Vermillion (The Hundred Days Series Book 1)

by Baird Wells

  “She'll bite her tongue off!” he sputtered.

  Kate's mountain of curls was already shaking in opposition, and Matthew could see her back teeth grind. “She may bite her tongue, as she clearly has this time, but she is far more likely to choke on a foreign body in her mouth than to align her teeth for any real harm.”

  She held out a hand, and Matthew lifted her up. Kate shook out her skirts, then waved down a stout young corporal passing them by. “Help Lord Chapel move his granddaughter to the carriage, please.” Laying a reassuring hand on the old man's shoulder, Kate observed the girl carefully a moment while the soldier lifted her. “Her breathing is slow, but regular. She will be tired and confused after such a fit; that is expected. Keep her in bed, and as calm as you can manage. Excepting her emotional wound, she will be fully recovered in a day or so.”

  Lord Chapel pressed grateful little kisses and tears into Kate's gloves until she patted him gently along, encouraging his exit.

  He could see how much being useful had sustained her when she turned back with haunted eyes, bruised gently underneath with exhaustion. “Is it true?” she whispered.

  Matthew glanced around them. They had relative privacy, but it wasn't enough. Gripping Kate's hand, he pulled her behind him, past the stairs and into the ground-floor study, shutting the door behind them.

  He pulled her in, taking a brief moment of comfort, then drew her out at arm's-length. “Where is my mother?”

  “I sent her home to pack. I thought it would be safest if she and Louisa departed for Antwerp.” She wrapped his hand, draining away some of his worry. “The French might treat her with courtesy, but she's fragile. I'm not convinced she would survive the indignities of an occupation.”

  He grabbed her sleeves, kissed her and crushed her against him, almost bursting with gratitude. “I don't know why I spent even a moment of worry. Trust you to have things capably handled.” It seemed impossible that he could love Kate any more, and yet his heart swelled at her concern for his mother.

  Her lips darted over his chin, and she pulled away. “Where should I go? To the regiment, with Doctor Hallick? Or do you think there will be more of a need at the front? I could wait –”

  “Kate.” He took her arms, but she pressed on faster.

  “...Until tomorrow, and then strike out for the rear. By then positions will be –”

  “Kate.”

  “What!” Her shoulders slumped.

  Matthew could see that she knew that she was caught. “I need you to go with mother, to Antwerp.” He had expected a fight when the moment came, but days of preparing had not presented a solution. Now, the reason slipped easily off his tongue, as though he had planned it from the start.

  Even so, Kate balked. Her mouth firmed, signaling she was entrenching. “I'm not leaving. We already discussed this, and my answer has not – will not change, Matthew.”

  He pulled her a half step closer, lowering his voice to a persuasive lull. “You do not have to leave Belgium, but I need you to take her there, Kate. Louisa is of use at dinner, or when my mother wants to gossip, but she's too timid and infirm to be of any help in a dire moment. I need you, Kate.”

  His heart sung painfully at the omission. He did need her, that was true. Next to Kate, his mother was his only treasure, and he could trust no one else with her well-being. But Kate was leaving Belgium for good. Once she reached Antwerp, the checkpoints and patrols would keep her there.

  Kate was quiet a long time, chewing her lip and weighing his bargain. Then she held a finger up. “Half way, to Ruisbroek. I'll see her safely across the canal. She'll be well out of danger, and I won't be gone long.”

  “You have a bargain.” He held out his hand and they shook on it, Matthew doused by shame and relief. What she offered was as good as his original proposal. Guards posted at the Zenne's crossing would never allow a civilian, especially a female, to travel south once fighting broke out. They would have hands full keeping her at the river, but in short order Kate would have little choice but to travel on to Antwerp. Matthew swallowed down cold guilt, knowing that whatever he did, it was to keep her safe.

  She nodded toward the doorway. “General Maitland says all the men are due at their regiments by three.”

  Matthew took a deep breath, bracing himself to break her heart. “I must leave at once. My men particularly will see the thick of it by morning. If Major Burrell and Captain Westcott have things settled, I may yet get an hour's sleep.”

