Georgiana caught his sleeve. “Do think over what I’ve said. You can persuade your mother, I know.”
“I’ll do my very best.”
He walked out after Rebecca. Georgiana, left alone, looked around the ballroom, the shrouded chandeliers that had once blazed with light, the dull floor that had once been waxed to a sheen, the silent, mournful piano. It was so empty. She hadn’t danced here since her father’s wedding to the countess—it seemed so long ago. Every day, she woke and saw her mourning clothes laid out for her. The funeral was over; now there was nothing to aim for, just a long sad future. She knew that her father would never have wanted her to be depressed like this. He wanted things to be done; he wanted to improve things for people. If she could only make the dream of the hospital come true, it would be what he had wanted.
“Some bad news, I’m afraid.”
She turned with a start. Michael was back, frowning as he walked into the room.
“What is it?”
“A letter has come to Mr. Bradford’s offices. It is from William—well, from his solicitor. A well-known London firm, the one that secured the settlement in the Cumberland divorce case.”
“And?” Georgiana asked, suddenly feeling afraid.
“He is challenging the will.”
“But on what basis? How dare he?”
“Simply put—I don’t pretend to understand all of it—he argues that he needs an income to keep up the dignity of the title. He can call on precedent. He argues that it would be unfitting and contrary to the spirit of your father’s will to leave him without an income.”
“So it’s money he wants?”
“It appears so, yes.”
“Oh, the monster!” Georgiana turned away, unable to hide her contempt and fear. “But do you think he will succeed?”
Michael shook his head. “I can’t say. All I know is that Mr. Bradford said that we must take it seriously. I am sorry, Georgie. I wish I had better news.”
Georgiana looked around the beautiful ballroom. It felt suddenly as if her dreams had been dirtied. “It can’t happen,” she said. She made up her mind. Whatever her differences with Ada, that all had to be put aside now that so much was at stake. “We must write to Ada. She may have some idea of what to do.”
France
Of all the day, Charlotte thought, this time—the hour just before dawn, when the darkness seemed for the first time to promise to become lighter—was her favorite. Even the worst of the men had fallen into some kind of exhausted sleep, and although she was tired, she savored the moments of calm and quiet, knowing her shift would be over in just a couple of hours. She even had leave coming up—a whole two days, at St. Malo.
She walked noiselessly up the ward, checking the men one by one, with a glance.
Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and the first gray stirring of light was enough for her to know what they required. She could tell just by listening which men were breathing with difficulty, which were awake and perhaps thirsty.
To left and right men lay, sleeping, breathing through nose or mouth, some groaning or whimpering in their sleep. If my mother could see me now! she thought, and smiled. She had never been allowed to enter a man’s bedroom before; now here she was surrounded by twenty of them. Of course, her mother thought nursing a very indelicate profession. If only she knew the truth: romance was very far from Charlotte’s mind.…She quickly dismissed any rebellious feelings that tried to suggest that that might not be the entire truth.
She paused by Private Trent’s bed. She always liked to check him first; the poor boy was so piteously wounded. His whole face was still swathed with bandages. She knew he must be going through terrible pain, but he never showed it. He reminded her of Michael: his build was the same, the fresh pinkness of his unburned skin, too—though what lay beneath the bandages that swathed his face she did not dare to, could not bear to, think. He’d hung on to life for so long, and he could hang on longer, but what about when he got back? she wondered, looking down at him. Left like that, at eighteen, perhaps younger. It was cruel.
She bent down to check his breathing. The dark hole in the mask was silent. She listened for the feeble rasp of breath. It didn’t come. Charlotte’s own breathing snagged, as if on barbed wire. She stood looking down on him, willing herself not to give in to tears. She took his wrist, but even before she felt for the pulse, the coldness of it told her what she already knew. There were not even any eyes to close.
