Concern flickered in her wide eyes. Today they were the color of forest leaves. “I hope everything is all right.”
“Yes, they just needed an update.”
“Of men to send back?”
He clamped his teeth together before the groan could escape. By themselves, the words were accusatory, but, meeting her gaze, he found only sympathy. “I’m afraid so.”
“What an ugly business this war is.” Her shoulders sagged as she glanced back to the building she’d exited. “Some cannot escape what they have been called to do, while others sit and wait.”
Before he could comment on her cryptic words, a loaded bus swerved by and splashed water over the back of his trousers and boots. So much for his pressing and polishing until the wee hours of the morning. “Might I suggest we get off the footpath before we drown? I know a small teashop around the corner.”
She twisted the handle of her handbag.
“They serve the sweetest biscuits you can imagine.”
Her lips eased into a smile. “I’d love to.”
Finding the shop, they settled at a small table beside the front window and sipped their tea over a plate stuffed with chocolate biscuits, raspberry cream puffs, and lemon sugar rolls. The smell of warm coffee lingered in the air as the soft hum of other patrons drifted from surrounding tables.
Prisms from the overhead chandelier danced across Gwyn’s hair, turning it a rich chestnut. William smiled, imagining it felt just as luxurious as it looked. The battle-hardened knot in his stomach eased for the first time in months.
“Verdict?” he asked as she bit into a cream puff.
Gwyn licked a drop of cream from her finger and smiled. “Delicious. I’ve always envied people who know of the great little hole-in-the-wall shops. Privy to secrets unknown to the rest of the world.”
“Stick with me.” He added a slice of lemon to his tea. “I’ll show you all the spots worth knowing, though I can’t take credit for discovering this one. My mother’s friends rave about it every time they come to London. I normally don’t frequent places with such spindly chairs, but the sweets call to me.”
“Then I am ever more grateful that you forsook masculine comforts to eat pastries with me.” She raised her cup. “To sweet eating.”
He clinked his cup to hers, grateful the daintiness didn’t chip. The regiment boys would never stop their ribbing if they could see him now. But, then again, they never took tea with such a lovely companion.
“My goodness, this certainly was a welcomed distraction.” Gwyn dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin before carefully folding it on the table. “I’m surprised Miss Hale didn’t accompany you. She dearly loves a trip to town whenever the opportunity arises.”
William shifted uncomfortably. Cecelia Hale, as lovely as she was, hadn’t crossed his mind since dropping her off after the picnic she had planned two days ago. “Yes, she’s mentioned shopping several times. Most of which I did not understand, so I kept my mouth shut.”
“It’s best to let her do most of the talking.” Gwyn dropped her gaze and picked at the edge of her napkin. “You’ll grow accustomed to it.”
But chatter wasn’t something he wanted to grow accustomed to. At least not chatter from Cecelia Hale. “I’m afraid my limited time left will not allow for such opportunities.”
Gwyn’s fingers stilled, but she didn’t look up. “She’ll be disappointed.”
Would Gwyn? “One of many disappointments I’ll bring her.”
She finally looked up. Her mouth parted, but what words she was to say died as a waiter dressed in starched black and white brought a fresh pot of tea to their table. Gwyn poured herself a new cup and took a long sip. “Nothing like warm tea and a little sugar to pick one’s spirits up.”
“Were they trodden upon?” William added a drop of milk to his cup.
She leaned forward, circling her hands around her teacup. “The FANY rejected me.”
Relief spiked through him. Safer rolling bandages in dear ol’ Blighty than rumbling over shell-broken roads in France. “I’m sorry. I know it meant a great deal to you.”
“Every day I read the paper. We’re told that each of us must do what we can to help win this war.” She twirled the cup between her hands. “They should include their specific requirements instead of being so coy.”
“You think the army is selective in war duties?”
“Not when it comes to knitting mittens. No, I take that back. My attempts at knitting were rejected as well. I forgot to add thumbs.”
“Thumbs are useful when loading shells.”
“Yes, thumbs provide importance. So do one’s age and socioeconomic background.” Her cup clattered in its saucer. “Does age really matter when a man is dying?”
No. Bullets were the most indiscriminate objects he’d ever seen. Ripping through homes, animals, generals, and boys without a whisker to their soft cheeks. “Perhaps they wish to spare young minds. Once the horror is inflicted, it never goes away.”
She gripped the edge of the table, searching his face with a direct honesty that caught him off guard. And he was never caught off guard. His fingers curled into his knee, unsure of what was to come.
“Do you believe you’ll ever find peace from this chaos?”
The breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding eased out. “I pray for that every day, but this is the life I’ve been given, and I’ll accept the consequences. You have a choice I was never allowed.”
“I was not born a chauffeur’s daughter by accident. My skills, my knowledge, my grease-stained fingers have a purpose. I cannot sit on my hands and watch others take my place behind the wheel. If one opportunity doesn’t want me, then I shall find one that will.”
A silent groan filled his throat. She’d read too much propaganda, and, like the rest of the country, she didn’t see the death sentence behind it. “Why are you so eager for this fight?”