  Kate scrubbed her hands over her face. “I don't want to talk about sleep, or the army.”

  He swept a few chestnut strands from her temple. “What would you rather I say?”

  “I don't know.” She was unraveling. He could see it in the stiff corners of her mouth, the quick pace of her chest, hear it in the ragged clip of her words. “What should fill the time we have left, if we're counting words? That I love you? You must feel it by now. That I am terrified of tomorrow and that the days cannot pass quickly enough, or that I would rather they didn't pass at all and we could fix ourselves in this moment before anything terrible can happen? Nothing feels enough to occupy our last few moments.”

  He tried to rally her, at the same time fighting an ache that was beginning to grip his throat. “Kate, this is not like you. Where's your hope? That damnable defiance I can never get around?”

  “You stole them from me.” She was crying in earnest now. “Ty, Porter, I love them, but it's not the same. Losing them, I could go on, somehow. I cannot...”

  Her head shook while he caressed her cheek. “Katherine Foster, the name of my heart. Our love is impervious to any death blow. If my body leaves this earth tomorrow, my soul will remain with you. I will be with you in the gray moments before dawn, when you stir and swear you feel me beside you. When a summer wind brings a scent to you, something that reminds you of our days together, it will be me, pressed close, watching over you faithfully until we can be together again. I cannot die, Kate, not as long as I have your love, and that lends me more courage than I have ever had.”

  He was grateful that she had sought shelter in his arms as he spoke and could not see him blinking desperately at burning eyes to regain his composure. When she pulled away, he dug out his handkerchief, swiping down her cheeks, memorizing the shape of her face as he went. She took the cloth from his hand, tucking it reverently into her sleeve.

  “Take off your gloves,” he said.

  She peeled them down with a curious look, tossing them onto a nearby table. Raking knuckles over her bare arms, he leaned in, kissing her neck and lacing their fingers together.

  She stayed put when a knock rattled the door, and even when McKinnon leaned into the room, not looking the least surprised at finding them together. “Escort's ready, sir.”

  Kate untangled from him. “I will be waiting, at the rear. At the first moment, the very first chance, write or come to me. Even just a glance, so my heart can rest.”

  Matthew tried to answer, torn between not knowing what to say and not wanting to lie, certain if he opened his lips a sob was all he could manage. Finally, he nodded, staying silent, knowing she would be too far away for him to promise either one.

  * * *

  Kate was jealous of Louisa, only half a face beside her. She snored away from between her bonnet and her lacy collar, lulled like a baby by the sickening roll and jostle of the carriage. Louisa was not callous; her heart ached as much as any of them. Age and infirmity made her too tired to suffer through it all.

  Across from her, occupying most of the cab's small space with her mere presence, Adelaide was a sculpture of composure. Stiff composure, Kate amended. Small creases that normally winged out from her brows and mouth carved themselves deeper now with exhaustion. The rims of her eyelids were angry, swollen with perpetually unshed tears. She continually dabbed at them with a cloth, muttering 'Consign all this road-dust!'

  It had taken considerable effort to gather herself after Matthew left, at least enough to make the walk back to
their house. There were plenty of people in the Grand Place, and even on the side streets, but it seemed they moved in amber, slowly and with their heads down, lips mute even while they clung to a loved one.

  I will hardly be parted from Matthew at all. Kate repeated the words to herself all along the route across town, trying as hard to believe them now as she had at the outset. Four hours to Ruisbroek and four hours back on muddy roads. The battle might not even be underway when she returned. Doctor Hallick could make use of her, or perhaps she could establish a second surgery to help lighten his burden. Logistics had occupied the rest of her walk, and she had contented herself with the thought that, in the thick of it, Matthew would be close should things go badly.

  Entering their house had doused what little optimism she managed to kindle. It was dark and silent, driving home Matthew's absence and how quickly the weather of their day had turned from fair to foul. The furniture was shrouded with storage linens that made them look like odd shaped caskets, the staff dismissed to evacuate or see to their families. Had she not thrown a key in her reticule that afternoon, she would have been locked out. Casting about, she noticed that Matthew must have forgotten his evening shoes and a top hat. They waited patiently to be claimed from the console table in the hall, their shadows running to the door and reaching out for their owner as she lit a candle.