A movement in the bed next to her made her start. Flint turned toward her, his hair tousled, blinking in the new light. He raised himself on his good elbow and looked at her, then at Private Trent. A second later he had swung himself upright and was standing by her side, his arm around her. Neither of them spoke. Charlotte let her cheek rest on his shoulder. She could feel tears running down her face, soaking into his pajamas. She’d blame herself for her unprofessionalism later, she told herself. For now, it was simply comforting not to be alone—to be with him.
“I’ll write to his next of kin,” said Flint softly. “Save you a job, Nurse.”
“That’s good of you,” Charlotte managed. She would have to put together Trent’s few possessions: his bloodstained uniform, his revolver, his kit bag. There would be paperwork. “Poor Trent. I wonder if he had family.”
“He had a girl,” he replied. “He asked me to write to her too. I think he knew he didn’t have long.”
Later that day, they buried him. The chaplain read a hurried service. Charlotte stood there in her best uniform, her eyes down, as the earth rattled onto the coffin. Distantly the guns kept booming. Opposite her, Flint stood. He seemed ill at ease, and she knew it was that he disliked to stand still. Every time she saw him he was in action, laughing, joking, alive and vivid. He was so different from every man she had ever met—especially from cool, suave Laurence—and yet he was fascinating. He made her laugh, and she had never known how important that was until now, when laughter was in such short supply, and sometimes the only thing that kept them going.
The war has changed me, she thought. Only now was she beginning to realize how much.
After the funeral, they walked back together, behind the chaplain. In the thornbushes, blackbirds sang. “I like to hear the birds,” he said. “They’re like stubborn civilians who won’t leave their homes. I admire their courage.”
“Are there blackbirds where you come from—in your hometown?”
“I don’t come from a town. I come from the middle of nowhere—a ranch in Texas. There are eagles.”
“Of course,” Charlotte murmured. Eagles were exactly what she would have associated him with. He didn’t strike her as a man who could be easily tamed. But then who would want to tame a man, when wilderness was so much more interesting? “However did you end up here, in this war, really?”
“Well, ma’am, we fell on hard times—to tell the truth, it was my father that lost the fortune in Flagstaff. The fortune, and the ranch. Left me nothing but a few worthless shares in an emerald mine.”
“Shares in an emerald mine sound hardly worthless!” Charlotte exclaimed.
He grinned at her. “Only worth something if there are emeralds in the mine…and I fear there weren’t in this one.”
“I see.”
“All the horses were sold. So I had to find something else. I found flying.”
Charlotte smiled, hearing the love in his voice. “I can tell you don’t regret the horses.”
“Ma’am, a horse is a horse, but up there…” He gestured to the sky: it was blue and birds wheeled in it. “Well, there’s nothing like it, being so close to heaven. I love it—and I’m good at it too.”
Charlotte smiled again. He was certainly more blunt than the men she’d met before, but she was beginning to see that he wasn’t boastful—just honest. There was something refreshing, she thought, about a man you could trust to tell you the truth when it really mattered.
“I joined an aerobatic show. That bit was true enough. We came
across to England as part of Wild Bill’s circus, then set out on our own. We were performing in London, giving duchesses thrills by looping the loop over Buckingham Palace, when war broke out.”
“And a general specially requested you be brought in to stop it.”
He laughed.
“I just told the men that for a joke—they were so thrilled to meet one of these mythical beasts called Americans, I thought I’d give them a story to fit. No, the truth is I thought, well, I can’t miss an opportunity like that, and besides, I’m the best damn pilot they’ll ever see; they need me. So here I am. And I just can’t wait to be back in the sky.”
“I can understand that,” Charlotte said with a small sigh. “It must be wonderful to feel so free.”
He turned to her with a bright smile. “I’ll take you up as soon as I can, if you’ll let me.”
“Will you really?” Charlotte was suddenly breathless with excitement.
“Ma’am, it’ll be an honor.”
