“Flo, then, and you must call me Mariah.” She felt relaxed with the woman’s warm, friendly manner and practical approach to the problems at hand. As Florence escorted her down the hall toward the first ward, where most of the officers were quartered, Mariah had a chance to chat with her and found she was surprised by the woman’s cultured speech. Ladies were not encouraged to work in hospitals nor to enter nursing as a profession. In fact, Florence Nightingale was known at home in England as that “extraordinary Nightingale woman.” Entering the ward, Mariah found all eyes turned to them, and with a rush of sympathy, Mariah recognized a dreadful homesickness in those pained eyes. The majority of the men were in their middle-twenties although here and there were a few grizzled veterans. Walking between the crowded beds, Mariah was introduced to them and she found herself slightly embarrassed by their eager attentions, A young, one-armed corporal, with a barely healed red scar across his cheek, reverently kissed her hand.
“How kind of you to visit, Lady Carleigh! Your husband is much admired among the Lancers for his horsemanship.” It was the best compliment he could come up with, since Jared had been assigned to Lord Cardigan’s staff almost at the outset of his regiment’s arrival and had no chance to fight on the field. When Florence gently urged her forward, to the others anxiously waiting to meet her, the corporal, John Haverly, added a request. “Please, m’lady, if the sight of the wounded doesn’t offend you…please come again. Just the sight of a lovely lady from home eases the pain.”
Mariah promised she’d return and after being introduced to the rest of the ward inmates who were equally as enthusiastic, found herself back at Florence’s office, slightly shaken by her experience, but determined to return and do what she could to ease their suffering. It seemed little enough compared to the sacrifices they’d been asked to make. So many young men in the prime of their lives had been maimed or brutally scarred.
“Well, Mariah, what did you think of the tour? I can tell from your expression that, inwardly at least, you must have been appalled.” Her eyes took on a distant, haunted glaze. “There’s still so much progress that could be accomplished if only the surgeon general’s staff weren’t so mired in tradition. We’ve only scratched the surface in sanitary care for these poor boys.”
Mariah felt a small share of the woman’s helplessness and felt comfortable enough to confide her true feelings. “It’s a shame the generals, the military geniuses who plan these campaigns, don’t think of the future of these poor, destroyed men before they charge into battle. Although it’s spoken of in England as a great and courageous war, I’ve gathered that the entire campaign has been a series of blunders. That’s treasonous talk in some quarters, but I’ve never been one to hide from the truth.”
“You’re perfectly right, just between the two of us, of course. Were I to admit to such beliefs, I’d never receive any support from benefactors. More men have died from unsanitary hospital conditions and disease than have perished on the field of battle. A thoroughly frustrating fact for anyone who cares about these youngsters.”
Mariah’s eyes were clouded over with anxiety. While Florence had talked, she’d been thinking about Jared and Tony, What if they were wounded? The thought of either ending up with one leg or arm was horrible and she said a quick prayer for their safety. As long as Jared was part of Cardigan’s staff, he was relatively safe, although Tony was in more danger as part of the regular regiment. “I’d like to volunteer my time several days a week.
Perhaps I could help some of the wounded to write home or read to them.” She looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “It’s not entirely a selfless request. I’m afraid. I have several friends in the regiments, besides my husband, and I’d rather keep occupied. The thought of their ending up here worries me more than I care to admit.”
Florence thanked her for her voluntary contribution of time, and hooking her arm companionably in Mariah’s, escorted her to the front of the hospital. “I only wish there were more ladies who would concern themselves so, Mariah.” Glancing worriedly back at the hospital, she added, “There’s only so much we can accomplish, unfortunately. I don’t think you can realize yet how much a little attention will do for their morale.”
Seeing Mariah safely into a hired vehicle, Florence waved at her new friend until the carriage was out of sight, then climbed the steps to the entrance, feeling a trifle less burdened.
