by Dilly Court
‘Get off me, you brute,’ Cassy hissed furiously. ‘If you don’t let me go this instant I’ll scream.’
Chapter Nineteen
‘If you don’t let her go, Peters, you’ll find yourself on a charge and I’ll be more than happy to report you. I may no longer be a serving officer but I know your commander well.’
Peters released Cassy with a startled grunt. ‘Captain Cade, sir. It wasn’t what you think. She’s nothing but a cheap whore.’ His eyes widened with surprise as Cade grabbed him round the throat and thrust him back against the pillar.
‘She’s little more than a child,’ Cade said through clenched teeth.
‘She led me on, sir. I swear it.’
‘Get out of my sight before I do something I’ll regret.’ Cade let him go, wiping his hands together in disgust. His expression softened as he turned his attention to Cassy. ‘Are you all right, Miss Davenport?’
Controlling her erratic breathing with difficulty, she managed to nod her head. ‘I didn’t lead him on, Captain. I did nothing to deserve such treatment.’
‘She’s lying,’ Peters muttered, straightening his jacket. ‘I know her sort.’
Cade rounded on him angrily. ‘You don’t deserve to wear that uniform, and if you continue in this vein I’ll do my best to see that you are stripped of your rank and end up a foot soldier. You’ll apologise to Miss Davenport and then you will leave or I’ll have you thrown out.’
Peters stared down at his highly polished shoes. ‘I apologise.’
‘Sound as though you mean it.’ Cade took a step closer to him and Peters shot a resentful glance at Cassy.
‘I’m sorry. I was in the wrong and I apologise.’
Cade eyed him coldly. ‘Now go. Explain yourself to her brother if you can.’
‘He’s not her brother,’ Peters said venomously. ‘She’s his stepsister, and Davenport’s father committed suicide having run into debt and ruined himself and his family. At least my family are all honourable.’
‘There’s always one black sheep,’ Cade said, glaring at Peters as he strutted off like a disgruntled rooster. Taking a spotless white handkerchief from his pocket, he gave it to Cassy. ‘Dry your eyes, and then I’ll escort you back to your party, Miss Davenport. My carriage is at your disposal if you wish to go home.’
‘I’m all right now, sir,’ Cassy said, blowing her nose in the soft white Egyptian cotton. ‘I don’t want to make a fuss.’ She dabbed her eyes and was about to return the hanky to its owner, but he smiled and shook his head.
‘Keep it, my dear. You’ve had an unpleasant experience and you have every right to make a fuss, as you put it. Most young ladies would have had hysterics by now or fallen to the floor in a dead faint.’
His crooked smile brought a swift reaction from Cassy and she felt suddenly at ease. ‘I’m made of sterner stuff, Captain. But I want you to know that what Peters said was not the whole truth. I never really knew him but Ollie’s father wasn’t a bad man; he was just unlucky and unwise. My mother wouldn’t have married Sir Geoffrey if he’d been the wrong sort.’
Cade paused, staring at her thoughtfully. ‘Sir Geoffrey Davenport was your stepfather?’
‘Yes, sir. Well, no, not exactly.’ Cassy found herself floundering. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘And it’s getting late and you’ve had a trying time to say the least. I don’t want to pry, Cassy. We’d best get you back to your friends before they start looking for you.’
The Great Hall was filled with music and reverberating with the sound of feet tapping out the rhythm of the dance on the polished floorboards. Cassy saw Lottie waltz past in Oliver’s arms, and both of them were flushed with exertion and smiling as if they were enjoying themselves. They made a handsome couple, Cassy thought, as Cade escorted her to the table where Bailey was sitting alone, drumming his fingers on the white cloth. He leapt to his feet as they approached. ‘Cassy, I was getting worried. Where’ve you been, and where is Peters?’
‘Cassy will tell you in her own good time,’ Cade said calmly. ‘Let’s just say that Captain Peters may be an officer but he’s no gentleman. I’ll send for my carriage and I suggest that you take her home when she feels able to make the journey to . . .’ He paused, allowing the question to hang in the air.
