"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Ada asked several minutes later when Ethel had loosened her embrace.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Ethel replied honestly, "I didn't want to tell you I was coming and then for you to be disappointed if plans had to be cancelled. Oh I have missed you, tell me everything."

"Well, I am still here, I'm still a Lady's nursemaid, I'm still rather pregnant," Ada began to list nonchalantly.

"You look ready to burst," Ethel said, "if we both didn't know better I would have said you'd got your dates wrong."

"Thirty three weeks and six days, exactly," Ada replied with a wry smile, "but you're right, I can't go on much longer, I'm so tired every moment of the day, I can't sleep at night for pain, and heartburn, and being kicked in the bladder, and I honestly don't know which bit of me aches the most."

"Has anyone been looking after you?" Ethel asked.

"I've seen a midwife a few times, but that is about all," Ada admitted.

"May I?" Ethel asked, reaching her hands towards Ada.

Ada nodded, loosened her clothing, and rearranged herself on the bed. Ethel, with the notes she had made from Wrench's Rotunda Midwifery whirling through her mind, began to palpate Ada's abdomen.

"I didn't realise you had taken your midwifery exams Nurse Bennett," Ada commented.

"I haven't, I" Ethel began.

"Read it in a book?" Ada finished the sentence for her, with a smile.

"You know me too well. Baby is lying transverse, as to be expected this far away from your due date, you're going to have to hang in there a little longer I'm afraid."

"Urgh!" Ada growned, slumping back onto her pillows, "I just want this to be over. Whoever said pregnancy was a time to be enjoyed…" her voice trailed off into a quiet whimper.

"Baby feels quite big," Ethel added, slightly awkwardly, as if she did not quite know how to break this news.

"Just when I thought labour was going to be easy," Ada sighed, the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice, "Oh Ethel, I'm so scared," she added, in a far graver tone, "I want nothing more than this baby, but I am so worried about what's going to happen when they arrive. I don't know what to do."

"Have you spoken to your mother?" Ethel asked.

"My parents know of the child. They have suggested that I find someone to marry before I show my face in the village."

"What!" exclaimed Ethel, "how can they say that? They know of the circumstances in which the child was conceived?"

Ada nodded, "they know. But I am still an unmarried mother, and a shame on the family."

"That's so unjust, you're their daughter."

"And my father is a Bishop!" Ada spat back, "yes, the Right Reverend Russell, who sees his daughter as neither right or reverent. I don't just have my family on my back I have the entire Anglican church."

"It's all so unfair, everything that has happened to you. Why must it always be women that suffer?"

"You sound like Lady Constance, between the two of you you'll have a suffrage rally started by tea time!" Ada smiled at her dear friend, and added, "we should dress for lunch."

Ethel found lunch a somewhat awkward affair. Not that anyone had been uncivil to anyone, but she was acutely aware that the strain of conformity was getting to Ada. Even the simplest of activities, eating luncheon and making polite conversation, were exhausting her. Ethel sensed that her friend would have done anything for a bowl of warm soup snuggled in her eiderdown. But, being the consummate professional that she was, she soldiered on through multiple courses and obvious discomfort

"You should take Ethel for a stroll around the grounds," Lady Constance suggested to Ada as they all finished, "it is a pleasant day and the fresh air will do you all good."

"That would be lovely," Ethel chirped in reply, "if Ada is up to it?" she added, turning to Ada. Ada nodded a silent reply.

Out in the fresh air of the afternoon, Ethel noticed Ada visibly relax. Exhaustion darkened her eyes and the healthy glow that radiated from her face when they had last been together had lost its shine, but free from the confines of the house, a small part of the Ada Russell she knew and loved suddenly began to appear. The two women walked through the deerpark, through the trees that backed onto the stables, and around the paddocks. As they began to turn back towards Burbridge Hall, thoughts of the previous day's events resurfaced in Ethel's mind.

"All will be well," Ethel reassured, "I know it will be."

"I hope you're right," Ada replied.

Ethel did not answer immediately. Sensing her friend's unease, Ada stopped, reached out, and took hold of Ethel's wrist. Their eyes met for a moment but neither said anything. After a moment, Ada moved her grip from Ethel's wrist to her hand and held it gently.

