Beneath the Major's Scars

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Major Coale’s books had to be brought here by pack-pony,’ put in Nicky. ‘Dozens of boxes of them. She likes books,’ he explained to the major, whose right eyebrow had risen in enquiry.

  ‘We have an extensive library at home,’ added Zelah.

  ‘And where is that?’

  ‘Cornwall.’

  ‘I guessed that much from your name. Where in Cornwall?’

  A smile tugged at her mouth, but she responded seriously.

  ‘My father is rector at Cardinham, near Bodmin.’

  Zelah looked up as a number of men arrived carrying a willow hurdle.

  She scrambled to her feet and stepped back. The major handed his axe to one of the men before directing the delicate operation of lifting Nicky on to the hurdle. When they were ready to move off she fell into step beside the major, aware of his ungainly, limping stride as they followed the hurdle and its precious burden through the woods.

  ‘I can see you have some experience of command, Major.’

  ‘I was several years in the army.’

  Zelah glanced at him. He had been careful to keep to the left of the path so only the right side of his face was visible to her. Whether he was protecting her sensibilities or his own she did not know.

  ‘And now you plan to settle at Rooks Tower?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It is a little isolated,’ she remarked. ‘Even more so than West Barton.’

  ‘That is why I bought it. I have no wish for company.’

  Zelah lapsed into silence. His curt tone made the meaning of his words quite clear. He might as well have said I have no wish for conversation. Very well, she had no desire to intrude upon his privacy. She would not speak again unless it was absolutely necessary.

  * * *

  Finally they emerged from the trees and Zelah had her first glimpse of Rooks Tower. There was a great sweep of lawn at the front of the house, enclosed by a weed-strewn drive. At the far side of the lawn stood a small orangery, but years of neglect had dulled the white lime-wash and many of its windows were broken. Zelah turned away from this forlorn object to study the main house. At its centre was an ancient stone building with an imposing arched entrance, but it had obviously been extended over the centuries and two brick-and-stone wings had been added. Everything was arranged over two floors save for a square stone tower on the south-eastern corner that soared above the main buildings.

  ‘Monstrosity, isn’t it?’ drawled the major. ‘The house was remodelled in Tudor times, when the owner added the tower that gives the house its name, so that his guests could watch the hunt. It has a viewing platform on the roof, but we never use it now.’

  She looked again at the house. There had been many alterations over the years, but it retained its leaded lights and stone mullions. Rooks Tower fell short of the current fashion for order and symmetry, but its very awkwardness held a certain charm.

  ‘The views from the tower must be magnificent.’ She cast an anxious look at him. ‘You will not change it?’

  He gave a savage laugh.

  ‘Of course not. It is as deformed as I!’

  She heard the bitterness in his tone, but could not think of a suitable response. The path had widened and she moved forwards to walk beside Nicky, reaching out to take his hand. It was hot and clammy. Zelah hid her dismay beneath a reassuring smile.

  ‘Nearly there, love. We shall soon make you more comfortable.’

  The major strode on ahead, his lameness barely noticeable as he led the way into the great hall where an iron-haired woman in a black-stuff gown was waiting for them. She bobbed a curtsy.

  ‘I have prepared the yellow room for the young master, sir, and popped a warm brick between the sheets.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Graddon.’ He did not break his stride as he answered her, crossing the hall and taking the stairs two at a time, only pausing to turn on the half-landing. ‘This way, but be careful not to tilt the litter!’

  * * *

  Dominic waited only to see the boy laid on the bed that had been prepared for him before striding off to his own apartments to change out of his working clothes. It was a damnable nuisance, having strangers in the house, but the boy was hurt, what else could he do? He did not object to having Nicky in the house. He was fond of the boy and would do all he could to help him, but it would mean having doctors and servants running to and fro. He could leave everything to Graddon and his wife, of course, and the aunt would look after the boy until Buckland could send someone.