‘We live in Pedlar’s Orchard,’ Cassy said wearily as a wave of exhaustion threatened to swamp her. ‘It’s in Stepney, sir. Quite a way from here.’
Cade nodded. ‘I know the area well. Take care of her, Corporal Moon.’ He walked off, only to be accosted by an earnest-looking gentleman who appeared to have rather a lot to say for himself.
‘What happened, Cass?’ Bailey demanded anxiously. ‘What did Peters do? I’ll kill him if he’s harmed you in any way.’
‘No, Bailey. He didn’t hurt me. He embarrassed and humiliated me but I’m fine, thanks to Captain Cade.’ She uncurled her fingers and realised that she had been clasping his handkerchief as if it were a good luck talisman. ‘It’s his,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll wash it and make certain that he gets it back.’
‘You’re feverish,’ Bailey said, rising to his feet. ‘I’ll go and find Oliver and we’ll take you home. Belle will know what to do for the best.’
‘He was kind to me, Ma,’ Cassy said sleepily as her mother tucked her up in bed. ‘I don’t know what would have happened if Captain Cade hadn’t come along then.’
‘Oliver and Bailey should have been keeping an eye on you,’ Belinda said, pulling the coverlet up to Cassy’s chin. ‘And that Captain Peters should be shot for making advances to a girl of your age.’
‘He said I led him on, but I didn’t.’ Cassy’s eyelids felt heavy as the dose of laudanum did its work. ‘I only danced with him, Ma.’
‘He’s a brute, and I owe Captain Cade a huge thank you,’ Belinda said gently. ‘Now go to sleep, darling. Forget all about Peters and tomorrow everything will look brighter.’
‘Must wash his hanky and return it to him,’ Cassy murmured, closing her eyes.
‘That can wait until Monday, my dear. I’m sure that Captain Cade has more than one handkerchief to his name.’
On Monday morning the back yard was powdered with snow, and the iron latch on the outhouse door was slippery with frost. Inside the small brick building the warm air was filled with steam and the smell of lye soap. Cassy took the lid off the copper and dropped the handkerchief into the bubbling water to join the rolling mass of white linens. Mrs Wilkins would be out a little later to put the sheets and pillowcases through the mangle before the final rinse, and it was Freddie’s job to turn the handle, but Cassy could not wait that long and anyway the hanky was not badly soiled. She fished it out with wooden tongs and rinsed it in the stone sink, adding the blue bag to the water as she had seen Mrs Wilkins do a dozen times or more. Satisfied with her efforts, she returned to the kitchen where Freddie was finishing a bowl of porridge. He waved his spoon at her. ‘What are you doing, Cassy?’
She ruffled his curly hair. ‘None of your business, young man. Eat up or you’ll be late for school.’
‘He’s got to help with the mangling first,’ Mrs Wilkins said, ladling porridge into a bowl. ‘You seem a bit better today, miss. You looked quite peaky yesterday.’
Cassy spread the handkerchief over the brass rail on the range. ‘I’m well, thank you. I was just a bit tired yesterday.’
‘I heard all about it,’ Mrs Wilkins said, pursing her lips. ‘Nice carryings on I must say. It was lucky for you that nice gentleman come to your rescue.’
‘This is his hanky. I’ve washed it and I need to iron it before I return it to him.’
Mrs Wilkins thrust a bowl of porridge into Cassy’s hands. ‘Eat your breakfast and I’ll put the flat iron on the range. That fine material will dry quickly.’ She fingered the hanky with a nod of approval. ‘Best Egyptian cotton if I’m not mistaken. Your Captain Cade must be a gentleman of quality.’
‘And he’s old enough to be my father,’ Cassy said, laughing. ‘He
’s no knight in shining armour, but I’m sure he’s very heroic and he was very kind to me.’
Mrs Wilkins searched in the cupboard and produced a flat iron which she placed on the range. ‘My Albert was a hero, poor devil. He got hisself killed during a skirmish in the Khyber Pass in the first war against them Afghans. Poor Bert, he weren’t much of a husband, but he was a good soldier. Eat up, Freddie. You’ve got work to do afore you goes to school.’
