been reassigned to another ward, though if that were the case she surely would have found some way to let him know.
He wanted to ask Sister Maclay, but Daniel’s words lingered in the back of his mind and he was hesitant to show too much of an interest.
Tomorrow, he thought. If she’s not back by tomorrow, I’ll ask…
It didn’t come to that, however, because Elizabeth followed Sister Maclay into the room the following morning. Her head was ducked and she stayed close to her aunt.
William felt his heart skip a beat when she eventually looked over at him, and he tried to convey how much he had missed her with a smile. Strangely, she bit her lip and looked away for a moment before hesitantly returning his smile.
William frowned, realising that she looked tired: pale and drawn, with dark circles under her eyes. What had happened? Perhaps she really was ill.
He frowned and longed for Sister Maclay’s examination to be over so he could scribble down a quick note for Elizabeth, ready to give her when she brought lunch.
In time, the nurses left the room, their footsteps still lingering in his ears as he scrambled for his ink. He could feel Daniel’s gaze heavy on the back of his neck but he ignored it.
His worry for Elizabeth made him more abrupt and less guarded than usual.
My dear Elizabeth,
Are you well? I worried when you did not return on Monday.
I missed writing to you.
William
As usual, William left the note on the corner of the desk, and when Elizabeth brought lunch she pocketed it almost immediately.
William ate his stew and potatoes slowly, forcing the food past the lump in his throat. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Elizabeth returned to take away the empty plates some time later, and William’s unease was reinforced when she kept her head down and her face grim—nothing like the bright, breezy girl of only a few days prior—and swept the crockery away without a word.
She did, however, slip a note under his pillow and William was suddenly eager for Alasdair and Daniel to settle down for their after-dinner nap. He didn’t have to wait long; the meal had been large and hearty and, truthfully, he could have done with forty winks himself. He made the pretence of yawning and climbed into bed. Rolling to one side, his body shielded his hand as it crept under the pillow. He pulled out the paper hidden there and read the words greedily.
30th October 1888
Mr Pratt,
I’m well, thank you. My absence was prolonged by my parents’ wish to spend more time with me. There is nothing to worry about. Thank you for your concern.
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Summers
William read the note once, twice and still the words remained the same: cold, impersonal and nothing like the girl he’d come to know.
He was glad to hear that nothing was wrong, but where was the laughter, the zest for life that had shone through so brightly in their previous correspondence?
He stared at the note until his eyes glazed over and he fell into an uneasy sleep.
***
Elizabeth’s strange behaviour continued on into the next week. She didn’t speak during her rounds, except to sullenly answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when Sister Maclay asked a question.
It was frustrating for William; he didn’t know why she’d had the sudden turnaround in personality and change of heart regarding their letters. It couldn’t be that anyone had found out, otherwise he’d have been on the receiving end of a telling off, surely.
He tried to leave notes out for her, but she didn’t take them. Didn’t look at them, except once, the day after she’d returned—she’d seen the note on the desk and her face had filled with more sorrow than William had ever seen, before she’d resolutely set her mouth in a hard line and looked away.
Saturday saw the advent of November and with it a horrible, dreary day. Rain lashed against the windows, and the wind howled eerily around the building.
William couldn’t see very far out to sea but, from the vantage point of his window, he could see the water churning a boiling froth, the horses riding the waves no longer white but a dark, angry grey.
He supposed that such weather was a good inspiration for verse; he could hear the opening lines echoing in his head…
When darkness fell a morning clear,
Waters rising, thunder near
…but he simply couldn’t muster the energy to write it down. Later, perhaps.
His musings were interrupted by the now familiar sound of a nurse’s footsteps on the cold tiled floor of the hallway outside the room. William perked up a little; perhaps it was Elizabeth and the sight of her would make the tedious day that little bit brighter, even if she was being curiously standoffish.
It wasn’t her. Sister Maclay entered the room alone, greeting the men with a smile and hello. She went to Daniel’s bed first, and William turned away disinterested to stare once more out the window. Soon, the nurse came to stand by his bedside and he listlessly allowed her to examine him.
“You’re doing well, William,” she said. “It won’t be long until we have you fully recovered.”
That news should have made him happy, but he shrugged and didn’t reply. Frowning, Sister Maclay rearranged his bedclothes and then moved away to see to Alasdair.
The man’s soft Scottish brogue was pleasant to listen to, and William found himself drifting off, his eyes drooping as tiredness caught up with him. He came to full wakefulness when he heard Alasdair mention Elizabeth’s name, and all his attention turned in that direction.
“And where’s that bonnie Nurse Summers?” Alasdair asked. “Seems you’re alone more often than not these days, Sister.”
“She’s off over in Bembridge again, visiting her parents. She’ll be away most weekends, now.” Sister Maclay sighed. “And we simply don’t have enough staff to cover absences. It’s a wonder we manage as we do.”
William took no notice of the rest of the conversation, the others’ voices nothing more than a hum in the background of his thoughts. So Elizabeth had gone home to her parents again. His mind raced. Maybe her mother or father had taken ill and that was why she’d come back looking so drawn.
He wished he knew.
***
William hoped that, when Elizabeth returned on Monday, she would be back to her usual self. He had prepared a letter and decided that he would make sure she took it, no matter what.
He smiled to himself when he saw her following Sister Maclay into the room, but his hopes were dashed at the sight of her: still pale and tired-looking, and thinner than she had been. He felt his heart pounding loudly in his chest as he tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look at him.
The nurses completed their morning examinations quietly, with Sister Maclay murmuring that perhaps a turn around the garden would be nice after lunch, now that the weather had calmed.
As fortune would have it, both Alasdair and Daniel decided to head out for a walk immediately after their meal, leaving William alone in the room with the empty plates and dishes. He began to pace nervously, his hands agitating the paper in his hand, so much so that it crumpled and started to resemble one of his scrapped poems.
The sound of a muffled gasp made him turn mid step and he saw Elizabeth standing in the doorway, surprise on her face. She paused for a few moments before ducking her head and entering the room, to make a beeline for the table. She stacked the plates and dishes and was about to pick them up when William caught hold of her wrist.
“Elizabeth,” he said, voice low, aware that the door was still open and anyone could walk past at any given moment. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”
She lifted her chin defiantly but made no move to release herself from his grip. “There’s nothing wrong, Mr. Pratt. I already told you that I’m well.” Her voice was strong but William detected an undercurrent of something in her words. What was it?
“I thought… I thought we were friends,” William replied, his fingers unconsciously brushing the soft underside of her wrist. “You could at least do me the courtesy of explaining your sudden change of heart.”
“I—” she paused, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. “I don’t want to… can’t—don’t want—please, William. Don’t make this harder than it already is. Please.”
“What is it?” he asked, his heart full and ready to burst with sympathy for whatever plight she was going through. “Maybe I can help.”
“You can’t help.” She tried to pull herself away but he held on, and she glared at him through unshed tears. “Let me go. I have work to do.”
“I want to help you. Let me help you.”
“There’s nothing you can do!” her voice rose, and she tugged herself from his grip. Angrily, she brushed the tears away from her cheeks and picked up the stack of plates, before turning and glaring at him once more. “Leave me alone.”
Elizabeth left the room without another word, and all William could do was stare after her helplessly.
***