“I am eager to make a difference by using what humble skills I have to offer.”
“I sense this is more than simply rolling bandages and nursing the wounded.”
She turned to the window and traced a raindrop as it slithered its way down the glass. An unpinned curl of rich mahogany dotted with mist slipped over her ear. Most girls would have tucked it away or had it properly pinned in the first place. He liked that she didn’t.
“If I told you the unabashed truth, you would despise my selfishness.”
“Try me.”
Dropping her hand to her lap, she turned back to him. Green steel glinted in her eyes. “I long to see the world beyond a garage. If I can help our boys at the same time, then why not go now?”
“Your work at the hospital is just as valuable.” With no one shooting at you.
“Of course it is, and the volunteers there are doing a wonderful job, but I can do more.”
The battle was turning against him. He shifted in his seat, bracing his elbows on either side of the china dessert plate. “What would dear Mrs. Shearing say if she heard your plans?”
“I’m sure it would be along the lines of ‘good riddance.’” She grinned. “She’s considered me a hindrance from the first day. If not for Cecelia, she’d have me booted to scrubbing bedpans.”
“Scrubbing bedpans is an honest day’s work that someone as devoted as Mrs. Shearing should not twitch her nose at.”
“I don’t think one could help it.”
William burst into laughter, startling several of the customers around them. A stitch pricked his side, reminding him of how long it had been since finding something to smile about.
The lady sitting at the table behind Gwyn eased from her chair and glided to their table. Tall and thin with elegant black hair sprinkled with gray and a sharp nose protruding from a long face, she looked like a flightless crane.
William surged to his feet. “I do apologize for disturbing you, madam.”
The woman raised a hand. “Not a word of that, young man. It’s good to hear a man laugh again
, especially one in uniform. It gives me hope in such dreary times. I came over because of your conversation. Yes, I know how rude it is to eavesdrop, but I could not help myself. It’s not every day you meet a woman driver.” Dragging the chair from her table, she plopped down between them. “Lady Dowling, at your service. And you are, my dear?”
Gwyn’s jaw sagged, but she snapped it up. “Gwyn Ruthers, your ladyship. And this is Captain Crawford of the Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire.”
William bowed at the waist. “Your ladyship.”
Lady Dowling flapped her hand at him. “Sit, sit, Captain. This is your table that I’ve barged upon.”
William maneuvered his way into his chair, knocking the thin legs with his knees.
“As I said, I overheard you say you’ve been rejected from the FANYs.” Despite the wrinkles at each corner, Lady Dowling’s eyes glinted like sharpened razors. “A lot of pretentious go-getters for turning away such an eager volunteer. Their loss, I say.”
“They do have their rules.” Gwyn’s mouth twisted.
“Rules, bah.” Lady Dowling turned unflinching brown eyes to William. “Captain, have you ever known the Huns to obey the rules? Does the Kaiser ask for permission before he lobs shells over our trenches?”
“Not that I’m aware of, your ladyship.” William bit back the urge to grin.
“There you have it.” Lady Dowling smacked a wrinkled palm against the table. “As you said, Miss Ruthers, or may I call you Gwyn? What does age matter when men are dying? We need help now from those willing and able.”
Gwyn’s eyes flicked to William’s before turning back to Lady Dowling. “I completely agree.”
“I know you do, that’s why I’m sitting here.” A smile creased the papery skin around Lady Dowling’s thin mouth as she leaned forward. “We need courageous hearts like yours. More specifically, I need them. I’m starting my own private hospital and ambulance brigade in France, and I’d like to recruit you.”
CHAPTER 4
Excitement buzzed in Gwyn’s ears as Lady Dowling’s mouth continued to move, but she heard not a word. A chance to serve on the front line as a private recruit? To travel to France? She pinched herself to keep from leaping up and clicking her heels.
“I’ve managed to acquire a few motorcars for my fleet,” her ladyship said. “Not that I count three as a fleet, but it’s better than none. As a chauffeur’s daughter, I trust you know your way under the hood.”
Gwyn nodded as her eagerness threatened to jump out in full force. “I do.”
“Excellent, I shall leave repairs in your hands. What else?” Lady Dowling tapped a long finger against her chin. “I have ten nurses and two orderlies recently turned away from the army due to crooked spines, though you can’t tell. I need one more driver and a few extra beds, and, of course, I’m waiting for the Red Cross supplies to come in, but we should be ready to sail within the month. Perhaps two depending on how the training goes.”
“A-a month?”
“Yes, dear. We need to sail before the Channel turns icy or we wait until spring, and that is much too long.”
William leaned forward with brow furrowed. “You say this is a private hospital? No funds or support from an organization?”
“Just a few donations from the Red Cross, but everything else is from my own pocket, or my late husband’s, I should say. As the Marquis of Dowling, he left me a sizeable sum upon his death, and, with no sons, I may do as I please with it. While I wait for grandsons from my daughters, I shall use my fortune to help those less fortunate by opening my chateau in France.” She reached over and patted Gwyn’s hand. “Don’t worry, dear. I shall pay for all expenses, including salaries for those who come to work for me.”
