“A medal?” Sebastian interrupted.
“The Victoria Cross,” said the officer, his voice hushed with awe and admiration. “It is more than a medal, Corporal.”
“Well, I’m glad for that.” Sebastian was shocked at the ease with which he found himself speaking his mind. After all, what did he have to lose? “What else does it do? Does it come with powers of resurrection, perhaps? Restoring sight to the blind?”
“I—”
“Because I don’t want a bloody medal. I want my eyes back. I want my mates back. If His Majesty can do that for me, I’ll crawl to the palace on my hands and knees if I have to. If he can’t, he can go to hell and take his medal with him.”
The silence was complete. Even Sebastian could hardly believe what he had just said. Telling the king to go to hell was probably something in the region of high treason, he thought. He might be in the interesting position of being one minute nominated for the country’s highest honor and the next being clapped in irons and shut in the Tower.
The officer broke the silence, very carefully, as one would break something of which one wished to preserve every splinter. “I understand your feelings.” His voice was soft and quiet. Sebastian was surprised—he hadn’t expected as much from him. His respect for the young officer rose somewhat. “I see it is too early, still. I shall take a lodging in the village, and hope to speak to you again in a few days, when you have had time to think.”
Sebastian sat, silently, as the man walked away. He heard him pause, close to the door. Then the sound of his voice made it clear that he had turned back.
“We have all lost people. It’s hell. There is no bringing them back. But don’t throw your life away after theirs, Corporal. If your mates were here today, I’ll bet you they would say you deserve that medal, and you should take it. Let’s get as much good out of this war as we can.”
Then he was gone, the door closing behind him.
Sebastian sat silently, wrapped in thought. The young officer was right. He recognized that. But he had lost so much. His future was so uncertain. He could not look forward until he came to terms with all he had lost.
The birds were singing, and distantly in the fields the lambs bleated. Wind rustled in the branches outside. Sebastian sat back in his chair. He could dream he was sitting here with his eyes closed, that outside, Oliver was waiting for him, that it was summer, and he was back at Somerton.
Rebecca set the teacups down by the countess’s chair, thinking as she did so that it was hardly worth her efforts to move silently and not make a sound by allowing the fine china to rattle on the saucer—not when the thump of heavy footsteps from the billiard room upstairs was so obtrusive. From the expression on the countess’s face as she glanced upward, she could tell she was thinking the same thing.
“I know it is all for the war effort, Lord Westlake,” she said to Captain Wyndham, who was sitting beside her—here yet again, Rebecca thought, in resentment—“but oh dear, it feels positively suffocating to be limited to two rooms downstairs. And wherever one goes, there is the tramp of boots, or some distressing medical smell, or a VAD lost and wandering palely about. You must admit that sharing one’s residence with two hundred soldiers is exhausting.”
“I would never seek to deny it,” Francis replied gravely. “In my view Your Ladyship’s sacrifice is nothing short of heroic.”
The countess did a good impression of blushing.
“You are generous. I only seek to do my bit, as they say.” She paused, then went on in a lower voice, “Lady Georgiana has grand ideas, but she is naïve…flighty.”
“Oh?” Captain Wyndham said warily.
“Yes, I like the girl well enough, but she is barely out of the nursery…hasn’t a serious thought in her head.”
Rebecca almost spilled the tea in her indignation. The countess went on: “Indeed, both the Averley girls have always been terribly jealous of my Charlotte. I can tell you this because you are family; I am sure you will let it go no further.”
“Miss Templeton is nursing at the front, I hear? Admirable.” She could hear in Captain Wyndham’s words that he was trying to steer a tactful middle course between the rocks of the countess’s disapproval and the whirlpool of losing his standing with Lady Georgiana.
“She was, but I have asked her to come back to Somerton. I expect her any day now. Now that we are a hospital, what need to go all the way to France to find one? I am sure you will like her very much.”
“Indeed,” said Captain Wyndham hesitantly.