  The thought of Miss Zelah Pentewan made him pause. A reluctant smile touched his lips and dragged at the scarred tissue of his cheek. She was not conventionally pretty, too small and thin, with mousy brown hair and brown eyes. She reminded him of a sparrow, nothing like the voluptuous beauties he had known. When he thought of her standing up to him, prepared to fight him to protect her nephew...by God she had spirit, for she barely came up to his shoulder!

  He washed and dried his face, his fingers aware of the rough, pitted skin on his left cheek through the soft linen cloth. He remembered how she had glared at him, neither flinching nor averting her eyes once she had seen his scarred face. He gave her credit for that, but he would not subject her to the gruesome sight again. There was plenty for him to do that would keep him well away from the house for a few days.

  * * *

  ‘Well, I have cleaned and bandaged the leg. Now we must wait. I have given him a sleeping draught which should see him through to the morning and after that it will be up to you to keep him still while the leg heals. He will be as good as new in a few weeks.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor.’

  Zelah stared down at the motionless little figure in the middle of the bed. Nicky had fainted away when the doctor began to work on his leg and now he looked so fragile and uncharacteristically still that tears started to her eyes.

  ‘Now, now, Miss Pentewan, no need for this. The boy has a strong constitution—by heaven, no one knows that better than I, for I have been calling at West Barton since he was a sickly little scrap of a baby that no one expected to survive. I’m hoping that bruise on his head is nothing serious. I haven’t bled him, but if he begins to show a fever then I will do so tomorrow. For now keep him calm and rested and I will call again in the morning.’

  The doctor’s gruff kindness made her swallow hard.

  ‘Thank you, Dr Pannell. And if he wakes in pain...?’

  ‘A little laudanum and water will do him no harm.’

  There was a knock at the door and the housekeeper peeped in.

  ‘Here’s the little lad’s papa come to see him, Doctor.’ She flattened herself against the door as Reginald Buckland swept in, hat, gloves and riding whip clutched in one hand and an anxious look upon his jovial features.

  ‘I came as soon as I heard. How is he?’

  Zelah allowed the doctor to repeat his prognosis.

  ‘Can he be moved?’ asked Reginald, staring at his son. ‘Can I take him home?’

  ‘I would not advise it. The wound is quite deep and any jolting at this stage could start it bleeding again.’

  ‘But he cannot stay here, in the house of a man I hardly know!’

  Doctor Pannell’s bushy eyebrows drew together.

  ‘I understood the major was some sort of relative of yours, Mr Buckland.’

  Reginald shrugged.

  ‘Very distant. Oh, I admit it was through my letters to a cousin that he heard about Rooks Tower being vacant, but I had never met him until he moved here, and since then we have exchanged barely a dozen words. He has never once come to West Barton.’

  A grim little smile hovered on the doctor’s lips.

  ‘No, Major Coale has not gone out of his way to make himself known to his neighbours.’

  ‘I think Nicky must stay here, Reginald.’ Zelah touched his arm. ‘Major Coale has put his house and servants at our disposal.’

  ‘Aye, he must, at least until the wound begins to heal,’ averred Dr Pannell, picking up his hat. �
�Now, I shall be away and will return tomorrow to see how my patient does.’

  Reginald remained by the bed, staring down at his son and heir. He rubbed his chin. ‘If only I knew what to do. If only his mama could be with him!’

  ‘Impossible, when she is confined with little Reginald.’

  ‘Or Nurse.’

  ‘Yes, she would be ideal, but my sister and the new baby need her skill and attentions,’ said Zelah. ‘I have considered all these possibilities, Reginald, and I think there is only one solution. You must leave Nicky to my care.’

  ‘But that’s just it,’ exclaimed Reginald. ‘I cannot leave you here.’

  ‘And I cannot leave Nicky.’

  ‘Then I had best stay, too.’

  Zelah laughed.

  ‘Now why should you do that? You know nothing about nursing. And besides, what will poor Maria do if both you and I are away from home? I know how my sister suffers with her nerves when she is alone for too long.’

  ‘Aye, she does.’ Reginald took a turn about the room, torn by indecision.

  Nicky stirred and muttered something in his sleep.

  ‘Go home, Reginald. These fidgets will disturb Nicky.’