‘I’m going to be a soldier like Bailey,’ Freddie announced proudly. ‘He’s a hero, he told me so.’
‘Aye, and he’ll be gone as soon as Christmas is over,’ Mrs Wilkins said grimly. ‘They’re all the same these military men, here one minute and gone the next. How we’ll manage without their money, I don’t know.’
‘I don’t want him to go away.’ Freddie’s bottom lip trembled.
Cassy could see that he was close to tears. ‘He’ll be home again before you know it, Freddie,’ she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she was feeling. ‘The war can’t go on forever.’
An hour later, Cassy was standing outside the Home for Wounded Soldiers in Stepney Green. It was only a few minutes’ walk away from Pedlar’s Orchard but the deepening snow had slowed her progress and the pavements were treacherous underfoot. She gazed up at the Georgian façade of the four-storey building, and felt suddenly and unaccountably nervous. She braced her shoulders; after all, she was only going to return a cotton handkerchief and thank a gentleman for an act of kindness. She raised the iron ring of the doorknocker and let it fall on the metal plate. The resounding clang seemed to reverberate throughout the building and it was answered almost immediately by the clatter of footsteps. The door was opened by a middle-aged woman wearing a white cap and a grey gown with a starched white collar and cuffs. ‘Can I help you, miss?’
Cassy cleared her throat nervously. ‘I’d like to see Captain Cade.’
‘If you’ve come about the position of scullery maid, it’s been filled.’
‘No, I haven’t. I mean I didn’t know there was a vacancy. It’s a personal matter.’
The woman sniffed and shrugged her shoulders. ‘You’d best come in then. Wait here.’ She scuttled off, disappearing down a long passageway, leaving Cassy standing in the vestibule. She waited for a good five minutes, shifting nervously from foot to foot. The sound of male voices came from deep within the building with the occasional burst of laughter, which she found surprising. She had imagined the home to be a dark and dismal place filled with moans and groans and the smell of disinfectant. The reality seemed to be quite different and the atmosphere was one of a comfortable and reasonably well-to-do home. The wallpaper in the entrance hall was surprisingly exotic with a pattern of golden lilies and warm orange tones. The floorboards were polished until they shone like horse chestnuts, and the aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from the basement kitchen. The hands on the long-case clock moved almost imperceptibly but Cassy was beginning to think that she had been forgotten when she heard the tapping sound of Cade’s ebony cane on the bare boards. She went to meet him, feeling suddenly shy as she held out the freshly laundered handkerchief. ‘I came to return this, Captain.’
He took it from her, acknowledging its return with a slight inclination of his head. ‘I wouldn’t have expected you to venture out in the snow simply to return a handkerchief, Miss Davenport.’
‘I wanted to thank you for saving me from an embarrassing situation. I still don’t know quite how it happened.’
Cade’s serious expression melted into a lopsided smile. ‘If I were being kind I’d put it down to Captain Peters’ youthful folly and too much brandy, but if I was your father I wouldn’t be so charitable and I would probably want to horsewhip the bounder.’
The humorous glint in his eyes belied his stern tone and Cassy responded with a chuckle. ‘Then it’s as well that we are not related, sir. Anyway, I am very grateful and I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time.’ She turned and was about to leave but he called her back.
‘Miss Davenport, I seem to remember that you voiced an interest in my work here. I believe I promised to show you round.’
Cassy hesitated. ‘I would like that, but only if you have the time.’
‘I have plenty of time. Come with me and meet some of the brave men who have had to combat crippling disabilities as well as pain and suffering.’
If she had thought about it at all, Cassy had vaguely imagined that Cade’s wounded soldiers would be lying in bed, heavily bandaged and reliant on nurses for all their needs. But the reality was far different as he showed her round the premises. There was a large communal dining room, where long tables were laid in readiness for the midday meal. A vase filled with jewel-coloured chrysanthemums added its spicy aroma to the fragrant scent of pine from the logs burning in the grate. A cursory glance at the table settings revealed attention to detail that even the most particular hostess would appreciate. The glassware and cutlery had been polished until they shone and starched white table napkins were folded neatly at each place.
