The Sins of the Wolf - Anne Perry [142]
Gilfeather stirred in his seat as if to make some interruption, but knew his time was not yet, and restrained himself with some difficulty.
With a supreme effort of self-control, Rathbone also remained motionless.
“And Hester Latterly served in the hospital at Scutari?” Argyll asked, his face expressionless except for a mild interest. Whatever emotions of triumph or expectancy boiled inside him, there was nothing in his features to betray them.
“Yes, she was one of the best nurses there.”
“In what way, ma’am?”
“Dedication—and skill. There were too few surgeons and too many patients.” Her voice was calm and controlled, but there was an intensity and feeling in it which commanded the attention of everyone in the room. “Often a nurse had to act as she thought he would have done, or a man’s life would be lost which she could have saved.”
There was a gasp somewhere in the gallery, a hissing of anger at such suggested arrogance.
The judge’s face registered his acknowledgment of it.
Florence took no more notice than if it had been a fly on the windowpane.
“Hester had both the courage and the knowledge to do so,” she went on. “There are many men alive in England now who would be buried in the Crimea were she a lesser woman.”
Argyll waited several seconds to allow the full impact of what she had said to sink into the minds of the jury. Their faces were filled with battling emotions: awe of Florence, which was almost a religious reverence; and memories of their own of war and the losses of war, brothers and sons buried in the carnage, or perhaps saved by the efforts of such women. Mixed with those feelings were outrage at the challenge to centuries of masculine leadership, previously unquestioned rights. The confusion was painful, the doubts and the fears profound.
“Thank you,” Argyll acknowledged at last. “And did you also find her personally honest, both truthful and careful of the rights and possessions of others?”
“Absolutely and without exception,” Florence replied.
Argyll hesitated.
The tension was unbearable. Rathbone sat hardly daring to draw breath. The decision Argyll made now might be the difference between winning and losing, between life and the hangman’s noose. Only he and Argyll knew the weight of what hung in that moment. If he succeeded in maneuvering Gilfeather into attacking Florence she would retaliate with a passion and emotional force that would sweep away all the quibbles and arguments he could raise. On the other hand, if he had the wisdom to retreat, and dismiss her, her value to Hester would be lost.
Was it enough? Had he goaded Gilfeather sufficiently, masked the hook by the bait?
Very slowly Argyll smiled at Florence Nightingale, thanking her again for having come, and resumed his seat.
Rathbone sat with his heart pounding. The room seemed to sway around him. Seconds stretched into eternity.
With a scrape of chair legs, Gilfeather stood up.
“You are one of the most deeply loved and highly respected women in the nation, madam, and I do not wish to seem to detract from that in any way,” he said carefully. “However, the cause of justice is higher than any individual, and there are questions I must ask you.”
“Of course,” she agreed, facing him squarely.
“Miss Nightingale, you say that Miss Latterly is an excellent nurse—indeed, that she has displayed skills equal to those of many field surgeons when faced with cases of emergency?”
“That is true.”
“And that she is diligent, honest and brave?”
“She is.” There was no hesitation in her voice, no shred of uncertainty.
He smiled. “Then, madam, how is it that she is obliged to earn her living, not in some senior position in a hospital, using these remarkable qualities, but traveling on an overnight train from Edinburgh to London, administering a simple dose of medicine to an elderly lady whose health is no worse than that of most persons of her age? Surely that could have been done quite adequately by a perfectly ordinary lady’s maid?” There was challenge and triumph even in the angle of his body where he stood, the lift of his shoulders.