Malise crossed the carpet, smoothing the folds of her white nurse’s apron, and turned the knob. The colder air in the hallway chilled her skin.
“Nurse Bristol?” he called.
“Yes, sir?” She paused, turning back.
“Don’t forget the umbrella.” He peered at her over his spectacles. “And his name is St Vinet.”
“Mr St Vinet,” Malise repeated, nodding. She took up the umbrella from the stand, and pulled the door closed behind her.
In the hallway, she glanced into the gilt-framed mirror, and caught a glimpse of herself: a brown widow’s peak, visible from beneath the centre fold of her white nurse’s cap; brown eyes, and a small, pale face. Invisible. She had long ago become invisible. It was why she didn’t pause for more than a glance, or to pinch her cheeks or smooth her hair. She had learned her lesson. A handsome man who charmed with smiles and sweet words was just as likely a monster as a Prince Charming. It was why she preferred the sanctuary of this place and the company of men too old and infirm to do her harm.
Winterview had once been a private residence and did not feel like a “hospital” at all. Though the pointed arches and exaggerated buttresses proclaimed it to be a gothic villa in style, certain modernizations had been made for the comfort of the wealthy, aged residents. One such modernization was the electricity and another was the lift. A metallic rattle and hum came from inside the shaft, indicating the elevator was in-use, so rather than wait, she descended down three flights to the ground floor. Here, a number of small sitting areas graced the far corners of an expansive tiled floor and a fire burned on opposite ends of the space, in two matched fireplaces. Finches chirped in large cages. A few residents and visitors occupied the lobby. A number of new nurses had been hired of late. Several of them followed dutifully behind Nurse Henry, the newly hired Head Nurse, making their way toward the kitchens. Her crisply issued instructions echoed in the cavernous space. Only at Winterview a few weeks, she’d already made her mark as a strict taskmistress. She expected perfection from her staff, and strict adherence to all rules and regulations. So far, Malise had been fortunate enough not to draw Nurse Henry’s attention or ire.
Nurse Alice, a round-faced woman nearly a foot shorter than Malise, carried a covered silver tray towards the stairs. Just two weeks before, she and Alice had become roommates, sharing a boarding house room in Chelsea on their nights off.
“Where are you going in that rain, Nurse Bristol?”
“Just outside to the drive. Mr Rathburn has a visitor.”
The young maid smiled. “Mr Rathburn? A visitor? Well that’s something, isn’t it? Good for him, I say. See you at the train station for the ride in.” Her smile stretched into a grin. “Tick tock, it won’t be long now. We’re almost free of this place, at least for a day.”
“Yes, I shall see you there.”
At the double doors, Malise paused. Mr St Vinet, the mysterious visitor would be on the other side. She assumed a pleasant smile and pushed through the doors –
The afternoon light dimmed.
Intense warmth touched her skin. She gasped in confusion. For a moment, it seemed a thousand dark wings fluttered around her, battering her, blinding her in shadows.
In the next breath, the sensation was gone, moved past her. She stood on the front steps, gasping, the umbrella gripped in her hand. Rain fell from the sky at a hard slant, splattering against her skirt and apron. She spun round to see what had pushed past her, fully expecting to see that dark flock of birds, but saw nothing.
Perhaps she had simply grown faint. She could think of no other explanation for the sensation of heat, weight and darkness that had passed over her so quickly, and then disappeared. Certainly that was it — a simple change of temperature, the shock of going from a warm hospital out into the brisk cold. Only she’d never been one to grow light-headed over such minor things, nor did she lace her corset too tightly, as some of the other nurses certainly did.
Water sluiced off the umbrella. Ah, Mr St Vinet.
She peered down the long drive. He was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the grounds, her heart slowly sinking into the pit of her stomach. Clearly he’d been reluctant to come inside and see Mr Rathburn, but to have simply departed without explanation? She prayed her gentle patient would not be terribly disappointed. She understood disappointment. The soul-deep, life changing sort. She wished the feeling on no one.
Inside, she climbed the stairs and made her way back to the uppermost floor. Weighted by regret, she turned the knob and reentered Mr Rathburn’s rooms. Voices touched her ears.
“Oh—” The exclamation escaped her mouth before she could stop it.
Mr Rathburn sat in his wheelchair in the small sitting area. His visitor, Mr St Vinet, sat in the chair opposite him, his hat on his lap. He had dark brown hair, worn just long enough to curl behind his ears. Raindrops glistened on his shoulders and dripped off the edge of his coat on to the carpet. Even seated, he towered over Mr Rathburn. She read agitation, even anger, in the rigid line of his shoulders, and the sharp downward turn of his lips. He glanced at her with the irritated expression of one confronting an unwanted intruder.
Mr Rathburn did not appear the least bit troubled by his guest’s demeanour. “Nurse Bristol, please be introduced to Mr St Vinet.”
She was staff. Truly just a servant. Not even a real nurse with formal medical training. A simple companion. As such, she had not anticipated a formal introduction. She half-curtseyed. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Nurse Bristol,” St Vinet murmured, barely offering her a glance. But then his chin halted, and his eyes narrowed and he did look at her, and piercingly so, as if reading her every feature.
Heat crept up her neck and flooded her face.
He looked sharply away.
She returned the umbrella to its stand, and subdued the impulse to back out of the room and only return when she was sure Mr St Vinet had departed. It was his direct stare. Something in his eyes. It was almost as if he had reached out and touched her. For someone who had not been touched in a very long time, her physical and emotional reaction was unexpectedly profound.
She reminded herself of her position and her purpose in the room. “Sir, ought I to prepare tea?”
She did not return her glance to Mr St Vinet but felt the pinpoint heat of his gaze on her.
Mr Rathburn answered, “Thank you, Nurse Bristol, tea would be most welcome.”
A copper kettle warmed on the narrow metal shelf of the wall stove. The men spoke, but they kept their voices low, so their words remained unintelligible to her ears. Within minutes, she’d prepared the tea tray and returned to serve them.
“How could I not come?” St Vinet hissed, his jaw and mouth tensing even more than before. “You summoned me. I have never been one to deny my duty.”
Malise kept her expression bland as she lowered the tray to the marbled-topped table between them. A leather case sat on the carpet next to Mr St Vinet’s booted foot. It was the sort a doctor might carry on a house visit.
“Duty?” Rathburn steepled his fingertips and peered, half-lidded, at his younger companion. “You warm my soul with such heartfelt sentiments. You could have come before, you know, without my summoning you. Why did you not?”
A dry laugh rattled from St Vinet’s throat. “To see you like this? You know how I feel about this.” He pointed at Rathburn, zig-zagging his finger in agitation. “You, being pushed around in that damn chair, by a damn nursemaid, for God’s sake. And this place,” he spat. “It’s like a coffin. Your coffin. And you expect me to come and watch as you die before my very eyes, all because of her—”