‘Of course, she is a far better, more sensible woman than I. She even went inside the barn that they told us was full of dead bodies, refusing to believe their report of your death. Though I wasn’t brave enough to go in with her. It made me feel so ill that I went over the wall into the orchard to be sick in private. That was the moment when it occurred to me that you might be trying to protect me from distress. If Gideon had been as mangled as some of the poor wretches I saw lying all over the fields, you wouldn’t have wanted me to see him like that. For my last memory of him to be so gruesome. It hit me, when I couldn’t even bear the thought of seeing you dead, or wounded. And we’ve never been exactly close, have we?’
He looked at her again. ‘So you do accept that I act in your best interest.’
She sighed. ‘I accept that you try to, yes. But as I said, I haven’t come here to argue with you. Justin, Tom told me that you were with Gideon, at the end. Will you...will you tell me...?’
If she’d thought he looked ill before, that question made him look positively haggard.
‘I know,’ she added, ‘you cannot tell me all, but I do want to hear as much of the truth as you think I can bear.’
‘I can tell you what he wanted you to know,’ he replied with a nod. ‘His last thoughts were of you. Tell Sarah I died well, Justin, were his last words.’
‘Oh!’ She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. But discovering that her twin had sent her a message, with his dying breath, was more than her resolve could stand. She reached for the handkerchief she’d brought to use as a flag of truce and held it to her face.
‘I promised him,’ said Justin more gently, ‘that you would know you could be very proud of him.’
‘Could I?’ She looked up, her stomach lurching with hope and dread and grief. ‘I have been so afraid that he threw himself away doing something foolhardy. I’d been so worried about him, in the days before the Duchess of Richmond’s ball. I always know when he is planning some mischief and I had this awful presentiment that he was about to do something even worse than usual.’
Justin looked sceptical, but he only said, ‘He died bravely. He died well.’
‘Can—?’ She hiccupped. ‘Can you tell me...how?’
He frowned. For a moment she thought he was going to fob her off with the usual excuse of her not needing to trouble her empty little head with the ugly realities that should more properly be taken care of by men.
But then he surprised her by saying, ‘Major Sheffield’s unit got cut off by a party of French chasseurs. When I came across them, they were penned into a town square.’ He paused to draw in a couple of breaths. But she didn’t fill the silence with questions. She could see he was gathering his strength to tell her the tale in his own way.
‘Bennington Ffog’s troop,’ he continued, ‘were holding off the French, while Lieutenant Rawlins was attempting to get the Rogues to turn the guns round so they could make their escape. Gideon saw him struggling to control the men. They’d lost heart when Major Sheffield was killed. Gideon rallied the Rogues, got the guns turned and then stood and fought a rearguard action. I...’ He paused again. There was something in his face that told Sarah he was right back in that town square all over again. With what looked like an effort, he continued.
‘For a while, Gideon and I fought side by side, blocking the street so the French couldn’t pursue the guns and their crews. We fought until reinforcements came. But by then it was too late for your twin. He was badly hurt.’
‘Cavalry sabres,’ she said in the ghost of a whisper. ‘I’ve seen what they can do.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry. Though if it helps, he didn’t take long in dying. I tried to stop the bleeding, but...’ He stopped when she gave a choked cry and buried her face in the handkerchief again.
‘Sorry, that was tactless of me. I just wanted you to know he didn’t suffer for long.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I have been tortured by the thought of him lying out there, slowly dying, like so many of them did. Alone and in pain.’
‘He died in my arms. He died bravely. Saving my men, and the guns, to fight the next day. The day we defeated Bonaparte once and for all. He won’t come back to tear Europe to pieces again, Sarah. And the way Gideon died made a contribution to that outcome.’
‘Thank you,’ she said once she’d regained command of her voice. ‘For not spinning me some sugary confection to make my grief easier to swallow. For—’ She sat up straight, and gave him a searching look. ‘You say he actually had command of your men? If only for a short time?’
He nodded.
‘Oh, Justin, if only you knew what that would have meant to him.’
‘I think I did. We had a chance to speak a little, at the very end. He told me that he wanted me to return to Chalfont and manage the estates. That Mother is struggling, but won’t say anything. He even stole the sword, thinking that without it, I wouldn’t go into battle—’
‘Oh! So that was it. I wondered... He’d been acting so very...so very...well, the way he always did when he was planning some mischief.’ Thoughts were teeming, nineteen to the dozen, through her brain. ‘Yes, of course,’ she breathed. ‘He saw the chance to prove he could be as good an officer as you. Of course, he had to steal the Latymor Luck so that he could wear it into battle.’ She shook her head. ‘And you blamed Mary for taking it. I heard you. Oh, Justin, how could you?’
‘Do you think I don’t know what a terrible mistake I made?’
‘You made another very grave error, too. About the night of the Duchess of Richmond’s Ball. It was entirely my doing that Mary was there. She didn’t want to go, you know. I positively compelled her to go with me. I was absolutely determined to see Gideon. And Gussie was too ill to go. So I went straight round to Mary, spinning her such a tale that she felt she had no choice but to go with me. And then you had the gall to accuse her of—what was it?—ingratiating herself with your sister?’