“But isn’t it quite dangerous?” Charlotte lowered her lashes and glanced at him, wondering how he would react to such obvious flirtation. Laurence would have smoothly promised to protect her against anything—and then forgotten all about the promise.
“Only if you don’t know what you’re doing—and I know what I’m doing. Besides, ma’am, I suspect you’re being coy with me. You strike me as the kind of girl who ain’t scared of a thing.”
Charlotte laughed outright at the way he’d so quickly seen through her. They were coming up to the ward. Charlotte sped up her pace. “Then as soon as I’m back from leave,” she tossed over her shoulder, “I’ll hold you to that promise.”
London
“I am flattered that you chose to confide in me, Lady Ada,” said Connor Kearney, as they walked across sunny Norwood Square. “Rest assured that I will do everything I can to help.”
“I know I can trust you,” Ada replied.
It had not taken her long to decide to take him into her confidence, once she had heard from Mr. Bradford what the situation was. She had not expected him to be so ready to offer personal help, and the fact that he knew Hannah Darford had come as a surprise—it appeared that he often engaged her to work for him, since Oxford would not award degrees to women and therefore she could not represent clients in court herself. But he had at once recommended Hannah as a specialist in inheritance law.
“I enjoy any legal challenge, but it is not my primary field,” he had told her. “Miss Darford will be the best person for us to apply to, especially as you have prior acquaintance.”
That was why they were here—to visit her at her office, at Number Twelve Norwood Square, newly acquired since Ada had visited Hannah before going up to Oxford. She remembered that Hannah had spoken of wanting to get a residence of her own, to replace the rooms she was renting.
It seemed a pleasant place, Ada thought, glancing around her. Certainly, it was not Mayfair. The countess would have called it decidedly middle-class. But it was light and airy, and the plane trees and cherry trees that lined the small central park waved their leaves in the breeze and gave shade to nursemaids and babies. A few motorcars were parked by the side of the road, showing that it was certainly a respectable address. The kind of place where she and Ravi could have been happy together, had he stayed. She winced at the sudden pain. She was almost glad that William was making trouble; it helped to have something to concentrate on, to take her mind from it. That, and she had begun to study, almost ferociously, for her examinations. Filling her head with Latin and Greek drove Ravi out of it at least until the night, when she lay down to sleep. That was when she could not hold back the tears.
“You seem interested in the area,” Kearney said with a glance toward her.
“I am, frankly, curious,” said Ada, calling up a responsive smile. She paused to collect her emotions, then went on, as gaily as she could, with half the truth. “I admire Hannah Darford so much; what she has achieved is extraordinary. It seems that even her house must be special somehow.” She looked up at the town house. It certainly did not look special—a wisteria and a couple of faded geraniums in a pot were the only things that stood out.
“Only in that it is her own, outright—not her husband’s.” Kearney rang the bell.
“Is she married, then?” Ada looked at him in surprise. “I had not heard.”
“No, excuse me—I should have said a husband’s. She is not married.”
“It doesn’t surprise me,” said Ada with a sigh.
“No?”
“No. Love doesn’t seem to fit with liberation—not happily, anyway.”
She was glad that the door opened and Connor could not follow his inquiring look with a question. She had expected a maid, but at once realized that the lady in the old-fashioned long skirt and tie—very 1910—and pince-nez was no such thing. The severe expression on her face softened at once into a smile as she saw Connor. “Oh, Mr. Kearney! Do come in. Miss Darford is expecting you.”
“Thank you.” Connor stepped after her, over the threshold. “Lady Ada, may I introduce Miss Evesham. Miss Evesham is Miss Darford’s secretary.”
Ada exchanged greetings and they followed Miss Evesham into the house. It was clearly set up as an office, but the feminine decor struck Ada at once. In contrast with Mr. Bradford’s offices, the house was painted in soft, light shades, modern paintings hung on the walls, and elegant flower arrangements were laid out on almost every surface. Bright light poured through large windows, and artfully placed mirrors and crystal reflected it. And yet there were several serious-looking filing cabinets and a substantial desk in the Directoire style. It was feminine without being frivolous.
