“You mean if he died?” I said.

She looked rather shocked. Death was “anything happening” — I must remember that.

“If anything happened to Rex,” she said firmly, “why Redvers would be the heir.”

“It’s all very interesting,” I said.

She admitted it. “My mother was here, you see, before the boys were born. She often talked of what happened. I remember her talking about the day the ship was launched. It was quite a to-do launching the ships. Sir Edward saw that it was done in the proper way because he used to say it was good for business. He wanted everyone to know that the Lady Line had added to its power.”

“Naturally,” I said soothingly.

“All the ships as you know are ladies. And Lady Crediton was going to name this one. It was all arranged; she was going to break a bottle of champagne on the side as they do, you know. They had decided to name the ship The Lucky Lady or something like that. The day before the launching there had been trouble at the Castle. Her ladyship had discovered Sir Edward’s feelings for Valerie Stretton and what was going on. She was most upset. She knew his tendencies, but that it should be in the Castle … right under her very nose you might say … made her very angry. She wanted to dismiss Valerie Stretton but Sir Edward wouldn’t hear of it. Oh yes, there was a rare to-do that day. And the next she went out to name the ship and when they all expected her to say ‘I name this ship The Lucky Lady’ or whatever it was, she said instead, ‘I name this ship The Secret Woman.’ Defiance you see!”

“What a flutter that must have caused.”

“The only Woman among the Ladies! But they kept it that way. It shows you, don’t you think, the sort of woman she was. Liked her own way and got it. But this was one thing in which she didn’t get it. She wanted to send Valerie Stretton away. But oh no, said Sir Edward. She stays. It was funny, too, that her ladyship accepted it and Valerie stayed on as the nurse. They were always cool and distant to each other. But there you are, Sir Edward was no ordinary man.”

“He was like an Eastern potentate with his wives and children all under one roof.”

“I wouldn’t be knowing about that,” said Edith. “But there’s not much I don’t know about the Castle.”


May 11th. I thought my patient was dying last evening. She had a terrible attack of asthma and was gasping for her breath. I sent Betsy for Dr. Elgin and when he came he told me that I must be prepared for these attacks. They were dangerous. When she had recovered a little he gave her a sedative and he came to my sitting room (next to my bedroom in the turret) and talked about her.

“It’s an unfortunate situation,” he said. “She would be better in a climate to which she is more accustomed. The sudden changes here affect her. The damp’s no good to her. And she has a touch of consumption, you know. Her temperament doesn’t help.”

“She seems an unhappy woman, Doctor.”

“This marriage is a bit incongruous.”

“Why has she come here? As her husband is so rarely here there doesn’t seem much point.”

“It’s the child, of course. Until Mr. Rex Crediton produces an heir, I suppose the boy is important. Moreover they want him brought up in the business more or less. It’s entirely due to the child that she is here.”

“It seems hard luck on the mother.”

“It’s an unusual situation. You’ve probably heard that the boy is Sir Edward’s grandson — wrong side of the blanket though it may be. But they want family in the business and the more the merrier; I know it was always a sore point with Sir Edward that he had only two sons. He had visualized a large family of them. It seemed to be the one thing over which he had no control and that irked him. Lady Crediton seems determined to carry out his ideas. So that is why young Edward is here to learn the shipping business with his a, b, c.”

“I think Mrs. Stretton is homesick. By the way where is her home?”

“It’s an island in the Pacific — not far from the Friendly Isles. Coralle is the name. I believe her father was French and her mother half Polynesian. She’s like a fish out of water here.”

“The attack last night followed a display of temper.”

“That was to be expected. You must try to keep her calm.”

I smiled ruefully. “She reminds me of a volcano ready to erupt at any moment. The worst possible temperament for one suffering from her complaint.”

“You must try to keep her happy, Nurse.”

“Her husband might do that … if he came home. I sense that his absence is the cause of her unhappiness.”

“She married a sailor so she should expect absences. Watch her diet closely. Never let her take a heavy meal — small and often is the rule.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Just a glass of milk or cocoa with bread and butter for breakfast. And at eleven milk … with perhaps an egg. She could take the egg in the milk. With the midday meal she might take a little wine but not much; and before retiring a glass of milk with a teaspoon of cognac in it.”

“I have the diet sheet, Doctor.”

“Good. If she were happy she’d be better. These distressing attacks are the result of inner tensions. She’ll sleep it off now, and you’ll find she’ll be calm enough when she wakes.”