"What's wrong?" Ada asked.

"Yesterday, Dr Culpin and I treated a woman called Lucy after she had been brought into the Receiving Room. She was about your age, she was tall, slim, and beautiful, with dark hair and eyes you could drown in. And she'd been raped."

"Oh!" Ada breathed, the slightest wince darting across her face.

"The police had caught the man in the act, so to speak," Ethel continued, a slight flush appearing on her cheeks, "I wonder if it was the same man."

"There are a lot of dangerous men in London, Ethel," Ada replied matter-of-factly, "if it was the same man it would be a rather, unhappy, coincidence."

"His photograph was published in this morning's paper, would you recognise him?"

"If you want me to look, I will," Ada began, her curt manner returning when faced with the challenge from her former junior colleague, "but I doubt it will do any good. It was dark and I wasn't exactly staring into his eyes as he fucked me."

Ethel stared at Ada dumbstruck at her friend's uncharacteristic coarseness.

"Well, how else would you describe it?" Ada asked, a wry smile wrinkling the corners of her mouth, "making love hardly covers it!"

"No I suppose not," Ethel replied.

Returning to Burbridge Hall, Ethel and Ada climbed the grand staircase up to Ethel's room. Ada slumped onto the bed, kicking her boots off her swollen ankles as she did so. Without a word, Ethel sat on the floor and massaged them, giggling as Ada verged on a purr in response.

"You'll make a good nurse one day," Ada jested, "oww!" she added as Ethel batted her across the shin, before continuing the massage.

"Better?" Ethel asked a few moments later.

"Yes, thank you," Ada replied, flopping onto her back on Ethel's bed.

Ethel began to rummage through her bag and pulled out the parcel that Matron had given her, and the now very crumpled morning newspaper. The newspaper she placed within arms reach, but she placed the parcel beside Ada.

"A present, from Matron," Ethel responded to Ada's reaction to the parcel landing softly beside her.

"From Matron?" Ada asked quizzically, heaving herself up to a seating position with what appeared to be all of her strength, "what is it?"

"How am I to know," Ethel replied, "I am not party to Matron's secrets! Open it and find out."

Ada placed the parcel onto her lap and began to undo the delicately knotted strings that surrounded it, before carefully unfurling the paper. Her left hand covered her mouth in astonishment as she saw the contents. Inside was an assortment of clearly handmade items: a multicoloured patchwork blanket; booties; bonnets; several cotton smocks; half a dozen napkins and pins.

"Oh Matron!" Ada gasped.

"There's a letter," Ethel pointed out, spotting a small white envelope amongst the folds of material. Ada tore open the letter and began to read aloud.

"My dear Ada,

You are embarking on a journey I will never take, and one that you did not expect to, so as I write I feel like a Probationer again, not always sure of what to do, or what to say, or what exactly is needed. I imagine you are feeling a similar level of apprehension as your time becomes ever closer.

Please accept these small tokens, I hope that they prove to be of use in the first weeks of motherhood.

When you are recovered, I invite you and your baby to stay with me, here at The London. I do hope that you accept this invitation. There is no hurry to reply, please do so at your own convenience.

With the warmest of wishes,

Eva Luckes"

"Matron lost for words, who would have thought it?" Ethel giggled.

"Well, this baby now has something to wear when they arrive," Ada mused.

"Have you nothing prepared?" Ethel asked, her eyes widening in astonishment.

"I have a few things, but I was planning on using my confinement…"

"That's not quite the purpose of your confinement," Ethel interrupted, overannunicating the final word.

"All will be well," Ada sang in reply, "you keep saying so. Now," she continued more seriously, the smile suddenly sliding from her face, "there was something else you wanted to show me."

Ethel picked up the newspaper, rearranged the pages and handed it to Ada. Ada scanned the headline and skimmed through the article, before allowing her eyes to settle on the cruel, scowling face of the accused. Ethel watched the light fade from Ada's eyes. Ada almost wished that she did recognise the man. If only to know the name of the man whose child she was carrying. Ethel knew that she did not recognise the man almost as soon as Ada did.

"I'm sorry Ethel," Ada sighed, "I don't recognise that man."