by Charles Todd
I laughed, and he let me go.
“The war might wait,” I said ruefully, “but Matron is likely to kill me.”
He drove me to Dover the next afternoon, after I’d given the police my statement, and I’d said good-bye to Roger Ellis, who had come into town to speak to me.
He too was on his way back to France, his orders sending him through Portsmouth.
He stood before me, trying to find the words he wanted to say.
I shook my head. “I don’t like leaving Sophie in Vixen Hill any more than you do. But I have no choice until I find Sister Marie Joseph.”
“I don’t know what to do about her,” he told me truthfully. “She’s probably mine, isn’t she?”
“She’s legally Sophie Hebert. You told me. I’d leave it at that. Even if you adopt her.”
“Yes. You can’t know how many times I’ve regretted that night.”
“I don’t think Claudette did. She gave her husband a child, even though he didn’t live to see it. Did you ever think that Sophie might, one day, inherit his property? She deserves it. When the war is over, you could see that her interests are protected.”
“I shall.” He took my hand, then leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “I hated you when I first met you. God keep you safe.”
“And you as well.”
He was gone, and Simon was ready to leave. He had already arranged for someone to transport the Major’s vehicle safely back to Dover. I stepped into the motorcar and leaned back against the seat.
“I would so much like to go home to Somerset.” I’d spoken to my mother and the Colonel Sahib on the inn’s telephone. Their voices had sounded so near, I felt the distance sharply.
“I know. Next time.”
When I landed in France, it was the darkness before dawn, and the streets of Rouen seemed empty, even the new recruits gone up toward the fighting.
But across the water as we had moved toward the quay and set about docking came the call of an Australian kingfisher, and I stood by the rail, waving a white handkerchief in response.
Sergeant Larimore was there to greet me when we were allowed to disembark. He looked better than I’d seen him since he’d been wounded, though still a little singed around the edges.
“You got back safely, I see,” I said.
“It’s the saintly life I lead,” he assured me. “They fussed over the burns and my bravery, and the fact that I’d passed out from the pain and couldn’t report back to the Base Hospital.”
And I was sure there was a hint of canary feathers around his mouth as he added, “I told the nuns, Bess. I traced them and I confessed to what I’d done. And I told them Sophie was safe, that she’d be brought back to France if they wished.”
“Dear God. What did they say?” I stopped stock-still, waiting for another blow to fall.
“They were that grateful. I had a long and very serious lecture from Sister Marie Joseph about the dire effects of impulsive behavior. They’re being moved to a house in Lille, the nuns and the children with them. She gave me the direction. And the direction of that lawyer on Fish Street.”
“The Street of Fishes.”
“Aye, well, I’m a sheep farmer, I can’t speak the language.”
I laughed. “You’re the canniest sheep farmer I know.”
“I should hope so. At any rate, the good Sister told me she would consider a proper request for Sophie to live in England, as long as she is taught about her parents and the nuns who protected her.”
We walked on. “I must write to Roger Ellis. He’s on his way back to France. He’ll have to see to it, and contact the solicitor.”
“As to that,” Sergeant Larimore said, more canary feathers drifting around his cheeky head, “I paid that gentleman a friendly call. Said I was best mates with this Ellis chap, and he’s willing to represent him.”
“Sergeant Larimore, you’re incorrigible!”
“Aren’t I just?” He shifted my valise to the other arm, and said, “Do you know the French think there’s a German spy in the bulrushes down along the river? I’ve been here for every ship landing, waiting for you. Only yesterday they sent another detachment of soldiers to scour the banks. If you hadn’t come soon, I was likely to be shot as a spy.”
I laughed.
But I had also noticed that he was wearing not the blue serge of the Base Hospital but his uniform.
“Are you healed?”
“Not completely,” he informed me. “But if you’re going back to the forward dressing station, I don’t see any point in lingering here. I’ll just get myself wounded again and you can save me this time. The Aborigines have a saying, you know. That if you save a man’s life, he’s yours as long as he lives.”
“I don’t believe a word of it. Besides, if it were true, you already belong to another nursing sister.”
He chuckled complacently, shortening his stride to match mine. “Ah, but it was the doctor who saved me that time. And he doesn’t count.”
About the Author
CHARLES TODD is the New York Times bestselling author of the Inspector Ian Rutledge mysteries, the Bess Crawford mysteries, and one stand-alone novel. A mother-and-son writing team, they live in Delaware and North Carolina, respectively.
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Also by Charles Todd
The Ian Rutledge Mysteries
A Test of Wills
Wings of Fire
Search the Dark
Watchers of Time
Legacy of the Dead
A Fearsome Doubt
A Cold Treachery
A Long Shadow
A False Mirror
A Pale Horse
A Matter of Justice
The Red Door
A Lonely Death
The Bess Crawford Mysteries
A Duty to the Dead
An Impartial Witness
Other Fiction
The Murder Stone
Credits
Cover design by James L. Iacobelli
Cover photograph © by Mark Owen/Trevillion Images
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A BITTER TRUTH. Copyright © 2011 by Charles Todd. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
ISBN 978-0-06-201570-9
Epub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780062092595
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