When Mariah reached her home, she found a delightful surprise awaiting her. Tony was being entertained by an excited Beth in the small parlor of the house. Handing her cloak and parasol to the steward, Mariah found herself enveloped in a hearty embrace as Tony swept her into his arms and whirled her about. Laughing gaily, she begged him to stop. “You’ll make me dizzy, Tony!”
Placing her a foot in front of him, Tony seriously surveyed her and pronounced her looking as well as ever. “What a sight for sore eyes the both of you are! I couldn’t believe the note saying you’d arrived.” He placed his arm affectionately about her shoulder, drawing her toward a seat. He sat opposite her and Beth, plying them with questions about London and Stuart. Finally, a hesitant, wary look settled over his lean, handsome face. “Mariah, I talked with Jared last night. I know this is none of my business, but I think you’re making a big mistake by divorcing him.”
Beth interjected her own comment before Mariah could reply. “You’re right, Tony, it is none of your business! You weren’t there when Mariah lost the baby. It’s just your friendship that makes you stick up for Jared.”
A stubborn frown creased Tony’s face in reply to his sister’s unfair remark. Deciding that she didn’t want her marriage to be the source of trouble between the normally close and affectionate Winslows, Mariah firmly put her foot down. “Tony, Beth…whatever has to be settled will be between Jared and myself. I see no reason to draw either of you into our squabbles. Tony, Jared’s quite capable of taking care of his own position, and so am I. Now, I’d rather discuss something a little less arbitrary, if you please.”
Tony and Beth both looked a little sheepish at having argumentively chosen sides and Beth managed to change the subject to a recent battle action that Tony and Rob had witnessed. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, with Tony regaling them with tales of attacks and cavalry charges, sensitively leaving out the more bloody aspects. With little protest, he was persuaded to stay for dinner but afterward had to leave to catch a boat back to Balaclava. Mariah had a moment alone with him, after Beth had bid him farewell and she took advantage of it to give him a message for Jared. “Tell him I haven’t decided about the divorce. I’m not even sure we’d be granted one. It would have to pass through the House of Lords, and few are being granted now. I’d like to talk to him again, if he can get leave.” Mariah paused and straightened his collar, smiling appealingly up at him. “You can’t say I’m not willing to meet him halfway about this! Now,” she added, kissing him lightly on the cheek, “you take care, and come to visit as often as possible.”
Somewhat wistfully, Mariah reentered the house to retire early and ponder the day’s events.
Chapter 42
Time passed, with September being an extremely busy month for Mariah, and she had little free time to wonder over the absence of word from Jared. At first, when she heard nothing, she assumed Tony had forgotten to give her message to Jared but the second time he’d come to visit, Tony had grumbled something about Cardigan keeping Jared busy, too busy to allow him even a day’s leave. Mariah had left it at that, unwilling to pry further with questions that would only embarrass Tony. Jared was simply being obstinate. With her hospital duties taking up most of her time, Mariah managed to shove the thought of a reconciliation to the back of her mind.
During the month, a bloody battle was fought, and Mariah, horrified by the casualties, still managed to help out as much as she could. Here, she would carry water to a patient burning with fever, or there, give comfort to a soldier who awoke to find the surgeons had cut off a limb. One young infantryma
n in particular had affected her. With his dying breath, he imagined her the sweet-heart he’d left behind in Surrey. Her tears splashed down on her hands, which the boy held tightly within his grasp and he whispered farewell to his Adeline.
Bathing feverish brows and steeling their senses to ignore the cries of delirious men who begged for a merciful death, Mariah and the other nurses moved about, trying to alleviate as much of the suffering as they could. Several times Mariah felt faint in the packed wards with their mixed smells of blood, vomit and urine. Warned ahead of time by Florence, she had liberally doused herself in perfume oil and carried a scented handkerchief but even so, several times she had to fight the nausea.
Immediately following the battle, the casualties began to flow in and the Barracks hospital became a beehive of activity. Orderlies, nurses, doctors, all bustled about in the overcrowded hallways and wards as more and more wounded were carried through the door. Finally, there was no available space until the men who had died in surgery were taken away.
