They would never live in a cosy cottage with poorer patients paying Bennett with a chicken or a few eggs; they would never sit outside in the moonlight on warm summer nights, or pull their children on a sledge through the snow. Never again would she know the bliss of lovemaking, or wake to find Bennett holding her in his arms. It was all a foolish fantasy; in real life people didn’t get what they wanted.
Lady Harvey loved Angus but she had to live out her life with a man who wanted other men. She’d even died without knowing her daughter didn’t hate her for what she’d done. Rufus might marry Lily, but he’d have years when his crops would fail, chickens wouldn’t lay and they’d go hungry. Nell would never have a baby of her own. Matt would never be rich. Even dashing, handsome Angus had not got what he wanted. He might come home to find he had a daughter, but that wasn’t going to make up for Lady Harvey being dead.
She felt she was back to the night Albert had thrown her out of the gatehouse, the same feeling of despair overwhelming her, the same icy rain mingling with her tears. She’d forced herself to survive then, ever the optimist that things would get better. But she knew better now: life was just one long series of calamities until you died.
She couldn’t bear any more. She hadn’t the will, the strength or even the curiosity about what might lie ahead to go on. If she just climbed over the wall and went down through the meadow, she’d reach the river. The water would wash over her head, and all this pain would be gone.
But she felt confused when she looked down, for it seemed she was already in the river. It was black and shiny in the darkness, washing over her feet. The wind was pulling at her coat and her hair as if trying to drawher in deeper.
Above the noise of the wind she could hear something else, but she couldn’t identify what it was, only that it was coming towards her. She was frightened now, for the sound was filling her head and she didn’t know how to get away from it.
‘Shit my britches,’ the coachman exclaimed as he sawa flash of white up ahead and realized it was someone standing in the road. ‘Whoa!’ he yelled, pulling on the reins for all he was worth. ‘Whoa, boys, whoa.’
‘What is it, coachman?’ his passenger called from the carriage. ‘Is the road flooded?’
The coachman didn’t answer for he was intent on stopping his horses. Through the heavy rain he could see now it was a woman by the narrowness of her shoulders and the fullness of the clothes, and she was looking right at him, her eyes glinting in the reflection of his coach lights.
‘Move,’ he yelled, but she stayed right where she was. He grabbed the brake, and heard the grinding sound of wood against the metal-rimmed wheels, pulled tighter on the reins, and finally, only a few feet from her, his horses came to a halt.
The coachman leapt down from the carriage. ‘You crazy mare,’ he yelled, reaching her in two strides and catching hold of her arm. ‘I could have run you down. Ain’t you got nuffin’ better to do than stand in the highway?’
She just stared at him, her eyes wide and frightened.
‘Can’t you hear?’ he shouted over the noise of the rain. ‘Where you from?’
He heard the clatter of one of his gentlemen getting out of the carriage behind him. ‘What shall I do, sir?’ he called back over his shoulder. ‘She don’t seem like she’s got her wits about her.’
The coachman heard his gentleman gasp, and suddenly he was standing there beside him. ‘Hope!’ he exclaimed. ‘My God, it is Hope, what are you doing out here?’
‘You know her, sir?’ the coachman asked incredulously.
‘I do, coachman,’ he said, lifting the woman up into his arms. ‘We’ll take her home with us.’
Nell was beside herself with worry, looking at the clock, pulling back the curtains to look out of the window, then looking at the clock again. Hope had been gone for over an hour now, and even a stray dog wouldn’t stay out in rain like this.
She went to the front door and opened it, then shut it again when a gust of wind blew out the candle in the hall. She put on her cloak, then, remembering Betsy, took it off again.
‘Where can she be?’ she asked herself aloud. ‘I don’t like this one bit.’
