Free The Trial of Marie Montrecourt by Kay Patrick Page A

attached. Inside was a card. It read: All that is left of the fire. It seemed to interest you, Daphne.
    As Isabelle went out to answer a knock at the front door, Marie opened the parcel. It contained Farnsworth’s Medical Dictionary . She smiled – so Daphne had never got round to returning it to the publisher then. She looked back at the card. At least she was well enough to write.
    Isabelle entered with Mr Pickard and Marie immediately assumed that he had come to give her news of Daphne. “Have you found out where she is? Can I see her?”
    John Pickard was very angry. “She’s at St Martin’s Hospital being well looked after. My main concern is you.”
    “I’m well enough,” she said.
    “I warned you against seeing Daphne Senior and this is the result. You will never communicate with that woman again, do you understand? If you do, the consequence will be an immediate return to the convent.”
    “I will see her,” she said to Isabelle when they were alone. “She mustn’t think I don’t care.”
    *
    For another two days the Mintons and John Pickard refused her request, but the anxiety about her friend was threatening to make Marie ill again. So, Pickard reluctantly gave his permission for them to meet one last time. It was agreed that Isabelle would accompany her to the ward, while Geoffrey waited outside the entrance in a hansom.
    St Martin’s Hospital for Women was not a very prepossessing place. It was small and cramped and not very clean. There were eleven beds crammed into each of the eight wards. There were three wards on the ground and first floor, and two wards on the second. A small group of grim-faced women in starched white caps and aprons attempted to keep the place clean – obviously not very successfully, though, because the smell of urine and vomit was overpowering.
    Daphne was on the second floor of the soulless building, and Marie and Isabelle climbed the bleached stone staircase to reach it. When they arrived, Marie saw a figure at the far end of the ward putting on her coat. She moved forward quickly.
    “Daphne?”
    As her friend turned, Marie was distressed to see that her face was still badly lacerated and swollen. One eye was severely bruised and her upper lip was split. Daphne’s attempt at a smile ended in a grimace.
    “Look at me. It’s a good thing I was no picture to begin with, isn’t it? I knew you’d come. They told me you weren’t hurt.” Daphne put an arm around her friend and hugged her. Isabelle turned away, evidently finding the familiarity embarrassing.
    Marie dropped her voice so that Isabelle wouldn’t hear. “Daphne, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ran away after the march. I was such a coward.”
    Daphne smiled grimly. “My best advice to you is to keep on running. Get as far away from me as you can. I’ve ruined enough lives already. The women will be sacked from their jobs. They’ll be destitute. I’ve let them down. I’ve failed in everything I’ve tried to do. I’m not sure things will ever change. Maybe I was wrong to even try.”
    Marie hadn’t expected Daphne to sound so defeated. She tried to think of something encouraging to say. “You did what you thought was right.” It wasn’t quite the inspiring turn of phrase she’d intended.
    “Come along, Miss Senior.” The matron had arrived. “We haven’t all day to stand around waiting while you two gossip.” She clapped her hands briskly.
    “Will I hear from you?” said Marie, as she followed Daphne towards the door. Isabelle trailed a few feet behind.
    Daphne kept on walking. “Best not, I think. I’ve caused enough trouble for you as it is. Did you get the book?”
    “Oh, my goodness, yes. I wanted to thank you.”
    “Don’t thank me. You might as well have it.”
    Outside the entrance, Geoffrey was pacing up and down. He was relieved to see his wife and Marie emerge at last, and he opened the door of the carriage for them. Isabelle climbed in, but Marie lingered for a moment longer