Rebecca suppressed a smile. She was not unhappy with the countess’s plan, despite her annoyance at hearing Lady Georgiana slandered. The man was so clearly a fortune hunter, and Lady Georgiana was…well, not anything that the countess said, but she was inexperienced, and kindhearted. If Captain Wyndham could be distracted from his pursuit of her, so much the better.
The doorbell jangled, and the countess looked up, startled.
“Who can that be? We are not expecting anyone, are we?”
“No, my lady,” said Rebecca. “Shall I go?”
“Thomas can answer it,” replied the countess.
“I am afraid he is in Palesbury today, at the dentist.”
“Oh really! Very well, do answer it.”
Rebecca tidied her cap and apron and opened it, wondering as she did so how Thomas was getting on at his interview. It was a painful thought, and she pushed it away as quickly as she could.
A pretty, blond young lady—certainly a lady—in a dove-gray traveling suit and a black velvet hat adorned with pale pink roses, stood outside. She met Rebecca’s eyes with an easy smile, and yet Rebecca thought she looked deeply tired, and not merely from traveling.
“Good day,” she said, coming up the stairs confidently. “You must be new. Is my mother, the countess, at home?”
Rebecca took her case, but before she could reply, she heard footsteps behind her. “Charlotte!” the countess fairly gasped, and came rushing to the door. Captain Wyndham was just behind her. The countess held her arms out wide. “My dear girl, why on earth didn’t you wire?”
“Oh, Mother, how lovely! I prefer to make my own way nowadays. I have grown used to a certain amount of independence.” Charlotte allowed her mother to embrace her. When she released her, Rebecca was astonished to see tears in the countess’s eyes. Charlotte seemed equally surprised. “Poor Mother,” she said, “you have had a hard time of it.”
“Very hard.” The countess’s voice quivered, and she spoke in tones so low that Rebecca could hardly hear them. “You don’t know what it means to see one of my children safe again.”
Charlotte looked both astonished and pleased. Rebecca was touched. Her own family had been so loving and close, it was moving to see how much this little proof of the cold countess’s affection meant to her daughter. But the countess had already recovered her poise and stepped aside, revealing Captain Wyndham, who was hovering by the door.
“Well, here is someone you certainly must meet.” The countess turned with a flourish to Francis, who seemed wary but prepared to be charming. “The new Earl of Westlake. What a delightful chance that he should be visiting just as you arrive!”
Charlotte began a polite smile, but as Rebecca watched her face the smile vanished—replaced with a look of genuine and extraordinary joy. Rebecca turned instinctively, as did the countess and Francis, to see what had caught her eye. She was looking beyond them, down the corridor to where the door was open onto the ballroom ward, and some soldiers were sitting and standing around, chatting and joking. The sound of rich laughter pealed down the corridor; the scene caught Rebecca’s eye like a photograph, white and light and sunny at the end of a dark tunnel.
“Flint,” Charlotte said. “Flint!”
She raced down the hall, toward the men. The tall one—the American, with the red-gold curls and the twisted arm—turned in surprise. A moment later Charlotte was in his arms. Rebecca, caught between laughter and horror at the breach of convention, saw
their embrace and heard the American exclaiming, “Charlotte! Hey there, beautiful!” Rebecca did not dare look at the countess. The silence was as huge and frosty as an iceberg. Desperately trying not to laugh, she murmured, “Will that be all, my lady?” and dipped a curtsy.
The countess took a moment to answer. “Yes, Rebecca, you may go. And Rebecca…I shall expect you to say not a word of Miss Templeton’s disgraceful behavior below stairs.”
“Of course not, my lady.” Rebecca hurried off. The countess was safe. The only person she was likely to want to tell was Thomas—and, she remembered with a sudden pain that took all the laughter out of her, they were perhaps not on such intimate terms as she had imagined, after all.
“Is there any more news of Alexander?” said Georgiana, as she sat down at the breakfast table.