Hope had been a little odd after Albert’s death; agitated, forgetful and often a bit vacant as if her mind was elsewhere. Yet that was to be expected. She had, after all, killed a man, and that would take some time to get over. But as she was nothing like as bad as she was after hearing about Bennett, Nell had ignored it, and it had passed. It started again after Lady Harvey’s death: there were several times when she began a job, then walked away without finishing it. Yesterday she had left Betsy on the floor in her bedroom wearing only a vest while she went downstairs for something, and forgot to go back and dress her.
But all day today she’d been most peculiar. She’d come down the stairs ready to leave for the funeral without her hat, she didn’t give Dora any instructions about Betsy, and when they’d reached the church she hadn’t kneeled to say a prayer, just stared around her as if she’d never been there before.
On the way back from the funeral she’d hardly said a word, and when she did it was to snap. Later she’d seemed so angry. Nell wished now that she’d taken all these pointers more seriously, for funerals had a way of disturbing folk and bringing back the past.
It was after eight now, but what could she do? She couldn’t leave Betsy alone in the house while she went to get help, but she couldn’t take her with her in rain like this.
‘Please come, Master Rufus,’ she prayed aloud. ‘I’m scared now.’
She put the kettle on to boil and filled up a large pan from the jug in the scullery.
Hearing a noise, she rushed to the front window, and through the rain she could just make out a carriage, and a man getting out.
‘Thank the Lord it’ll be Master Rufus,’ she sighed with relief, and dabbing her tears with her apron she rushed to the front door and flung it open.
She didn’t know the man standing there, but ducking under the big bush by the gate was a figure she knew very well. And he had Hope in his arms.
‘Oh, my Lord!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve come like an answer to my prayers, Captain Pettigrew! I’ve been that worried. What’s wrong with her? Where did you find her?’
*
Nell’s wits came back sufficiently to direct the Captain to take Hope in by the parlour fire. She was white-faced, her eyes staring sightlessly, and not knowing what else to do, Nell ran upstairs to find towels, blankets and dry clothes. But she was all of a flutter that the Captain had come home to such a thing, with company too, and she hadn’t got anything for their supper.
But as she came back into the parlour the tall, slender, pale-faced man to whom she had opened the door was alone with Hope, kneeling beside her and stripping off her wet clothes.
‘I won’t have a stranger do that to my sister,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m surprised at you, sir.’
‘I’m her husband, Nell,’ he said without even looking round. ‘And I’m a doctor. So if you’d be so good as to see where Angus has got to with the brandy, I’ll just carry on.’
‘You are Bennett?’ Nell said stupidly.
‘The very same,’ he said, glancing round. ‘I expected to greet my sister-in-law for the first time under better circumstances, but we can’t help that now.’
Nell shot off to get the brandy, too stunned to say anything further.
By the time she came back Hope’s sodden clothes were on the floor and Bennett had wrapped her in a blanket and was cradling her in his arms.
‘Come on now, my darling,’ he was saying to her. ‘Speak to me, it’s Bennett, your husband. I’m home.’
Nell handed over the brandy and watched with her hands over her mouth, hardly daring to breathe as Bennett held the glass to Hope’s lips.
‘Good girl,’ he said softly as she sipped it. ‘You’re quite safe now, it’s only me, and you’ll soon be warm again. Now, drink a little more for me?’
She lifted he
r head a little, sipped and then coughed. ‘That’s better,’ Bennett said. ‘Now, you are going to sit right up and drink the rest. To think I believed I was coming home to be nursed by you!’
It was as if the sound of his voice, the touch of his hands suddenly broke through to her. ‘Bennett?’ she questioned cautiously. ‘Bennett!’ she repeated. ‘Is it really you?’
A hand on Nell’s shoulder drew her back out of the room. ‘Come on, Nell,’ Angus said. ‘Let’s leave them to it.’
Bennett wound a towel round Hope’s wet hair, then lay down on the rug beside her, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at her. It was too soon to ask why she’d been in the road on such a night, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell her that he’d nearly died of fright when Angus carried her into the carriage and she didn’t know either of them.
