words were listened to with more attention, and given more weight, than most other people's.” She did not flinch from Louisa's brown-hazel eyes. She was speaking lhe truth now, and would dare anyone with it. “If you were to let it be known that you thought nursing a fine career for a young woman, not unfem-inine or in any way degraded, then I believe more young women, hesitating about choosing it, might make their decisions in favor. It is only a matter of words, Mrs. Furnival, but they might make a great deal of difference.”
“You are very persuasive, Miss Latterly.” Louisa moved gracefully and arrogantly to the window, swinging her skirts as if she were walking outside along an open path. She might play at the coquette, but Hester judged there was nothing yielding or submissive in her. If she ever pretended it, it would be short-lived and to serve some purpose of her own.
Hester watched her, and remained seated where she was, silently.
Louisa was looking out of the window at the sun on the grass. The light on her race betrayed no age lines yet, but there was a hardness to the expression she could not have noticed, or she would not have stood so. And there was a meanness in her thin upper lip.
“You wish me to allow it to be known in those social circles I frequent that I admire nursing as an occupation for a woman, and might have followed it myself, were I not married?” she asked. The humor of it still appealed to her, the amusement was there in her face.
“Indeed,” Hester agreed. “Since quite obviously you could not do it now, no one can expect you to prove what you say by offering your services, only your support.”
Laughter flickered over Louisa's mouth. “And you think they would believe me,, Miss Latterly? It seems to me you imagine them a little gullible.”
“Do you often find yourself disbelieved, Mrs. Furnival?” Hester asked as politely as she could, given such a choice of words.
Louisa's smile hardened.
“No-no, I cannot say I can recall ever having done so. But I have never claimed to admire nursing before.”
Hester raised her eyebrows. “Nor anything else that was an… an extending-of the truth?”
Louisa turned to face her.
“Don't be mealymouthed, Miss Latterly. I have lied outright, and been utterly believed. But the circumstances were different.”
“I am sure.”
“However, if you wish, I shall do as you suggest,” Louisa cut her off. “It would be quite entertaining-and certainly different. Yes, the more I think of it, the more it appeals to me.” She swung around from the window and walked back across towards the mantel. “I shall begin a quiet crusade to have young women of breeding and intelligence join the nurses. I can imagine how my acquaintances will view my new cause.” She turned swiftly and came back over to Hester, standing in front of her and staring down. “And now, if I am to speak so well of this wonderful career, you had better tell me something about it. I don't wish to appear ignorant. Would you care for some refreshment while we talk?”
“Indeed, that would be most agreeable,” Hester accepted.
“By the way, who else are you approaching?”
“You are the only one, so far,” Hester said with absolute veracity. “I haven't spoken to anyone else as yet. I don't wish to be blatant.”
“Yes-I think this could be most entertaining.” Louisa reached for the bell and rang it vigorously.
Hester was still busy recounting everything she could to make nursing seem dramatic and glamorous when Maxim Furnival came home. He was a tall, slender man with a dark face, emotional, and made in lines that could as easily sulk or be dazzlingly bright. He smiled at Hester and enquired after her health in the normal manner of politeness, and when Louisa explained who Hester was, and her purpose in coming, he seemed genuinely interested.
They made polite conversation for some little time, Maxim charming, Louisa cool, Hester talking more about her experiences in the Crimea. Only half her attention was upon her answers. She was busy wondering how deeply Maxim had loved Alexandra, or if he had been jealous over Louisa and the ease with which she flirted, her total self-confidence. She did not imagine Louisa being gentle, yielding with pleasure to other than the purely physical. She seemed a woman who must always retain the emotional power. Had Maxim found that cold, a lonely thing when the initial passion had worn off, and then sought a gentler woman, one who could give as well as take? Alexandra Carlyon?
She had no idea. She realized again with a jolt of surprise that she had never seen Alexandra. All she knew of her was Monk's description, and Rathbone's.
Her attention was beginning to flag and she was repeating herself. She saw it in Louisa's face. She must be careful.
But before she could add much more the door opened and a youth of about thirteen came in, very tall and gangling as if he had outgrown his strength. His hair was dark but his eyes were heavy-lidded and clear blue, his nose long. In manner he was unusually diffident, hanging back half behind his father, and looking at Hester with shy curiosity.
“Ah, Valentine.” Maxim ushered him forward. “My son, Valentine, Miss Latterly. Miss Latterly was in the Crimea with Miss Nightingale, Val. She has come to persuade Mama to encourage other young women of good family and education to take up nursing.”
“How interesting. How do you do, Miss Latterly,” Valentine said quietly.
“How do you do,” Hester replied, looking at his face and trying to decide whether the gravity in his eyes was fear or a natural reticence. There was no quickening of interest in his face, and he looked at her with a sort of weary care. The spontaneity she would have expected from someone of his years was absent. She had looked to see an emotion, even if it was boredom or irritation at being introduced to someone in whom he had no interest. Instead he seemed guarded.
Was that a result of there having been a murder in his house so recently, and by all accounts of a man of whom he was very fond? It did not seem unreasonable. He was suffering from shock. Fate had dealt him an extraordinary blow, unseen in its coming, and having no reasonable explanation. Perhaps he no longer trusted rate to be either kind or sensible. Hester's pity was quickened, and again she wished intensely that she understood Alexandra's crime, even if there were no mitigation for it.
They said little more. Louisa was growing impatient and Hester had exhausted all that she could say on the subject, and after a few more polite trivialities she thanked them for their forbearance and took her leave.
“Well?” Major Tiplady demanded as soon as she reached Great Titchfield Street again. “Did you form any opinion? What is she like, this Mrs. Furnival? Would you have been jealous of her?”
Hester was barely through the door and had not yet taken off her cloak or bonnet.
“You were quite right,” she conceded, placing her bonnet on the side table and undoing the button of her cloak and placing it on the hook.”It was definitely a good idea to meet her, and it went surprisingly well.” She smiled at him. “In feet I was astoundingly bold. You would have been proud of me. I charged the enemy to the face, and carried the day, I think.”
“Well don't stand there smirking, girl.” He was thoroughly excited and the pink color rose in his cheeks. “What did you say, and what was she like?”
“I told her”-Hester blushed at the recollection-”that since all women admire her, her influence would be very powerful in encouraging young ladies of breeding and education to take up nursing-and would she use her good offices to that end.”
“Great heavens. You said that?” The major closed his eyes as if to digest this startling piece of news. Then he opened them again, bright blue and wide. “And she believed you?”
“Certainly.” She came over and sat on the chair opposite him. “She is a dashing and very dominant personality, very sure of herself, and quite aware that men admire her and women envy her. I could flatter her absurdly, and she would believe me, as long as I stayed within the bounds of her own field of influence. I might have been disbelieved had I told her she was virtuous or learned-but not that she was capable of influencing people.”
“Oh dear.” He sighed, not in unhappiness, but mystification. The ways of women were something he would