Justin’s lips firmed as though he was biting back a pithy retort. But before he could utter it, Sarah plunged on.
‘It was the very opposite. I tried and tried to make friends with her, but she simply wasn’t interested. You were the only Latymor she cared about. Even after you were so beastly to her that night she still came to the battlefield to find you. And wouldn’t let anyone else nurse you back to health. What I should like to know,’ she said with reproof, ‘is what, exactly, you have done now, to drive her away? Surely you know that you’ll never find anyone who loves you as much as she does?’
‘I thought you came here under a flag of truce. I thought we were not going to argue about our private affairs.’
‘It is not a private affair, what you have with Mary. You should marry her.’
‘As you plan to marry Bartlett?’ His lip curled scornfully. ‘The man is a rake. A scoundrel. You know I didn’t want you to so much as speak to him, let alone marry him!’
‘I didn’t say I was going to marry him. But I’m most certainly not marrying anyone else. Not after what—’ she lifted her chin, and though her cheeks felt hot, she made sure to look her brother straight in the eye ‘—not after what we have been to each other.’
‘You don’t know what you are saying,’ he spluttered. ‘You cannot ruin your whole life because of one stupid, mad interlude.’
She glared at him. ‘Tom has not ruined my life. I will always be grateful to him for what he’s shown me this week.’
When Justin looked as though he was about to explode, she laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. ‘And I don’t mean that. Please, try to understand. I told you that I only ever lived through Gideon, before. And, well, it is as if, since he has died, I have started living my own life, at last. This week, for the first time, I have started to ask what I want from life. I’ve learned more about myself, of what I’m capable of, of what I truly think, than I
have in the whole of the preceding twenty-two years, when I was content to just sit at home, like Rapunzel in her tower, watching life through her window.’
‘Don’t try making Bartlett out to be some prince, climbing up to your turret and setting you free. This is no fairy tale, Sarah.’
‘No. It is my life. And I know full well that Tom is just a man. You aren’t really listening, are you? You are fixated on Tom.’
‘Fixated on Bartlett?’ He gave her an indignant look. ‘Nothing of the kind.’
‘Good. Then you do accept that it was Gideon dying that shocked me out of my stupor.’
‘I know it was certainly a shock to you, yes,’ he conceded. ‘But—’
‘But nursing Tom,’ she interrupted, ‘living with him, a life so very different from anything I’ve ever experienced before, has opened my eyes. I know what I want now.’
‘I dare say he can make any woman want that.’
‘I dare say he can,’ she replied loftily. ‘But that isn’t what I meant. When he asked me to marry him—’
‘Do you honestly expect me to give him my permission? And don’t forget I have control of your inheritance. Let’s see how much he wants to marry you without it.’
‘You would cut me off without a penny if I married Tom without your permission? Ooh, you...you...’ If he wasn’t so ill she would have shaken him. ‘You think I’m hen-witted enough to accept a proposal from a rake?’ She got to her feet. ‘And so unattractive that he wouldn’t want me without my fortune?’
‘Wait. You haven’t accepted his proposal?’
‘You can keep my money, Justin,’ she cried, ignoring the relief washing the tension from his face when she’d said she’d turned Tom’s proposal down. ‘I don’t need or want it. I can earn my keep.’ She could. Surely she could. Somehow. After all, Mary did. And it would mean she wouldn’t be dependent on any man, any more, not even to manage her fortune. She really would be able to take control of her life.
‘I could become a teacher.’
‘Have some sense, Sarah,’ he said, with that all-too-familiar tone of exasperation. ‘No school would hire a woman who’s been ruined and put her in charge of impressionable girls.’
She flinched. She wasn’t used to being spoken to like that any longer. Tom never treated her as though she was an idiot. If she’d told him she would be a teacher, he would probably...
‘Now sit down,’ said Justin sternly. ‘And calm down. We don’t need to fall out, not if you aren’t going to marry Major Bartlett.’
‘I don’t see why you are so against him,’ she said huffily, though she did sit down again. Justin had gone alarmingly pale when she’d started talking about marrying Tom and she really didn’t want him to suffer another relapse on her account.
‘He isn’t a bit like Papa, you know. He would never treat me the way Papa treated Mama. Because Papa never pretended to love Mama, not even at the start, did he? It was one of those dynastic unions, arranged by our grandparents, wasn’t it? And Tom does love me.’
‘Not the way a gentleman should love his wife. Or he wouldn’t have ruined you. The man’s a rake and a scoundrel.’
‘I cannot see that Tom’s behaviour has been any worse than yours,’ she retorted. ‘Or Gideon’s. There is a vast difference between a single man enjoying his freedoms, and a married one breaking his vows, is there not?’
‘You really think he’d be able to stick to his vows? A man like that?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘But one thing I have learned is that not all men are like our father. Some men do truly fall in love with their wives. And cherish them. You only have to look at the way Blanchards is with Gussie. Or consider how happy Harriet is with Graveney. And she always swore she wouldn’t marry, either.’
‘Either?’