‘We try to make it as much like home as possible,’ Cade said as he led her across the hallway into the drawing room. ‘This is where the men come when they want to relax.’
Cassy gazed round the large room and could not help but be impressed. Every effort seemed to have been made to make the establishment welcoming and homely. Comfortable-looking armchairs were dotted around in groups and two large sofas faced each other on either side of the fireplace. The Turkey red carpet and emerald-green curtains gave the room a masculine look, and the walls were hung with pictures. She studied the paintings with interest, and was even more impressed when Cade explained that they had been painted by men who had discovered hidden artistic talents. ‘Most of them are in a bad way when they first arrive. It takes many months for the worst cases to recover their former spirit. We find that music often helps to heal the mental wounds they bear with such stoicism,’ he said, following Cassy’s gaze as she spotted a pianoforte standing in the far corner of the room. ‘Do you play the piano, Miss Davenport?’
She shook her head. ‘No, at least not very well. We had lessons at school but I’m afraid I have no talent for music.’
He acknowledged this admission with a smile and a slight shrug of his shoulders. ‘But you like to read?’
She glanced at the bookshelves which occupied a whole wall and the piles of magazines and periodicals on a table beneath one of the tall windows. ‘Yes, but we had to leave the books and everything else in Duke Street. We can’t afford luxuries like that now.’ Cassy stopped, biting her lip. She could not think why she had allowed such an admission to slip. She felt the colour rise to her cheeks and she picked up a chess piece from a set laid out on a small table. ‘I’m sure the men are extremely comfortable here,’ she murmured, changing the subject.
‘Some of the men will never leave here as they have nowhere else to go and no one to care for them. Others will leave as soon as they are fit enough to earn their own living. Come with me and you can see the workrooms.’
‘I thought it would be like a hospital,’ Cassy said as they went from room to room on the ground floor. She listened intently as Cade explained that the men were being helped to rebuild their lives by mastering new skills or simply relearning old ones which had been made almost impossible by their injuries.
From a window overlooking the garden at the back of the house, he pointed to the washhouse where smoke belched from the chimney and trickles of steam escaped through gaps in the door. ‘We do everything we can to help the men return to as normal a way of living as possible. Those who are able work in the laundry, and we grow our own vegetables and fruit. Some of them choose to work in the kitchen, and we encourage those who show promise to find work in hotel kitchens, or take up positions in large houses. Part of the charity is set up to find households willing to take on men who would in general be overlooked by other employers.’
Cassy felt her throat constrict as she watched a young
man attempting to paint a picture using his left hand, when he was obviously right-handed but had lost that arm below the elbow. He was frowning and holding the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated. He looked up at her and grinned. ‘Don’t think it’ll ever get in the Royal Academy, miss.’
She moved closer, studying the work with a critical eye, realising instinctively that fulsome praise would not be welcome. ‘I’d think I was clever if I could do half as well.’
He angled his head. ‘Ta, miss. I take that as very encouraging. If I had both me legs I’d stand up and give you a kiss, but as you see I’m waiting for me peg to be made.’
Cassy looked down and realised with a sickening feeling in her stomach that his right leg had been amputated below the knee. She felt the colour drain from her face but she forced her lips into a smile. ‘I’ll keep you to that when we meet again.’
‘I should have me peg leg in time for Christmas, miss. I’ll make certain we’ve got a big bunch of mistletoe.’
‘I think Miss Davenport might have other commitments on Christmas Day, Jack,’ Cade said, patting him on the back.
Cassy met the young soldier’s gaze and saw pain, cynicism and a hint of despair in their blue depths. Suddenly she was seeing Bailey sitting there, terribly disabled and needing to feel that he was still a man. ‘I’ll be here,’ she said softly. ‘And make sure you get the biggest bunch of mistletoe you can find.’
‘That was kind, but you shouldn’t make promises that you don’t intend to keep,’ Cade said as they left the room and made their way towards the entrance hall.