Toward four o’clock the next morning, the load seemed to ease. Men with gaping holes in various parts of their bodies, encrusted in their own filth and blood, still lay on dirty straw pallets set hastily on the floor. Many, although seriously wounded, had not yet been attended to. There were so few doctors and the wounded so far outnumbered them. Working like puppets, they had no time for long deliberation and made life-and-death decisions that would leave many of the young soldiers with a limp or a crutch for the rest of their lives.
In Florence’s office Mariah took time for a sip of cool water, and closed her eyes with weariness. They’d been working almost fourteen hours. She remembered, when she’d first arrived, how sympathetic she’d been with Florence’s many frustrations. Now, deeply grieving for the tortured souls that lay like so much refuse about the halls, she knew the depths of those frustrations. No matter what you do, she thought wearily, there’s always more. Even now, I should be moving about, trying to help. A tear slipped from her eyes as she considered the futility of it all. A hint of self-pity touched her as she mused that she hadn’t been cut out for this kind of service. In answer, her conscience reminded her that neither had Florence, for she, too, had been gently reared. Yet, even at this moment, she still moved through the wards, ministering like an angel to those who needed her.
The thought spurred Mariah’s flagging will, and, feeling a little refreshed, she rose to resume her rounds. Commandeering an orderly, she had him fetch a pail of boiled, sterile water and went about sponging the perspiring bodies. Although she wanted to, Mariah had strict orders not to bathe the wounds directly, which might result in hemorrhaging before the doctor could reach the patient. Stepping carefully, Mariah held her lamp high, searching out the most restless men.
Suddenly a hand shot out of the darkness, grasping her skirt as it swung past. Startled, Mariah stopped and lowered her lantern. She was stunned when it illuminated Tony’s blood-streaked face. Quickly kneeling at his side, Mariah cast a worried glance over him, wondering what wounds had brought him in. “Tony, I had no idea you were here!” A blood-encrusted gash on his shoulder seemed to be the only wound. Disobeying her orders, she had the orderly hand her a fresh towel and after bathing the deep bullet graze clean, she packed it with a heavy bandage that would hold until one of the doctors could see Tony.
“Ah, you’re an angel, Mariah,” Tony said hoarsely. If I’d known I’d be treated by you, I’d have thrown myself in the enemy’s path long before this!” He gave her a joking wink and eased back on the pallet.
“Tony, Jared wasn’t in the battle, was he?”
Tony’s eyes opened and he answered slowly, as though he didn’t want to tell her. “Yes, he was, but don’t worry. Even though he was close to the heaviest of the action, he didn’t fall. I was hit almost at the end and I saw him helping some wounded off the field.” As if in answer to her silent question, he told her how Jared had come to be assigned to active duty.
“The order came through that if Cardigan wished, he could release Jared for active duty. It was up to his Lordship, though, and Jared was persuasive enough to make him think he could be of more use on the field.”
Mariah couldn’t suppress, a tight frown. Asking the orderly to tell Dr. Franklin she had his next patient ready, she waited until he’d left them and then turned to Tony. Tugging with all of her strength, she managed to pull off his expensive boots and, wiping off the mud and gore, she laid them beneath his head to make him more comfortable. Passing a weary hand across her forehead, she asked almost fearfully, “Tony, was it because of me that Jared was so adamant about returning to active duty? Don’t lie, I want to know the truth.”
Tony’s clear blue eyes stared at her for a moment and then he glanced away. “No, he was just bored with his duties. Jared isn’t the sort to try to kill himself, no matter…” he stopped, flushing guiltily as he realized what he was about to say.
“You don’t have to finish, Tony. I’m sure at least a part of Jared’s decision was because of me.” The orderly returned and nodded to her. “Well, you’ll be patched up in no time, Tony. From what I can see, you’ll merely have a handsome scar to show the ladies back home!” She started to rise as an orderly came to help carry him into surgery, but Tony caught at her hand.
“Mariah, whether Jared’ll admit it or not, he still loves you. I know him well enough to see it, even if he doesn’t. Don’t worry, he’ll be all right!”