The silver and china were set out, and the crystal bowls filled with roses. Rebecca made a point of creating a little oasis for the family every morning, away from the bustle of the hospital. Georgiana appreciated it.
Rose sighed. “The hope of leave is still there, but there are no fixed dates yet. And the army are very cagey about where their forces are concentrated—it is a security risk, of course, but it is so hard not to even know where he is. He writes very reassuringly, but I know that he would do that anyway, to spare me. I feel that all the real truth is hidden by the censor’s pen.”
“Oh, Rose.” Georgiana placed a hand on her sister’s. “How I wish I could do something to help.”
“It is enough simply being here,” Rose replied warmly. “I wondered if I was wrong to leave Alexander, even though he was adamant that I should take Edward to safety, but I think I made the right decision. I want Edward to know Somerton, so much. It was my home, and I want him to love it as I do, as we all do.”
Georgiana was about to reply, but she looked up to see Captain Wyndham entering the breakfast room. She removed her hand from Rose’s, feeling awkward, as if she had been caught talking about Captain Wyndham behind his back.
“Good morning,” he greeted them. He seemed in good spirits, but his smile to Rose was forced. Georgiana, searching for a subject to change the conversation to, said, “Has anyone seen Charlotte? I hoped she would be down for breakfast.”
Rose made an expressive face. “She is still in disgrace. I think the countess is keeping her upstairs for a stern talking-to.”
“I think she is quite right to do so,” Captain Wyndham said, as he buttered his toast. “Of course, her nursing is admirable, but perhaps it has encouraged her to become a little too, shall we say, informal in her relations with the other sex. Men don’t like such behavior, you know. They may encourage it in a girl, but they will never marry where respect is lost.”
Georgiana looked at him in surprise. She was sorry to notice that she felt distinctly less liking for him after his little speech. Rose caught her glance and hid a smile behind a raised teacup.
“I do not know what men in general may feel,” Georgiana said, “but I thought he seemed delighted to see her. I don’t see why he shouldn’t marry her. Of course the countess will not approve of it, but if he has his own means—”
“A very big if,” Captain Wyndham said, with a tone that was close to a sneer. “I understand the man is a penniless cowboy. I suppose since she has the manners of a cowgirl, they may suit.”
Georgiana blushed with annoyance. “I’d be glad if you would not speak about my sister that way.”
“I beg your pardon.” Captain Wyndham looked startled. “I understood you were not on the best of terms.”
“We have not been,” Georgiana said as politely as she could, “but we hope to be on better terms—and besides, I don’t want to hear her maligned for something as innocent as falling in love and having the heart to show it.”
“No, of course. You misunderstood me. I—”
“Kearney is free!” Rose exclaimed. She was still holding the newspaper, and she looked up over it, eyes wide.
“Free!” Georgiana exclaimed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, it says so here. He was cleared of all charges.”
“How dreadful!” Captain Wyndham leapt into the conversation, trying to echo the tone of their voices. “I find it quite incredible that this government is prepared to allow a known firebrand like that to go free.”
There was an awkward silence. Georgiana could not find words to express her indignation. Clearly, he had mistaken their excitement for shocked disapproval. Finally, she managed to say, as calmly as possible: “Captain Wyndham, as it happens, my sister, Lady Ada, has been instrumental in the legal defense of Mr. Kearney. I understand you do not approve?”
Captain Wyndham looked completely crushed. Georgiana was not happy. She hated losing her temper, and hated losing respect for anyone. Luckily, at that moment a voice said, “Good morning, everyone,” and all looked up as Charlotte entered the room. She was dressed in her VAD uniform.
“Charlotte!” Rose exclaimed. “I thought the countess had ordered you to stay upstairs.”
“Oh, she did,” Charlotte said, smilingly taking an apple from the sideboard and sitting down to the table. She sliced it delicately into pieces. “But I feel that it is my duty to continue to help while I am here. After all, that is what she called me home for. So I shall begin this morning.”
Georgiana and Rose exchanged a glance. Charlotte had certainly been changed by her time abroad—and for the better.