When the doctor had left I realized how alarmed I had been. I had really thought she was going to die. I can’t pretend that I was fond of her; there was something quite unlovable about her; but I thought if she died I should no longer be at the Castle. And that thought made me very concerned. But of course it is the nature of my work. I am at one place for a while and then as Edith would say “something happens” and my services are no longer required. It’s a rootless existence; and it has been brought home to me since I came to Langmouth — first when I had to leave Anna and now at the prospect of leaving the Castle. I am growing far too fond of this Castle. I like its thick walls and the fact that it’s a fake endears me to it in a way. I think I should have liked Sir Edward. What a pity he died before I came. I have seen his son Rex several times. We seem to meet frequently — more frequently than could be put down to chance. I am enormously interested in him and long to know about his childhood when Valerie Stretton was his nurse, and what he thought of his half brother Redvers. I wish the Captain would come home. I am sure my poor patient would be happier if he did; and it would be interesting to see how they all get on together.


May 12th. Last night I was with my patient when she was coming out of her sedation. Her name is Monique. Such a dignified name does not really suit her. I picture her lying on sandy beaches under palm trees gazing out at the coral reefs about the island. She wears coral quite often and it suits her. I picture her meeting the Captain who would have perhaps gone to this Coralle to pick up copra and fish or something like that to take back to Sydney. I imagined her with exotic red flowers in her hair. He was captivated surely and foolishly, for he married her without thinking how she would fit into Castle Crediton society. But this was pure imagination. It probably happened quite differently.

As I sat beside her, she started to mutter; I heard her say: “Red. Why … Red … You don’t love me.”

Quite revealing for it shows that he is constantly in her thoughts.

Suddenly she said: “Are you there, Nurse?”

“Yes,” I soothed. “Try to rest. It’s what the doctor wants.”

She closed her eyes obediently. She was really beautiful — rather like a doll with her thick black hair and long dark lashes; her skin looked honey yellow against the white of her nightdress; her brow was low. I thought, she will age quickly. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five now.

She was murmuring to herself and I bent over to listen. “He does not want to come back,” she said. “He wishes it had not happened. He wishes to be free.”

Well, madam, I thought, I don’t wonder at it if you get into tempers like you did a short while ago.

She was wild, passionate, and uncontrolled. What would Lady Crediton think of such a creature? One thing she would be pleased about. If one of the brothers had to make such a faux pas at least it wasn’t her precious son. I could imagine her fury if the important Rex made a mésalliance. What would she do? Had she the power to do anything? No doubt she had an interest in the Company; she would most certainly be a very important shareholder.

There were so many interesting things to be learned in the Castle; more interesting in fact than the matrimonial troubles of this pretty little fish out of water whom I had come to nurse.


May 15th. I heard today that the Captain is on his way home and should arrive in four weeks’ time. It was Edward who told me. We have become friends; I must say I find him a bright little fellow and I pity him left to the care of the prim Miss Beddoes. She is the most unimaginative woman imaginable and Edward is really rather a naughty little boy where she is concerned. The other day she brought him in from his walk in the grounds dripping with water. He had decided to take a bath fully dressed in the fountain, he said. She was quite distracted and he only laughed when she scolded him. It is her own fault in a way; she is so lacking in confidence that the shrewd child senses this and makes the most of it. He knows that he has to do what I tell him or go. But I suppose it is easy for me as I am not in control of him. He quite clearly thinks that I am clever and that I am in charge of his Mamma in the same way as poor Miss Beddoes is in charge of him; and to be in authority over a grown-up person makes me very important in his eyes. He comes into his mother’s room and watches me give her medicine. I have a little kitchen where I prepare her food and he watches me do that. He likes to have what he calls “tasters” from Mamma’s plate. Miss Beddoes frowns on this; she says it is eating between his meals and spoils his appetite; and as in the case of most young people the more this is forbidden the more it is to his taste. He is a lonely little boy in some respects. He is so small; the Castle is so big and his mother has no idea how to treat a child. Sometimes she spoils him and wants to fondle him; at others she loses her temper with him and has no time for him. He is not fond of her, I can see. He despises Miss Beddoes; he is in awe of Lady Crediton; but he is fond of Grandmamma Stretton, and goes to see her every day but Jane won’t let him stay long because she said he tires her mistress. It’s small wonder that he has become attached to me. I am, I suppose, predictable; my attitude is unchanging. I never fuss over him; in fact I take little notice of him; but we like each other.