Mariah smiled, thanking him for his reassurance but inwardly doubting. She stood, stretching exhaustedly, to watch as they carried Tony to the doctor. Thank God he wasn’t hurt more severely. If she’d had to return home and tell Beth the worst, she couldn’t have borne it.
Florence, from across the room, motioned Mariah toward the office. Moving carefully around the bodies, she returned to the place where she had rested a half-hour before.
"It’s late, Mariah. Time you went home and got some rest before I have you to take care of too.” Florence’s bright, dark eyes rested affectionately on Mariah, slumped in a chair. “Wash up in my bedroom and then take yourself home, child. That’s an order!” She half-smiled, all she could manage at the late hour, to soften the stern command. In the small bed-sitting room she used on nights like these when she couldn’t get away, Florence gave Mariah towels and showed her the basin of water on the bureau.
“Thank you, Flo,” Mariah said as her friend turned to leave. “I wonder if I might bother you with something. My husband’s best friend was brought in. They’ve taken him to surgery and I wondered…could you keep an eye out for him? It’s so easy to get lost in the crowd in here” When Florence granted the request, Mariah described Tony and told Flo his name and rank. “I’ll be back early tomorrow. You should try and get some rest too!”
Florence laughed briefly and waved a weary farewell.
Outside, the fresh night air revived Mariah a little; and as she hurried down the steps, she bumped into a man coming up them. She barely managed to hold her balance until a pair of strong hands righted her and a voice she recognized immediately apologized.
"Jared?”
“Good God, Mariah!” Jared exclaimed, “what are you doing here this time of night?” He had to repeat his question before she seemed to understand it.
Skaking her head to clear the cobwebs that threatened to garble her speech, Mariah replied, “I’ve been here since the wounded began to arrive. Tony’s inside; I suppose you’ve come searching for him. He’ll be all right, Jared. It’s not a serious wound. The doctor is seeing him now."
Jared hesitated, still wanting to seek out Tony and assure himself it wasn’t worse than she admitted. Although he saw the tired lines etched beneath her eyes, he found it hard to believe she’d spent her time nursing the wounded. Catching a whiff of her heavy perfume, he commented wryly on it. “God, Mariah, you smell like a French whore!”
Weak and hungry, exhausted by the long night’s vigil, Mariah pulled her arm away from him and straightened her back. “I hardl
y think it’s any of your business what I do anymore. If I reek of perfume or wear none at all, it’s none of your concern! Now, please move aside, I’m in a hurry.” She made a movement to go around him and found herself caught in his grip once again. “Jared! I’m too tired to play silly games. Let me go!” She struggled as much as her faltering strength would allow and then fell silent, sagging limply against him.
As usual, they had gotten off on the wrong foot. She had an innate ability to incite him either to sarcasm or brutality. “I’m not playing games,” he insisted. Her eyes were turned down, staring at her feet but he could just see the edge of that stubborn pout she always wore for him. It tempted him to shake her.” My apologies, your Ladyship. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He released her and made a mocking bow. “It seems I always do in some way.”
Passing a hand wearily across her forehead, Mariah swept tangled wisps of hair away from her eyes. I’m too exhausted to even defend myself, she thought as a dizzy feeling swept over her. “I’m sure they’ll let you see Tony." She half-turned to point out the direction to Florence's office but weakness overcame her and she turned back to face him, sounding puzzled and vague, even to her own ears. “Just go down the ha—” She never finished the sentence, collapsing instead, and Jared caught her as she slumped unconscious in his arms.
Panicking for a single second, Jared decided to carry her into the hospital. A surprised orderly gave him the directions to the office and as he approached it, he found himself face to face with Florence. Realizing immediately what had happened, Florence showed Jared to her room and as he placed Mariah on the bed, she went to the medicine chest for her smelling salts.
“I knew this would happen! She was working too hard.” Waving the salts beneath Mariah’s nose, Florence frowned and noticing that the concerned young officer was still standing near, said, “I appreciate your help, Captain, but you’re free to leave. I have the situation under control.”
Savage In Silk Page 33