‘That’s right, Justin. I swore I wouldn’t end up like Mama, chained to a man who treated me with less consideration than his horse or his hounds. In fact—’ she gave him a straight look ‘—I’ve come to the conclusion it would be much better to be a man’s mistress than his wife. And only stay with him as long as he treated me well.’
‘No, it wouldn’t! Look...’ He struggled with himself, as though determined to keep his temper in check. ‘I suppose I can understand your aversion to marriage. I have my own reservations, after all. Because of Father. I am his son and I would never be sure...’ He grimaced.
‘You are not a bit like Papa, Justin. Not in that way.’ She stretched out her hand and laid it, briefly, against his gaunt cheek. ‘You wouldn’t treat Mary badly. You are not that kind of man. So marrying her wouldn’t be a disaster. Thank you, Justin.’
‘What for?’ He eyed her with misgiving.
‘For helping me to reach a decision.’
‘I don’t like the look in your eye. Dear lord, you’ve never looked more like your twin when he was plotting some mischief.’
She smiled. ‘Thank you.’
‘It wasn’t meant to be a compliment.’
‘I know. But you see, when I came here, I didn’t know what to do about Tom. And now I do.’
‘You agree to leave him? And return to Antwerp?’
‘No. I’m not ready to leave him. I love him, you see.’ To soften the blow, she bent to kiss his cheek.
‘He cannot marry you without my permission,’ growled Justin. ‘As his commanding officer.’
‘He may not want to. As you’ve taken such pains to point out, marriage isn’t for every man.’ She stuffed her handkerchief back into her reticule. ‘So I shall ask if I can stay with him, on terms he can accept.’
‘As his mistress, do you mean? Sarah, you cannot possibly—’
‘Well, I’m probably, sort of, his mistress already,’ she mused. ‘I was certainly ruined the moment his men laid him in my bed, in the eyes of society. And I’ve been with him for a whole week since then.’
He drew a rasping breath with which to voice a protest.
‘I don’t think we should discuss this any more,’ she cut in. ‘I don’t wish to make you unwell. And your face is going a most unhealthy shade of puce.’
‘Is that surprising? At least Major Bartlett had the decency to propose. Whereas you—’
‘I was rash enough to turn him down. I was afraid of marriage then. And worried he wasn’t offering because he loved me, but out of guilt.’
‘That makes no difference. At least he didn’t attempt to get away with sullying your reputation without offering to pay the penalty.’
‘Interesting to hear you think of marriage as the price you have to pay for getting a woman into bed. Is that why Mary has left you?’
‘We are not talking of me, but of you and that b—Bartlett!’
‘We aren’t talking about anything, any longer,’ she said serenely, getting to her feet. ‘Or I shall be late for church.’
* * *
She had been worried about going to church, but she now felt as though she could use a period of reflection before returning to Tom. Her conversation with Justin had made her look at certain aspects of her past in a new light and she wanted to mull over them before dealing with her future.
It hadn’t been until Justin had challenged her behaviour, and her motive for coming to Brussels, that she’d seen that while Gideon had lived, she really had behaved like a sort of modern-day Rapunzel, locked up in a tower. A tower that was entirely of her own making. She’d seized on the story their nurse had spun, about how she and Gideon were but one soul, inhabiting two bodies, and used it as an excuse for not struggling to break free of the strictures her parents had placed on her, because she was merely a girl. It hadn’t seemed worth the bother of enduring a scene, such as the ones Harriet had caused when she came back from school, to get her own way, when she could tell herself that in some sort of mystical way, she wa
s sharing Gideon’s adventures so long as he told her about them.
But now he was gone. He couldn’t do all the living for both of them. It was—it was her turn.
If this was Gideon, in love for the first time in his life, would he let fear of potential disaster stop him? No. Why, he hadn’t even hesitated to steal the sword, go into battle and lead Justin’s men, to prove what he was worth.
He’d always believed life was for living.
And she was in love. Deeply in love with Tom. And just because they both had reservations about marriage, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be together, in a way that suited them both, did it?
She hesitated on the church steps, noting that only a few people had started arriving. There was just time to go to the vault and visit her brother before the service commenced.
‘Gideon,’ she whispered, depressed by the gloomy silence that pervaded the vault. ‘Gideon.’ She reached out and lay one black-gloved hand on his coffin.
She closed her eyes and pictured him stealing the Latymor Luck. Strapping it on to his sword-belt. Taking control of Justin’s men, even if it was only for half an hour. Fighting side by side with the big brother he’d alternately adored, and emulated, and chafed against, all his life. Then finally confronting Justin with his choices. Eldest sons should stay at home, run the estate and set up their nursery, he’d said, oh, often and often! It’s for the younger sons to go out and become heroes. He has to have it all, damn him! Well, I’ll show him, Sarah. You see if I don’t.
Well, he’d shown Justin, right enough. And died in the process.
‘Oh, Gideon,’ she sobbed. ‘Why did you have to prove yourself to him? Why couldn’t just being you be enough?’
She was glad, of course, that he hadn’t died alone, or in some terribly painful, lingering way, or as the result of some stupid blunder.
A Mistress for Major Bartlett Page 22
