‘Oh we’ve the room now, sir.’ Her eyes were weary and sad and there were shadows beneath them that told of long months of soul-destroying nursing of the wounded, sick and dying. ‘We’ve a few patients left, of course. Those still too ill to make the journey home,’ she said, confirming what the squire had already thought. She sighed heavily, ‘Of course there are several who are so shell-shocked, they don’t know who they are or where they come from. Naturally, we shall repatriate them as soon as we can but . . .’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, dear me, it’s so sad, so very sad.’

Esther’s heart leapt and plummeted all in the space of a second. Hope soared and then died. Jonathan might be alive, he might be here. Yet if he were it meant he was so ill that he was scarcely alive.

‘Could we – could I see the patients?’ She knew there was longing in her voice and desperation in her green eyes as she looked at the sister.

‘Well,’ the woman said doubtfully, looking Esther up and down. ‘Most of them are very ill, you know. Not – not pleasant sights . . .’ Then she must have caught some of the pleading in Esther’s tone, for she added more gently, ‘Are you looking for someone? Is that why you’ve come?’

Esther swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat, and, not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

‘Ah, well, of course, that makes a difference. Perhaps in the morning . . .’

Esther grasped the woman’s wrist. ‘Now, please. I beg you . . .’ There was no mistaking the urgency in her plea.

The sister nodded. ‘Very well,’ she said, relenting. ‘This way. Please be as quiet as you can.’

Holding a lamp high for them to see their way, she led them along cold, dank passages. Stone walls on either side ran away into the darkness, further than the light showed. Their footsteps echoed eerily on the flags as they passed from room to room, and between the rows of beds on either side. Many were in use, their occupants, lying swathed in bandages, motionless and silent, or tossing restlessly, muttering in delirium. Some sat up in their beds staring fixedly ahead of them, taking no notice of the people who came and went, still trapped in their own world of horror, reliving the nightmare played out in their mind again and again and again.

Esther peered into each face, almost holding her breath each time, then letting it go with a mingled feeling of disappointment and yet relief.

Jonathan, oh, Jonathan. I want to find you, but not here, not like this, not maimed and crippled, or deranged. I want you alive and whole and . . .

She stopped at the foot of one of the beds and the sister, glancing back to see if she were following, came back and held the lantern higher.