Ada did not sleep well that night. The presence of her suitcases by the door loomed large like a feeling of dread over her. By the time Ethel knocked on her door at 6:30 she was already up, washed and dressed.
"I've brought us both breakfast," Ethel said, placing the tray on the table beside Ada's bed, "I didn't want you to be alone. And I'm not in the mood for anyone else's company."
"What am I going to do without you Ethel? Oxfordshire is so far away."
"Write to me, I want to know everything."
"I will, and perhaps you can visit, this little already loves you Ethel."
The two friends shared their last meal together, and Ethel remained glued to Ada's bed until the last possible moment."
"I must go Ada," Ethel said, rising to her feet, "someone needs to keep an eye on Dr Ingrams now that you're not there."
Ada got to her feet. Ethel burst into tears and threw her arms around Ada. Ada's composure broke as easily, and the two friends stood, wrapped in each other's embrace, silent tears cascading down their faces.
"Dry those tears Nurse Bennett," Ada insisted as they broke apart, and with a curt nod added, "carry on."
"Goodbye Ada," Ethel sniffed.
"Goodbye Ethel."
At 8:30 sharp, as promised, a cab arrived to take Ada to Paddington. She had been standing outside the hospital for some ten minutes before it was due to arrive, more in hope than expectation that someone else would come and say goodbye. Nobody came. As the cab drove off, the clatter of the horse's hooves ringing in her ears, Ada took one final glance up at The London. Her home for over ten years, she knew now she'd never see it again.
The train ride from Paddington transformed the scenery from grey to green. Gently rolling hills, trees, and fields, replaced the sprawl and smog of London. Upon reaching her destination, Ada heaved all her worldly possessions off the train and stepped out into the small, rural-looking, station of the village that was now to be her home. A sense of trepidation washed over her.
"Miss Russell?" asked a tall, dark-haired gentleman in bottle-green livery.
"Yes," Ada replied.
"Roberts is my name, I understand Lady Burbridge is expecting you."
"Yes, indeed," Ada confirmed, rather overwhelmed.
"Your carriage awaits, Miss," Mr Roberts said, "please, let me take those," he added, taking hold of her suitcases.
Following the footman out of the station, Ada gasped at the sight that greeted her. A magnificent green and gold carriage did indeed await her, drawn by four dapple-greys and accompanied by another footman and a driver, all in identical livery. Roberts placed Ada's cases onto a parcel shelf, and then gently helped her into the carriage.
"Drive on!" Roberts called from the footplate, and the four horses set off in a rapid trot through the winding lanes of the village. After fifteen minutes or so, the carriage turned off the road and through a pair of tall wrought-iron gates, along a gravel driveway, and up to the imposing façade of a Georgian manor house.
"Oh!" Ada gasped under her breath, her eyes scanning the red brickwork edifice and the white sash windows that towered above her.
"Welcome, Miss Russell, to Burbridge Hall," Roberts said, taking Ada's hand and helping her out of the carriage, "Davies, bring the lady's cases."
Roberts led Ada by the hand up to the front door of the house, with Davies following with the cases. He gave the doorbell a clang. A distinguished-looking, grey haired butler answered the door.
"Miss Russell, Mr Sanders," Roberts said, "M'Lady is expecting her."
"This way, Miss Russell," Sanders replied, scanning Ada suspiciously from top to toe.
Ada followed Mr Sander's tailcoat into the house, across a marble-clad entrance hall and up a grand mahogany staircase. Chandeliers sparkled above her head, and the sash windows dappled light across the stairwell. Ada was led into a large, airy, but comfortably homely-feeling parlour. There, sitting in a wingback chair, was Lady Constance Burbridge.
"Miss Russell, madame," Mr Sanders announced.
A short, rotund lady slowly got to her feet. The lines on her face suggested that she was no more than fifty, but her shuffling gait and careworn eyes were those of a far older woman. She smiled welcomingly at Ada and beckoned her forward. Ada obliged. Lady Constance took Ada's hands in hers and said "Welcome to Burbridge Hall Miss Russell."
"Thank you, Lady Burbridge," Ada replied.
"I imagine you will want to make yourself comfortable after your long journey. Sanders, show Miss Russell to her quarters and when you are ready my dear, come and join me."
"Yes, my Lady," Ada answered.
"This way, Miss Russell."
Ada followed Mr Sanders out of the parlour and out onto the landing, up another flight of stairs and into a large, airy room. Ada gasped as she looked around the place that she could now call her own. A four poster bed hung with plum velvet curtains stood against one wall, wardrobes, a dressing table and, she peered around the corner to check, a private bathroom. There were chairs by the fireplace, and a small writing desk. She also noticed, pushed into a corner, was a crib.
"I hope this suffices Miss Russell?" Sanders asked with a vane of disinterest.
"Yes, thank you," Ada replied.
