The Lost Love of a Soldier

by Jane Lark

  The carriage pulled into the courtyard of an inn near the docks in Portsmouth. The time for her innocence and carefree living was at an end.

  Once it came to a halt, he opened the door, climbed down and handed her out. “I’ll settle you into a room, then leave you while I find the Lieutenant Colonel. I need to tell him I’m here and find my men. I’ll come back afterwards.” Lifting his fob watch from his pocket he flicked it open to check the time. It was two after midday. “I should return for dinner. But if I have not, order a meal and eat in our room.”

  She nodded, but he could see she was nervous. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, as if holding back the words, don’t go. He did not wish to leave. Yet this was his life, many times she would be left alone.

  She smiled. It trembled a little. “I know you must go, it is your duty.” Her answer implied she’d read his mind, and he thanked God she was brave enough to override the words her heart wished to say.

  At least she understood. “Come then.”

  He settled her into a room, which looked out onto the busy street, although to the far right you could glimpse the sea, then said, “Goodbye,” after kissing her lips.

  He wished to stay, but her words were true – he had a duty. That came first and pleasure afterwards.

  It took a half-hour to walk through the docks and up the hill to the barracks. The other officers were there, with the Lieutenant Colonel. Paul was told who’d arrived and who was still to come, the date they would sail, and the name of the ship he and his men were to use. Then he went to visit his men who shared a room in the barracks.

  They greeted him, after saluting, with smiles and laughter, and he was smacked on the shoulder a dozen times when he told them he’d married a few days before. The 52nd was different. They had a rule that officers drilled with their men, and it developed a camaraderie and friendship which did not exist in other troops. As Ellen had said, he could have ridden in the cavalry, but the closeness of these men had got him through the last years. They’d endured horror together, lost comrades, and survived to fight again.

  He could not walk out and leave them when he’d told them of the plans for their sailing, so he sat down and shared a drink with them, then played a hand of cards, but all the time his blood itched to be back at the inn with Ellen.

  When he finally found an excuse to leave, it was dark. He looked at his watch. Seven. She would be bored and lonely. He quickened his pace.

  In fact she was asleep. She lay on top of the large bed in their room, fully clothed. The innkeeper had told Paul she’d not eaten before he’d come up and so he’d ordered a meal.

  She’d taken the pins out of her ebony hair and it had spread across the quilt, her pale skin was a stark contrast to it. He’d not seen her hair loose since Christmas. She was such a precious sight. He let her beauty ease his soul; the memories of war, the sound of cannon fire and rifles that had invaded his head when he’d sat among his men, slipped away.

  “Ellen.”

  Her eyelids fluttered and lifted, long dark lashes framing her very pale blue eyes. She took his breath when he turned and saw her for the first time each day. She was a balm to sooth his battle sore soul. “I’ve ordered dinner.”

  She sat up and blinked.

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “Is sleeping all that you’ve done?”

  She nodded. “I was tired.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “We are to sail in four days. Tomorrow I will take you to meet the other officers and my men.” She looked nervous. “They will like you, Ellen.”

  She nodded. A knock struck the door, announcing the arrival of their dinner.

  ~

  When Paul ushered her into his Lieutenant Colonel’s quarters, cold fear tightened in Ellen’s stomach. It had been one thing to travel with Paul, it was completely another to become a part of his life. She stepped into a world far beyond her father’s sheltered realm. A world she did not know, with Paul the warrior who still frightened her a little.

  Paul’s body stiffened as he entered. It felt as if his thoughts detached from her. Here, he was the soldier who had killed the highwayman, not the young man who’d turned music pages for her in her father’s drawing room – the man who had made her smile and laugh.

  All the men she was introduced to were just as intimidating, dressed in their smart red and gold regimental coats, looking tall and confident. But all of them smiled and bowed over her hand, wishing her well, and giving both her and Paul words of congratulations. Only his commanding officer, the Lieutenant Colonel, made her continue to feel uncomfortable, because he never stopped watching her from the moment she and Paul had entered until the moment they left. But the conversation progressed and all the men were polite and jovial. Particularly a man Paul called his closest friend, Captain George Montgomery. He followed them out of the office and onto the parade ground.

  “I am pleased for you, Paul. You’ve picked a pretty little piece…” His smile was for Paul, but passed onto Ellen. “We’ll have a ray of sunshine to look forward to in our baggage train, ma’am.” He gave Ellen another swift bow.

  “She will be my ray of sunshine though,” Paul answered, the jest sounded half joke and half warning. His friend winked in Ellen’s direction. A blush burned her skin.

  “Quite the diamond.” Captain Montgomery commented looking back at Paul. “And all yours, yes, I know. No wonder you do not wish to leave your wife behind.”

  “Come.” Paul gripped her arm gently. “Let me introduce you to my men. Good day George.” Glancing back at his friend, he nodded, his fingers already encouraging Ellen to move.

  “Good day, Paul.” His friend’s smile passed between them again. “Ma’am.”