“I … that’s very kind.” Gwyn’s heart thumped like a gasket ready to blow. It sounded too good to be true.
William sat on the edge of his chair, one palm flat on the tabletop. “With no organization affiliation, you will have no protection, no demanding rights upon the government, and no voice in how the wounded are collected and distributed.”
A smug smile stretched across Lady Dowling’s face. “My dear Captain. I know you are accustomed to rules and regulations, that everything must run through at least twenty people before it is approved. That is the military. In the real world, money talks. And I have more than King Midas.”
“But this is war, m’lady.” He glanced across the table at Gwyn. A frown puckered his brow. “If anything should happen …”
“If anything should happen, my workers and I will not be left to the enemy’s hands,” Lady Dowling said. “I introduced Lord Haig to his lovely wife, Doris, and they are frequent guests at my table along with General French and the Churchills.”
“With all due respect, France is hardly the place to worry about dinner guests. Their prestige may not reach that far in the field.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have written authorities from each of them, signed and sealed, should I need a leverage.”
A waiter brought new tea and a plate high with biscuits. Gwyn refilled her cup, but her stomach was too topsy-turvy for more sweets. “Where is your home in France, your ladyship?”
“South of Amiens, in a green valley dotted with poppy fields. Maison du Jardins, we call it.”
“It sounds lovely.”
If possible, William sat even straighter in his chair. “That’s near the Somme River.”
Lady Dowling nodded. “My husband and I used to take picnics there all the time. Quite the enchanting view.”
“I doubt the views are so enchanting now.” William tapped a finger on the table. “There’s been heavy fighting in that area.”
“What better place for my hospital?”
An electric current rippled through Gwyn, sparking and charging until she felt it ready to burst into light. “I think it sounds wonderful. Close to the action allows us better access and quicker service to the men. The greatest complaint amongst the medical staff and wounded is always the dangerous routes from the battlefield to the clearing stations. If we can cut that in half, they’ll have a fighting chance.”
The same current fired in Lady Dowling’s eyes. “Precisely.”
William, however, doused it all with his waiting bucket of practical water. “Ladies, as stalwart and courageous as this plan sounds, having anything more than a dressing station so close to the field is folly. The wounded need rest and clean bandages, not bombs exploding overhead and Germans marching down the poplar-lined drive.”
Gwyn wished she had a real bucket of water. She’d dump it straight over his head. “The wounded need some place to go. More places mean more care.”
“That’s not a guarantee. It’s a dangerous situation for all involved, the wounded and staff. A staff that may or may not be trained to deal with battlefield conditions.”
“Before being allowed to work in hospital, all volunteers are put through extensive training,” Gwyn said. “I lived in a tent for a week, cooking, washing, and drilling before they allowed us to touch a bandage.”
“But your feet remained on English soil far from shrieking shells and muddy trenches.”
Gwyn flattened her feet on the floor to keep them from kicking him under the table. “Everyone must start somewhere. I’m fairly sure Florence Nightingale and Clara Barton were not experts their first day in the field.”
“If I may interject before the guns continue to blaze.” Lady Dowling clinked the side of her cup with a spoon. “Each person on my staff has been nurse-trained, and the drivers will each need to complete a competency course. The hills around my country estate in Lanchester should provide the perfect test. Miss Ruthers, I believe you could help design a course to weed through the inexperienced drivers. Nothing too long, of course, and all the rain should provide plenty of mud which I understand is a large predicament in France.” She cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered, “Captain Crawford should appreciate that.”
“Does that mean you’ll hire me?”
Heat flamed across Gwyn’s neck and cheeks. She didn’t dare look across the table. “He’s not mine. I mean, we don’t … we are only acquaintances.”
The thin skin around Lady Dowling’s mouth puckered. “Pity.” She dabbed the corners of her mouth, pulled a small white card from her handbag, and stood. “Here is my card. If we have an agreement, I’ll expect your arrival in two weeks.”
Gwyn cradled the card with reverence. She could almost feel the wind of France blowing across the embossed letters. “Don’t you want to test me first? Make sure I know how to steer my way around a cow?”
“Certainly. You must pass the driving test along with all of my other recruits. I’ll only take the best. Once all of my troops have passed muster, we will sail from England at the same time, as a unified front. I hope you approve of that, Captain.”
Standing, William grasped his hands behind his back and bowed slightly. “I pray all of our troops will be as unified as yours, m’lady.”
“Amen to that. Good day to you both.”
The room shrank in the wake of Lady Dowling’s departure. The chatter of nearby tables droned like faraway bees, oblivious to Gwyn’s world spinning like a top. So many things to do. Gathering her gloves and string purse, she pushed her chair back. “I really should be going. Lots to prepare.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
Gwyn considered an objection but changed her mind. No matter his stilted views, he didn’t deserve rudeness.
Outside, the rain stifled itself behind thick gray clouds, allowing them to walk without a brolly. Cecelia’s feathered hat, on the other hand, had seen too much drizzle to revive under the small break.
They walked for two blocks before William cleared his throat. “I apologize for my forwardness back there. I didn’t mean to play devil’s advocate.”
Among the Poppies Page 5