For now it was just enough to look at her. To see those beautiful dark eyes gazing back at him, her plump lips curved into the sweetest smile, for it was all that he had dreamed of while he was so sick. He knew very well that he’d been a hair’sbreadth from death and he was sure it was only his will to see Hope and their baby that had kept him alive. None of the other men who had gone down with typhoid fever with him survived, and if Angus hadn’t come and rescued him from Scutari when he did, the chances were he’d be gone now too.
Bennett was still so weak he couldn’t have picked Hope up from the road, but now he was back with her, he felt his recovery would be speedy.
‘We have a little girl, I believe?’ he said. ‘Angus told me he had a letter from you as he was leaving Balaclava. She is well, I hope?’ He stopped, suddenly afraid that this wasn’t so and that was why Hope had been out in the rain.
‘She’s beautiful,’ Hope said, and suddenly her face lit up with a radiant smile. ‘Oh, Bennett, I was so afraid you’d never see her, that you weren’t coming back. So much has happened. Why didn’t you write?’
‘I asked a nurse to write for me when I first became ill,’ he said sadly. ‘But she had so many patients, maybe she forgot. I was so ill that for a while I hardly knew who I was, let alone being able to write myself. But I daresay the letters I wrote when I began to recover will turn up one day soon. I didn’t get any from you either, so maybe we’ll get those eventually too.’
‘Kiss me,’ she asked, wriggling her bare arms out of the blanket so she could hold him. ‘Then I’ll really believe it is you.’
This was the moment Bennett had waited for and dreamed of so often on the long voyage home. As they had sailed up the coast of Spain in a tremendous storm and he had been racked with seasickness, he’d clung on to the taste and feel of her to get him through it.
But as their lips met it was even sweeter than he had imagined. Firecrackers exploded in his head, he heard angels singing and bands playing. All of the hideousness of the Crimea and Scutari faded away. He was home, his beautiful Hope was in his arms, and all was right with the world.
Angus and Nell stayed in the kitchen while Hope and Bennett were in the parlour. Nell gave Angus some bread and cheese and of course he asked why Hope had been out in the rain and clearly not rational.
‘She was poorly after she got the letter from you about Bennett,’ she began to explain, but realizing there was too much to tell all at once she cut it short. ‘And I think Lady Harvey’s funeral today was finally too much for her.’
Even as the words came out she wished she could retract them. If everything had been as it should be, tonight all four of them should have been celebrating the men’s homecoming. Nell had prayed for this day, planned it in her head a hundred times. She’d imagined a big spread on the table, the Captain’s bed aired and a fire lit in his room. But instead of feasting, laughing and crying tears of joy, she and the Captain were here in the kitchen with only bread and cheese, and now she’d made his homecoming even sadder by telling him that his love was dead.
‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ she said hastily. ‘So much has happened that it’s hardly surprising Hope isn’t herself, but I shouldn’t have told you about Lady Harvey straight off.’
He had more lines on his face than he’d had before he went away, he was thinner too and he looked tired. But he was still such a handsome man. Those dark eyes, so much like Hope’s, had a way of looking at Nell which made her feel he could see right down to her soul.
‘Anne’s dead? What caused her to die?’
‘Her heart, sir.’ Nell hung her head. ‘But she died peaceful in her sleep.’
She looked up and sawhis eyes were damp. ‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ she whispered.
‘All of us wish to die in our sleep,’ he said sadly. ‘But for most it is a painful process. I am very glad that she escaped that. How is Rufus holding up?’
‘Well enough, sir,’ Nell said. ‘He has been a good friend to us in the past months. But will you tell me how you found Bennett?’
He looked relieved that she’d changed the subject and explained that he’d gone to Scutari to look for him.
‘It was the very devil of a time,’ he sighed. ‘His name was not on the list of patients at the hospital. I had to go through endless ships’ reports and eventually found his name on one of those. Three unnamed men died on that voyage, and they were buried at sea, so it seemed that Bennett was one of them. But I searched out other patients taken on that ship, and one rifleman who knew Bennett well assured me he had seen him carried off the ship on a stretcher. So then I had the job of searching for him in the hospital. With over a thousand sick and wounded it was a long job, but I found him in the end. He had been listed under the wrong name.’