  She smiled. He was a rogue; she could see the twinkle in his eye, and as they walked away Paul confirmed it. “George is a charmer, but you are to pay no mind to it, he is harmless in reality. Simply a slave to a pretty face–“

  “A sublime face!”

  The shout came from behind them, and they both looked back. Captain Montgomery grinned, lifting a hand in a gesture that said good-bye. Paul scowled when she looked up at him, but when they turned away, his gaze grew depth, warmth and humour. “It is true though – it is a sublime face.”

  A smile she could not have held back parted her lips. She could live in Paul’s world when there was a soft look in his eyes to carry her through. He let go of her arm, and instead she gripped his, as he pointed to a two-storey red brick building on the far side of the parade ground. “My men are quartered there. Tomorrow I shall have to be here at eight to run them through their paces. They’ll have been lax during leave, I imagine. It’s time we returned to routine.”

  Routine? She could not even begin to imagine the routine of her new life.

  When they entered the room full of soldiers, it was very different from meeting the officers. There were shouts and whoops and a mass of masculine energy surrounded her. She pressed close to Paul, gripping the sleeve of his scarlet coat tighter as his other arm lifted, calling for quiet.

  “Show my wife some courtesy!”

  The men then paraded past her, and Paul gave their names as they bowed.

  She did not lift her hand to any of them, but feeling wide-eyed and unnerved nodded at their comments and congratulations. Her mind span with names at the end of it, and she could not recall a single one.

  “Will you stay and take a drink with us?” Paul’s sergeant asked, looking at Paul.

  Paul looked at her, a question in his eyes. Are you comfortable?

  She was to live amongst these men, in closer quarters than she’d lived with her family. She refused to be feeble. She nodded.

  The Sergeant flicked his hand at one of the soldiers who moved to begin pouring from a jug, and others then moved too, refilling pewter beakers. She was given one full of frothing small beer, as was Paul, and then the sergeant encouraged them to take a seat on a long bench beside a long wooden table. They did.

&nb
sp; The sergeant stood to make a toast, holding up his dented tankard.

  “To the Captain and his wife.”

  “To the Captain and his wife!” The room chorused at a deafening pitch.

  Ellen looked along the table, at least fifty faces stared back, smiling. She was probably as red as it was possible to be, but still she lifted her beaker. “Thank you.”

  “Aye, thank you, for your good wishes,” Paul added, and then they both drank.

  Ellen looked at him as he set down his empty tankard. She set down hers, still half full.

  He appeared different amongst his men – more vital. Energy, mastery, and pride, oozed from his stance. He was definitely the warrior here, and he looked older.

  He turned to her, as if he sensed her staring, gripped her hand and lifted it onto his thigh, his hold gentle but secure.

  Love welled up inside her. Yes, he was a soldier, but his strength was protective, and with her, his touch was always gentle.

  They walked along the waterfront once they’d left the barracks, then returned to the inn and ate dinner in a private parlour.

  “Tomorrow I’ll have to leave early, Ellen, to drill the men.”

  Ellen nodded, she could do little but accept his life.

  “You can come if you wish?”

  Her eyes opened wider.

  “Not to stand on the ground, you understand, but you may watch from the barrack room I’ll have been allocated. You will be among the men all the time as we travel, it’s best you adjust to it.”

  She smiled. “Yes.” She wished to be able to fit in, at the moment it was all alien compared to the sheltered life she’d left, and here Paul was so different to the man she’d thought she knew.

  A smile tilted his lips, forming the dimple that stirred her heart with tenderness. Warmth and depth filled his eyes. “Shall we retire?”

  That same warmth turned her stomach over as he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. She rose and followed him upstairs.

  ~

  In the morning when Ellen woke, Paul stood before the wash bowl in the corner, he held a razor in his hand, as he looked at his image in a small mirror, shaving.

  He wore no shirt, only his grey pantaloons with his braces hanging loose, and his feet were bare.

  She watched the muscles moving in his back, and his shoulders, and looked at the strong defined curves of his upper arms as the etched lines shifted beneath his skin.

  Her husband was superb, physically as perfect as the statues lining the halls in her father’s Palladian mansion.

  Ellen turned and stretched and he must have caught her movement in the mirror, he looked at her through his reflection and smiled. “Good morning, my love.”

  My love. Those words made her stomach tumble over and the sight of his smile clutched tight in her chest.

  “Once I’m clothed, I’ll order breakfast. We’ll eat in the parlour. I’ll send a maid up to help you dress.”

  Ellen nodded, and then sitting up in bed watched him finish shaving and dress. Pride flared in her chest as well as love. He secured the buttons of his scarlet coat, smiling at her.

  “I’ll go down then and send up a maid.” He came to the bed and brushed a kiss on her cheek.

  As soon as he’d gone, Ellen rose to wash and prepare herself, her heart pacing swiftly in her chest. She would truly start her life as a soldier’s wife today.

  After breakfast they walked up the hill to the barracks. As they walked through the gate, the guards saluted Paul, and he them in reply. Within, he led her to a small room, which was empty bar a narrow, cot-like bed.

  Light broke into the dingy room through a small window in the outer wall. When Paul left, she leaned her elbow on the sill and looked down onto the parade ground.