  ‘But this is a bachelor household.’

  ‘That is unfortunate, of course, but it cannot be helped.’ She dipped a cloth in the bowl of lavender water and gently wiped the boy’s brow. ‘If it is any comfort, Reginald, Major Coale has informed me—via his housekeeper—that he will not come into this wing of the house while we are here. Indeed, once he had seen Nicky safely into bed he disappeared, giving his housekeeper orders to supply us with everything necessary. I shall sleep in the anteroom here, so that I may be on hand should Nicky wake in the night, and I will take my meals here. So you see there can be no danger of impropriety.’

  Reginald did not look completely reassured.

  ‘Would you like me to send over our maid?’

  ‘Unnecessary, and it would give offence to Mrs Graddon.’ Zelah smiled at him. ‘We shall go on very comfortably, believe me, if you will arrange for some clothes to be sent over for us. And perhaps you will come again tomorrow and bring some games for Nicky. Then we shall do very well.’

  ‘But it will not do! You are a gently bred young lady—’

  ‘I am soon to be a governess and must learn to deal with situations such as this.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Trust me, Reginald. Nicky must stay here and I shall remain to look after him until he can be moved to West Barton. Now go and reassure Maria that all is well here.’

  He took his leave at last and Zelah found herself alone in the sickroom for the first time. Nicky was still sleeping soundly, which she knew was a good thing, but it left her with little to do, except rearrange the room to her satisfaction.

  Zelah took dinner in the room, but the soup the housekeeper brought up for Nicky remained untouched, for he showed no signs of waking.

  * * *

  ‘Poor little lamb, sleep’s the best thing for him,’ said Mrs Graddon when she came to remove the dishes. ‘Tomorrow I shall make some lemon jelly, to tempt his appetite. I know he’s very fond of that.’

  ‘Oh?’ Zelah looked up. ‘Is my nephew in the habit of calling here?’

  ‘Aye, bless his heart. If he finds an injured animal or bird in the woods he often brings it here for the master to mend, and afore he goes he always comes down to the kitchens to find me.’

  Zelah put her hands to her cheeks, mortified.

  ‘Oh dear, he really should not be bothering Major Coale with such things, or you.’

  ‘Lord love ’ee, mistress, the boy ain’t doin’ no ’arm,’ exclaimed Mrs Graddon. ‘In fact, I think ’e does the master good.’ She paused, slanting a sidelong glance at Zelah. ‘You’ve probably noticed that the major shuns company, but that’s because o’ this.’ She rubbed her finger over her left temple. ‘Right across his chest, it goes, though thankfully it never touched his vital organs. Took a cut to his thigh, too, but the sawbones stitched him up before he ever came home, so his leg’s as good as new.’

  ‘But when he walks...’

  The housekeeper tutted, smoothing down her apron.

  ‘He’s had the very finest doctors look at ’im and they can find nothing wrong with his leg. They say ’tis all in his head. For the master don’t always limp, as I’ve noticed, often and often.’ She sighed. ‘Before he went off to war and got that nasty scar he was a great one for society—him and his brother both. Twins they are and such handsome young men, they captured so many hearts I can’t tell you!’

  ‘You’ve known the family for a long time?’

  ‘Aye, miss, I started as a housemaid at Markham, that’s the family home, where the master’s brother, the viscount, now lives. Then when the master decided to set up his own house here, Graddon and I was only too pleased to come with him. But he don’t go into company, nor does he invite anyone here, and I can understand that. I’ve seen ’em—when people meets the master, they look everywhere but at his face and that do hurt him, you see. But Master Nick, well, he treats the major no different from the rest.’

  Zelah was silent. In her mind she was running over her meeting with Major Coale. Had she avoided looking at his terrible scarred face? She thought not, but when she had first seen him she believed he was attacking Nicky and she had been in no mood for polite evasions.

  The housekeeper went off and Zelah settled down to keep watch upon her patient.