  In her bed chamber, Hermine had taken great care in packing her things, carefully tucking Fann's letter atop the few articles of clothing in her small foot case. A pair of Matthew's gloves was nestled beside the pages. Slamming the lid, she tried breathing against the stabbing beat in her chest. She fled the room, but the tears came before she had cleared the staircase. She stumbled to Adelaide's and collapsed in the hall, out of breath and willing to pay an outrageous sum for a hot rag to clean her face.

  Adelaide, in similar shape, contributed what she could in the way of sensible ideas. Together they almost formed half a person and had managed to hire a converted post-coach, load it with a few things, and clear the city walls at just past three in the morning.

  There was enough pre-dawn glow in the carriage now to see Adelaide clearly. Her eyes darted to Louisa again and again, until she leaned over the foot well and gave her a sound jab in the hip with her index finger. “Louisa!” Adelaide hissed, squinting and scowling viciously. The only answer was a protracted snort, and Adelaide relaxed, looking satisfied.

  Kate looked on as she tugged a small tapestry traveling-bag from behind her knees. Adelaide snapped it open and produced a stoppered brown glass bottle, its label printed with flowers, or possibly tiny bows. Extracting the cork with some violence, she thrust it at Kate.

  Kate held up a hand and turned her face away instinctively. She did not need to be steadied. There was nothing wrong with her which could be cured by ammonia spirits. “I can't abide smelling salts. I doubt their effectiveness, and the odor...” She shuddered.

  One slender black brow arched in reply. “Do you take me for the fainting sort? It's whiskey, girl.” Adelaide tapped the label, whispering, “Louisa would fly into the boughs if she knew.”

  A little ashamed at her eagerness, she snatched the bottle from Adelaide's fingers and drew a long mouthful. Adelaide raked her fingers, demanding its return. “That is all I brought. Pray do not drown the parson until I've had a taste.”

  Scrubbing her mouth with the back of one hand, Kate welcomed the trail of fire burning down her throat, warming her from the inside against the hour's chill and her own misery. They enjoyed two more mouthfuls apiece before Adelaide jabbed the cork home, shaking the depleted bottle with a sad wiggle of her wrist and tossing it back into the bag.

  Kate studied her, waiting and making a wager with herself. Considering the woman in question, the result was quicker than she had imagined. It did not take as long as she had expected, given Adelaide's apparent practiced consumption. Her face softened, shoulders unknitting, and she arched back over the squabs with suspicious elasticity. No food in their bellies and exhaustion nipping their heels; Kate realized they were on the lower end of crocked and climbing the ladder at speed. She did not care. Even if she could not forget, she could at least not feel for a moment.

  They jostled along, and Kate tried to absorb the countryside, boredom warring with a churning stomach that revolted against the liquor. Out her window there was a glimmer between the low rises to the east. Sun brushed the hilltops, shining off of the ribbon of a canal flowing into the distance. “Look! Here it comes...” She poked Adelaide with the toe of her boot, pointing to the fire burning atop the ridge. Adelaide shifted, but her eyes stayed closed.

  In moments, the sun crested, spilling over the valley and bringing greens, blues, and golds to life. Clustered fields of lavender transmuted from dusty gray to bold purple. Brown grass glowed with a burnish, swaying as they rolled past. Light warmed her face through the carriage window, and somehow the day chased away a small measure of the fear which had followed her through the night.

  She closed her eyes, relieved, aware of nothing more until the carriage jerked to a halt a time later. They must have arrived at the crossing in Ruisbroek. At least, she assumed it was Ruisbroek. She had missed the outskirts, the main streets, and realized she would not have recognized it even if she had been looking out the window.

  The buildings around them were Dutch from foundation to peak, red and gray brick, roofs tall and step-sided like broad shoulders. She stretched to exit the carriage, eager for a glimpse of anything besides the dim interior.