  In a few minutes she saw him down there, walking into the centre of the parade ground. His men came from the far corner gathering in lines. But he did not merely stand and order them to walk as so, but marched with them in several formats and called for them to lift and aim their guns, before checking that they all stood as they should. Then he made them kneel and rise a dozen times, calling them to aim, and then kneel again, and form a square.

  It was an impressive spectacle, but again she had a sense, she didn’t really know the man she watched.

  At the end of the activity he walked about, speaking with each man and checking their equipment before letting them leave. Of course here it merely looked like a rehearsal for a theatrical show, but it was preparation for battle, not entertainment.

  When he came to fetch her, he still hid behind the guise of a military man and although she wished to hug him she did not. She did not think he’d welcome it. But he did offer his arm when they went outside, and said he would walk her back to the inn and take luncheon with her before returning alone to speak with the officers.

  So would this be her new life, watching his through occasional windows, while he fulfilled his duty and excluded her with stiff, silent, coldness?

  To do his duty he closed his true self off, hiding emotion and feelings – she did not like the soldier side of him.

  He did not leave her with nothing to do though, he ordered her to make a list of everything she’d need to take to America, and bid her write an advertisement for a woman to help her. He said they would recruit someone to act as her maid when the regiment reached Cork.

  Chapter Seven

  Ellen stood on the deck clutching the rail, watching England disappear. It had been two days since she’d first watched the regiment parade. Four days since she’d met the other side of her husband fully.

  It was midday, and Paul had spent the last hour instructing his men and ensuring they were all aboard and their kit stowed away before the ship sailed on the high tide.

  She’d met the other wives who were travelling with the regiment, all married to men of a lower rank than Paul. There were only four and they were on deck now too, keeping out of the way as the men worked below decks to organise the space the regiment had to share.

  Only an hour ago Ellen had learned she and Paul were to sleep in the open galley with his men. There would be no privacy. But they would reach Cork in two or three days. Yet when they sailed to America there would be weeks with no privacy.

  Her fingers gripped the rail over-tightly. She thought of Penny at home, possibly sitting before a warm fire working on her embroidery at this hour of day, or perhaps she practiced the pianoforte.

  A longing for home caught in Ellen’s breast.

  Something touched her waist and then a tall strong presence settled behind her. Her husband. She looked up and back. “You look sorrowful, Ellen.”

  Air left her lungs, a breath she hadn’t even known she’d held in. I am a little sorrowful, but only because she could not yet picture the future. She was happy with him, but there were so many unknowns, and her family had been left behind. She did not admit her insecurity though; that would be disrespectful…. “I’m well. It is simply odd to leave England when a month ago I’d travelled barely ten miles from home.”

  His fingers tucked a lock of hair, which kept catching the breeze and blowing across her face, behind her ear. “This must be difficult for you.”

  Ellen held his blue gaze. “I’m not afraid.”

  “I think you are, if you take the trouble to say you are not.” His fingers slipped over her cheek to tap beneath her chin. “Remember I’ve seen enough recruits preparing for battle to know the signs, Ellen.”

  She swallowed, then licked her lips to stop them feeling dry and saw his gaze lower to watch the gesture, before she spoke again. “I am afraid. A little. But only of what I do not know – what life will be like.” He’d become more and more the soldier she did not know well, and less and less the man she had met in her father’s beautiful state drawing room back at home.

  “Ask the other women. They shall tell you. Make friends. I know at times it will not be easy but I shall do my best to make you happy.”

  “I know, I will be happy,
I have you. I am not afraid of that.”

  “Then I am content. I must go and speak to the Lieutenant Colonel. You will forgive–”

  “You do not need to ask forgiveness for fulfilling your duty, Paul.”

  His fingertips cradled her cheek as he smiled, before walking away.

  Her heart thumped steadily. The other women had not really spoken to her, she presumed because they thought she was too wellborn compared to them, but Paul’s men did not seem to judge him by his birth, and Paul had not even told anyone who she was. Yet, her voice, her posture, her clothing, made her stand apart from the other women. She was not and never would be a common soldier’s wife. She was an officer’s wife, and from a titled family. She would never quite fit in. But she longed to, she missed the company of her sisters, their hurried, whispered conversations and laughter.

  She looked back at the thin line of green and grey along the horizon, England.

  If her father knew she wished to fit in among commoners, he would send a scalding letter.

  ~

  They dined with the men and doing so gave Ellen opportunity to speak with the women who were clustered at the end of a long trestle table. Paul sat further along among his men.

  Now was her chance to try and become a part of them – accepted.

  “How do you travel with the men in general?” she asked of the woman beside her, before taking a sip of the watery broth in her bowl.

  The woman glanced at her with uncertainty; all the woman had been sitting stiffly since she’d joined them, when on deck earlier, Ellen had heard them talking easily with each other many times.

  Ellen longed to simply say, you need not be afraid of me, but that would sound crass and patronizing when she was so much younger than most of them. “I have no idea how I shall live…” Ellen added, her uncertainty and fear slipping into her voice.