“How delightfully modern!” Ada exclaimed.
“Isn’t it? I admire her taste.” Kearney looked around with obvious pleasure.
“A place like this—so clearly a woman’s office—makes me feel that we have won the battle already.” Ada smiled. “Sadly, that’s a dream.”
“But not a dream for too long, I hope.” Hannah Darford, quick and businesslike and smiling as always, came through the door toward them. She shook hands with both Connor and Ada, firmly. “Lady Ada, I condole with you on your loss. It is a terrible thing.”
“Thank you,” said Ada quietly. Most people had already given their condolences, in person or on black-edged cards. But now and then she met someone who had not, and it seemed to rip open the wound again. She knew that Connor was looking at her, concerned.
They sat down, and Hannah Darford glanced at them questioningly. “I understand that this is a matter of inheritance, pertaining to the late earl’s will?”
“Yes,” Ada said. “It’s a worrying matter. My cousin William—he is now the Earl of Westlake, but a horrible wretch—is challenging my father’s will. He asserts that he should be entitled to income from the property. I have his letter here.”
She handed it over, nervous about what Hannah would say. As she read it, Ada couldn’t help watching her face, anxious to see what her judgment would be. Hannah took her time, but finally she said, “Humph!” and placed the letter back on the table.
“Well, Miss Darford?” Kearney said.
“He has no chance of success,” Hannah replied.
“Exactly what I thought,” Kearney said.
Ada, full of relief, looked from one to the other. Kearney was not smiling; he looked thoughtful. Hannah was frowning.
“And…there is more, isn’t there?” Ada said. “I can tell it is not that simple.”
“I expect he had no thought of success,” Hannah replied. “The precedents he cites are weak. The man is a gambler, is he not? Yes, I can see from your expression that he is.” She looked at Kearney and they both smiled.
“It’s a gambler’s move,” Kearney said. “He gambles that you may be frightened by the letter, frightened enough to simply give him money, in order to persuade him not to pursue the house and land—your home. I expect that if you fail to be frightened, he will turn to his n
ext move, which is to embarrass your family as deeply as possible, in revenge. Your sister Georgiana is not yet married either, is she? It could be very unpleasant for you all if he has nothing to lose, and goes about sullying the Averley name. A man who has no reputation of his own to lose will have no reason not to lie and spread rumors to destroy the reputations of others.”
“He means to blackmail us,” Ada said. She was shocked, and she had thought nothing could shock her. She felt herself trembling with rage on Georgiana’s behalf.
“He does,” Hannah said. “There is nothing more dangerous than a man who has nothing to lose.”
“So, we give him something to lose,” Kearney said.
“But what?” Ada looked into their faces and guessed the answer. “Money. You mean that we offer him money, in return for a pledge—”
“A legally binding pledge,” said Kearney, nodding along.
“—not to speak of the matter again?”
“Yes. Our response is to ask him to cease all threats and blackmail, to give up any claim on the income, and in return, we offer him…oh, say, three thousand pounds?” Kearney raised an eyebrow at Hannah, who nodded and shrugged.
“Three thousand pounds!” Ada was almost breathless. “But where are we to find such a sum?”
Kearney and Hannah looked at each other, then at her.
“My dear, did you not understand the terms of your father’s will?” Kearney said, sounding for a moment very Irish indeed. “I am surprised at you!” He smiled. “You are a rich woman. Your father has left you and your sisters the sum of his account at Coutts. I expect you will be able to cover it and still have plenty left over.”
“I must confess, I had not thought of it. I have received letters from the bank asking me to send them my instructions, but it seemed so unimportant compared to everything else…” Ada trailed off. She was not used to thinking of herself as rich, but she guessed that since Alexander had cleared the family’s debts on his marriage to Rose, her father had been careful to arrange his rescued investments with more foresight than previously.
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