  Not that she was left with a choice. Though not traveling on with Louisa and Adelaide, fresh horses were needed for the return trip. The driver communicated this is in broken English, by demanding that she 'shoo'. Louisa now weighted down a lacy ironwork bench, head hanging with the effort of staying awake, while Adelaide bickered with a sidewalk peddler over the price of his boiled eggs.

  The sharp eyes of allied guards dug into the comings and goings along the canal. It was closely guarded because it flowed uninterrupted to Brussels, allowing all sorts of mischief for the right people. Sabotage, surveillance or covert movement was a constant threat.

  “Miss Foster!” One of the soldiers uprooted himself from his post at the foot of a wide stone bridge, and raised a hand to her. Kate shaded her eyes, squinting, not recognizing him until he was a step away.

  “Lieutenant Allison!” She smiled in earnest, grateful for a friendly face. “We're both far from home.”

  He raked his fingers through wiry brown chops hugging his face, smiling so his eyes nearly shut. “Not me. I'm right at home. Done my fighting, now I'm here. Guest o' the town while I wait to fight a little more.”

  She had not seen the lieutenant since Spain, where he had been an indispensable source of trade goods and a consummate cheat at cards. Kate took it as a good omen, finding him here. “Any word from the south?”

  His thin face narrowed even further at his lifted brows. “I was hoping to ask the same of you.”

  Kate tempered her disappointment. She had not wanted to appear eager, but secretly hoped Allison might have heard something. “Fighting is expected today, at Quatre Bras. I can send word and let you know, once I return.”

  Allison's lean frame stiffened, thin lips pursing. “My apologies, Miss. We're under orders not to allow civilians back south of the river. You'll have to stay on here in Ruisbroek, or continue to Antwerp.”

  That was not possible. Of course she could go south. She had told Matthew her plan, and he had not questioned. Not a single warning that she would be trapped –

  Anger surged in her chest, scorching her cheeks. Go with my mother, to Antwerp. He had known all along that she could not come back.

  Adelaide swept up beside her like the incoming tide, wagging a finger in her direction. To Allison she snapped, “She is not a civilian. Miss Foster has served as the doctor for General Webb's regiment for months. She is still more qualified than whatever plague-masked know-nothing they've sent –”

  Kate squeezed he
r arm, choking off the tirade, and Allison bowed apologetically. “Pardon, your ladyship. It was not my intention to offend. Miss Foster saved my foot in Spain. I'm have no doubts as to her skill.” He stared at her for a long time, daring a few cautious glances over his shoulder. Finally, he leaned close, voice hushed. “If you're needed back with the regiment, miss, I can't help you. I could, however, look the other way, so long as you don't finger me if you're pinched.”

  Adelaide gave her a gentle push, hand at the small of Kate's back. “Now's the time, girl. Horses are changed and Louisa has somehow got herself back aboard.”

  Glancing from Adelaide to Allison, Kate stood mute, crippling indecision striking without warning. Why was there a question? She was going south, back to the regiment and her patients. To Matthew, damn him and his scheming. Licking her lips, she fought and failed to untangle the warring arguments in her heart.

  Adelaide raised her brows. “Miss Foster?”

  “What is the date?” It was all she could think to ask, feeling somehow it made a difference.

  “The sixteenth of June,” said Allison.

  Something in her lost, and something else triumphed, but she could not understand any of it, awash in confusion even as she spoke. Matthew had only wanted to protect her, and his mother. Where did her need end and his begin? It would be the selfless thing, to do as he had pleaded and leave Belgium.

  Kate was not certain she was ready, but she could give herself a little more time to decide. “I appreciate your offer, lieutenant. I will go on to Antwerp with Lady Adelaide.”

  He sketched a little bow. “It was gratifying to see you again. I wish you well, Miss Foster.”

  “You as well,” she tossed back, still wondering at her decision. Adelaide was clearly curious too, moving to occupy the spot in front of her that Allison had just vacated. “Ruisbroek, and straight back. Is that not what you said to me?” Adelaide planted hands on her hips. “Lady Louisa and I need no escort. We are in no danger now.”