Sanders left her, and Ada's first move was to dash to the lavatory. Small though it was in comparison to the other rooms she had seen so far, this was the most luxurious bathroom she had ever seen. Even the enamel and chrome seemed to sparkle.
Having made herself comfortable, washed her face and hands and pulled a brush through her hair, Ada stepped out of her room and returned to the parlour. The door was slightly ajar. Ada took a deep breath and crept into the room.
"Don't be shy Miss Russell," Lady Constance called, "come, sit beside me."
Ada crossed the room and sat next to Lady Constance. She didn't really know what to say, but thankfully, Lady Constance broke the silence.
"I am very sorry for what has happened to you."
Ada swallowed the lump in her throat, "It's not a path I would have chosen," Ada admitted.
"Would you like some coffee?"
"Yes, please."
Lady Constance rang a bell beside her chair. A young-looking maid appeared in an instance.
"Coffee for two please, Adelaide."
"Yes ma'am," Adelaide replied, curtseying to both women. Once they were alone again, Lady Constance continued.
"What has Sydney told you about me?"
"Nothing, my Lady," Ada admitted, "other than that you have a number of ailments which require constant nursing."
"You left all you knew behind to come and live in the home of a complete stranger? Without a second thought or questions."
"Matron made it very clear that I had no other choice," Ada sighed, "my choice was between here and the Workhouse."
"I have known Sydney Holland for many years Miss Russell. He and my late-husband were at Trinity Hall, Cambridge together. One thing he is very good at is getting exactly what he wants, and knowing exactly who to ask to get exactly what he wants. I imagine when he heard of your condition, I would have been the first person he came to."
At that moment, Adelaide arrived with a coffee tray and a salver of cakes and macaroons. Once the maid had served them and left, Lady Constance continued.
"I was a Foundling Miss Russell. Oh yes," she added, noticing Ada's expression, "my mother was in service, somewhere in London, and was impregnated by one of the house's manservants. Her employer threw her out of course. She gave birth to my twin brother and I on the steps of The Foundling's Hospital, where she had staggered through her labour to try and get help. I found out years later that she died within two days of the birth. I know neither her name nor the place where she was buried. I imagine she lies in a pauper's grave somewhere. My brother and I were adopted together. Our parents were childless and wanted sons. They were preparing to take Albert away, but apparently he would only stop crying when he was placed beside me. In the end, to stop Albert crying, they took me too. We were both lucky, we were adopted into a grand family, we were loved, given the best of schooling and the best that life could offer us. I met my late-husband after my debutante ball. Who would have thought, the girl born in the gutter being presented at court, marrying a man with a title."
Ada sipped her coffee throughout her benefactor's monologue. She suddenly felt a wave of warmth and admiration for Mr Holland.
"Do you believe that everyone, man, woman, or child, deserves equality in this world, Miss Russell?"
Slightly taken back by the question, Ada stuttered for a moment before being able to form an answer, "I believe that no-one deserves to be treated as less of a person than anyone else, regardless of their background, their wealth, or their sex."
Lady Constance smiled at Ada, "Had I been a little younger and in better health, I would be out holding onto the coattails of Mrs Pankhurst," Lady Constance admitted, "women have suffered inequality for far too long. You, Miss Russell, are a case in point. A man has done you a great wrong, the greatest wrong a man could do against a woman, yet you are the one who has suffered. You are the one whose life has been torn apart, who has had to give up her home, her job, leave her friends behind, and carry the burden of his actions for the rest of your life. Not him. Only you. When Sydney told me of your story, I knew I had to help you. I could not knowingly allow another woman to go through what my mother went through. I fear I may not, but I hope your child lives long enough to see men and women considered equals, in suffrage, employment, and in love."
"I cannot put into words how grateful I am to you," Ada replied, "I hope that I can repay even some of your kindness."
"At luncheon, I will acquaint you with Nurse Richardson, and afterwards she will take you through all of my care needs. Have you nursed patients with cardiovascular disease, gout, diabetes, and asthma?"
Ada's eyes suddenly widened, "Yes," she replied, "but not all in the same patient."
Lady Constance laughed at Ada, "well, you'll have a lot of fun with me then!"
"May I ask a question?" Ada enquired.
"Of course my dear"
"What is to happen, when my time comes, who is to take care of you?"
"That can be arranged," Lady Constance assured, with a growing admiration for her new young ward, "when that time comes, your care will be the priority, and the midwives at the cottage hospital I hear are excellent. I don't suppose you have had any attention in that regard?"
"No, Lady Constance, nothing."
"I will contact the Matron and arrange for you to be seen."
"Thank you, I'm sorry," Ada squeaked, sobbing slightly.
"There, there," Lady Constance soothed, patting Ada's shoulder, "what is your Christian name? Sydney never told me."
"Ada."
"There, there Ada, you are safe here, you and your baby will be looked after here."
"Thank you."