Rebecca stifled a yawn as she reached up to lock and bolt the back door. Outside, the night was black as velvet. Upstairs, she could still hear the floorboards creak as restless patients stirred. There was no silence in the house anymore, she thought. Before, it had seemed full enough, with staff and when the family were all at home, but now there wasn’t a still moment. There was no ignoring the war anymore, no hoping it would go away. The war was here, all around them, in these missing limbs, in these ruined faces and broken minds. She pushed the sad thoughts away. At least the kitchen was spotless; everything was running well. She went to the door, pausing only to tidy away an apron that one of the maids had left on the table.
“Rebecca, could I speak to you before you go up?”
It was Thomas’s voice. Rebecca could see him, sitting by the light of a single gas lamp, in his pantry. Her heart skipped a beat. He had said nothing about the interview; there had been far too much for them to do, on his return, for her to find a moment to ask him how it had gone. Besides, she thought, crossing the corridor to him, she was not sure she wanted to know. She wanted him to get it, of course—but she didn’t want what it would mean, him leaving Somerton.
“Please sit down.” He got to his feet as she entered, and drew out a chair for her. Rebecca sat, aware that he seemed both nervous and excited.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I wanted to tell you.” He drew his chair close to her, and said in a low voice, “I got the job.”
“Oh!” Rebecca didn’t know whether the exclamation was of joy or pain. “I—I congratulate you.”
“I can’t leave until they’ve found a replacement, of course. I’ve told them that. But it’s a dream come true.”
“I am so happy for you.” Rebecca spoke fiercely, angry with herself for not being more certain that she was pleased for him. Thomas deserved everything good, of course he did, and if he didn’t love her back—well, you couldn’t force love. That, at least, was how she knew she had to think. “We will miss you very much here at Somerton, but I’m sure—”
“Wait,” he interrupted her. He reached out and took her hand. Rebecca was startled. He pressed her hand, looked into her eyes. “I hadn’t finished.”
Rebecca was silent, wondering what he could be going to say.
“I don’t want you to miss me. Indeed, I don’t want to be apart from you. The job pays enough to support both of us. Will you marry me, Rebecca? Will you come with me?”
Rebecca was silent, in shock. He hurried on.
“I know this may come as a surprise
. I’m not one to speak my feelings, and I know we—I know we’ve always had a very professional relationship, but I do feel that there’s something there between us. Well, there is for me. I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, the most intelligent, and the kindest. I wouldn’t be happy without you, and that’s a fact. And I…I’ve sometimes thought that you might like me too.” He hesitated. “Am I wrong?”
Rebecca still couldn’t find the breath to reply. Tears were running down her cheeks.
“I’m wrong, aren’t I?” Thomas’s voice was loaded with disappointment. He sat back, relaxing his grip on her hand. Rebecca, startled into action, caught his hand again.
“No. Oh no! You’re not wrong,” she sobbed.
Thomas looked at her in astonishment, and then pulled her toward him and kissed her. Rebecca tasted tears as they kissed. She could not stop crying.
“So it’s a yes, then,” he said finally, releasing her.
She shook her head. She was still crying, but now it was not from joy. “Mr. Wright. Thomas. I do love you. I want to marry you. But I can’t leave Somerton. Not now.”
“Not leave Somerton? But—”
“It’s not that I care for you less than I care for this house. I don’t. But all my life, I’ve wanted to do work that I’m good at. I know I’m good at this, and I love it here, what’s more. I’ll never find a job I love so much if I look all over the world. I don’t want to be just someone’s wife, even if I get to live in more comfort. I want to do what I’m good at. I’m so happy here, you see. I am sorry. I don’t suppose you understand, but I can’t marry you if it means leaving Somerton.”
“I do understand,” he said after a long pause. “I do. It’s only what I feel myself, after all.”
“I am sorry.” She dried her tears. “I can hardly believe I’m saying this, doing this—throwing such a good man away.” She almost started crying again at the thought of it.
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