  * * *

  As the hours passed the house grew silent. She had a sudden yearning for company and was tempted to go down to the kitchen in the hope of meeting the housekeeper, or even a kitchen maid. She would do no such thing, of course, and was just wondering how she could occupy herself when there was a knock at the door. It was Mrs Graddon.

  ‘The major asked me to bring you these, since you likes reading.’ She held out a basket full of books. ‘He says to apologise, but they’s all he has at the moment, most of his books being still in the crates they arrived in, but he hopes you’ll find something here to suit.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Zelah took the basket and retreated to her chair by the fire, picking up the books one by one from the basket. Richardson, Smollett, Defoe, even Mrs Radcliffe. She smiled. If she could not amuse herself with these, then she did not deserve to be pleased. She was comforted by the major’s thoughtfulness. Feeling much less lonely, she settled down, surrounded by books.

  * * *

  It was after midnight when Nicky began to grow restless. Zelah was stretched out on the bed prepared for her when she heard him mutter. Immediately she was at his side, feeling his brow, trying to squeeze a little water through his parched lips. He batted aside her hand and turned his head away, muttering angrily. Zelah checked the bandages. They were still in place, but if he continued to toss and turn he might well open the wound and set it bleeding again.

  She wished she had not refused Mrs Graddon’s offer to have a truckle bed made up in the room for a maid, but rather than wring her hands in an agony of regret she picked up her bedroom candle and set off to find some help.

  Zelah had not ventured from the yellow bedroom since she had followed Nicky there earlier in the day. She retraced her steps back to the great hall, too anxious about her nephew to feel menaced by the flickering shadows that danced around her. There was a thin strip of light showing beneath one of the doors off the hall and she did not hesitate. She crossed to the door and knocked softly before entering.

  She was in Major Coale’s study, and the man himself was sitting before the dying fire, reading by the light of a branched candelabra on the table beside him.

  ‘I beg your pardon, I need to find Mrs Graddon. It’s Nicky...’

  He had put down his book and was out of the chair even as she spoke. He was not wearing his coat and the billowing shirt-sleeves made him look even bigger than she remembered.

  ‘What is wrong with him?’

  ‘He is feverish and I c-cannot hold him....’

  ‘Let me se
e.’ He added, observing her hesitation, ‘I have some knowledge of these matters.’

  Zelah nodded, impatient to return to Nicky. They hurried upstairs, the major’s dragging leg causing his shoe to scuff at each step. It was no louder than a whisper, but it echoed through the darkness. Nicky’s fretful crying could be heard even as they entered the anteroom. Zelah flew to his side.

  ‘Hush now, Nicky. Keep still, love, or you will hurt your leg again.’

  ‘It hurts now! I want Mama!’

  The major put a gentle hand on his forehead.

  ‘She is looking after your little brother, sir. You have your aunt and me to take care of you.’ He inspected the bottles ranged on the side table and quickly mixed a few drops of laudanum into a glass of water.

  The calm, male voice had its effect. Nicky blinked and fixed his eyes on Zelah, who smiled at him.

  ‘You are a guest in the major’s house, Nicky.’

  ‘Oh.’ The little fingers curled around her hand. ‘And are you staying here too, Aunt Zelah?’

  ‘She is,’ said the major, ‘for as long as you need her. Now, sir, let me help you sit up a little and you must take your medicine.’

  ‘No, no, it hurts when I move.’

  ‘We will lift you very carefully,’ Zelah assured him.

  ‘I don’t want to...’

  ‘Come, sir, it is only a little drink and it will take the pain away.’

  The major slipped an arm about the boy’s shoulders and held the glass to his lips. Nicky took a little sip and shuddered.

  ‘It is best taken in one go,’ the major advised him.

  The little boy’s mouth twisted in distaste.

  ‘Did you take this when you were wounded?’

  ‘Gallons of it,’ said the major cheerfully. ‘Now, one, two, three.’ He ruthlessly tipped the mixture down the boy’s throat. Nicky swallowed, shuddered and his lip trembled. ‘There, it is done and you were very brave. Miss Pentewan will turn your pillows and you will soon feel much more comfortable.’

  ‘Will you stay, ’til I go to sleep again?’