‘But how could that happen?’
Angus shrugged. ‘The place is vast, with so few nursing staff, it’s a wonder the records are kept as well as they are, especially when many are brought in too sick even to say their own name. He was still in a bad way when I found him, but once I started cracking the whip and got him moved to a healthier ward with a bit more attention he began to improve.’
At that point in their conversation Betsy had started crying and Nell got up to see to her. But her parents had got there seconds before her.
Nell had never seen anything more beautiful and touching than Bennett’s reaction to his daughter. Half-laughing, half-crying, he took her into his arms and told her she was to stop crying because that was no way to greet her papa.
‘You go down and take care of Angus,’ Hope said to Nell, smiling with the radiance of a new bride. ‘We can see to Betsy. I’ve given you enough trouble for one evening, and Bennett is very tired too. Tell Angus all the news and tomorrow we’ll all celebrate the homecoming together.’
Nell paused before leaving the bedroom and looked back. Bennett had Betsy cradled in his arms, Hope, wearing only the nightgown Bennett had put on her, had her arms around him, both their heads bent towards their child. It was a beautiful tableau and some sense deep within Nell told her they would all be fine from now on.
*
When Nell went back downstairs Angus had moved into the parlour and was slouched in his favourite chair by the fire.
‘So where were we?’ he asked. ‘You said so much has happened. Tell me about it.’
‘Well, Albert was the main thing,’ she began cautiously, unsure that she could even explain it in a way he could understand.
She had forgotten what a good listener he was. Apart from getting her to expand on a couple of points, he didn’t interrupt.
‘My God,’ he exclaimed as she finished. ‘I knew Hope had a very tough streak but I wouldn’t have thought her capable of taking on that blackguard. But how was she afterwards? That is not a pretty image to be left in anyone’s mind.’
Nell agreed. ‘But that wasn’t all,’ she went on. ‘Before Albert died he told Rufus about you and his mother.’
Angus winced. ‘Can I expect him to come round here like a mad bull?’
Nell smiled faintly. ‘No, he was upset at first, but not now. You see, her ladyship chose to tell both him and Hope something el
se that day too. And you might be the mad bull when I admit my part in that.’
‘Go on,’ he said, leaning forward in his chair.
‘That Hope was her daughter, and you are Hope’s father.’
He looked at Nell in puzzlement. ‘I don’t understand. How can I be? Hope is your sister.’
Nell began to tremble then, afraid he was going to be angry she hadn’t told him this when she first came to work for him, or even after Sir William Harvey’s death.
It was far harder telling him than it had been to explain it to Hope. She stumbled over the words, she wept, and she felt afraid because his expression was so stern and cold.
‘I didn’t have any choice but to go along with it then,’ she cried when she’d finished. ‘I didn’t know you then, or who her father was. I was so young myself and I needed my position because my folks depended on my wages. I didn’t tell her ladyship that the baby hadn’t died until the day I left Briargate.
‘I am truly sorry I didn’t feel able to tell you before. But you see, I gave her ladyship my promise.’
He sighed deeply, sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.
The rain was still pouring down outside, splattering against the windows, and the wind was howling in the chimney. Nell squirmed in her chair, expecting that at any moment he would make an angry outburst.
‘Why didn’t Anne write and tell me she was carrying my child?’ he asked eventually, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘I would have come for her, taken care of her.’
‘You know why. She knew her reputation would be lost. You might have lost your commission.’
‘I’d have worked as a farm labourer if necessary,’ he spat out. ‘I’d have overcome every obstacle, fought any battle for her.’
‘I know that now,’ Nell said softly. ‘And I think she always knew it too. But it was a tough time for her; she cared for her husband, and her position. Maybe if Bridie hadn’t told her the baby was dead it might have been different.’
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