“Dry your eyes,” he said gently. He reached up and touched her tears away. “It’s not the right time, is it?”
She shook her head.
“Well, one day it will be. That’s what I believe. I’ll wait for you, Rebecca. I may be on the other side of the world, but I’ll wait for you—if you’ll wait for me.”
“Of course I will,” said Rebecca. This time there were no tears as they moved together to kiss.
Sebastian lay in bed, propped up on pillows. The morphine always wore off early and left him to wake in pain. The thoughts that accompanied his waking were even more painful.
There was a gentle knock at the door. That would be the nurse, come to change his bandages. Sebastian hated this part of the day. In the silence of the nurses he always suspected disgust. He was too proud to ask if he was disfigured. He didn’t want them to think he cared. He wished the woman would go away, but he knew that if he did not answer, she would think he was seriously ill and come in anyway.
“Come in,” he said heavily.
The door opened, and he heard her coming across the room toward him.
“Good morning,” she said. There was the sound of curtains opening, and white light flooded his vision. He turned away from it. “I have come to change your bandages.”
Sebastian did not reply. Her voice reminded him distressingly of Charlotte’s. So much here was like Somerton, as a church bell’s echo might remind him of the bells near where he was born. But it was a more pleasant voice than Charlotte’s, he thought. It did not sound as bitter and sarcastic as hers always did.
“Would you like to get up?”
“Into that bloody chair? No thanks.”
“I thought you might like to walk around.”
He laughed. “I expect they value their ornaments too much for that.”
There was a confused silence in response. He was sure she was staring at him; he almost felt the weight of it.
“Have we…” The girl seemed to shrug off her confusion. “Never mind. I have a cane for you, and it would be good for you to begin learning your way around.” When he did not answer, she went on. “You will not always be so immobile. In time, some sight may even return.”
This was the first time that Sebastian had heard this. He did not reply. He did not want the hope she offered. But he did sit up, and swing his legs so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He heard the nurse preparing the bandages and the swabs. A moment later, her gentle fingers began unwrapping the bandages.
“I understand you have been awarded the Victoria Cross,” she said as she worked. “I congratulate you.”
Sebastian did not reply.
“It’s hell out there. I know. But you made it back.” Her voice was soft and soothing. And he had a strange feeling of deja vu, as the nurse gently continued unwrapping the bandages, peeling them away so the light grew stronger and stronger…
The last ribbon of bandage fell away. There was a split second of silence, and then she gasped.
“Is it that bad?” Sebastian said savagely. He hated her for showing her shock and horror. None of the other nurses had done that.
He heard her breathing, ragged, and a black pit of fear sank inside him. It was worse than he had thought. So there was no hope with Oliver; he could not ask him to come back to someone who was helpless and hideous to boot—
“Sebastian,” she whispered.
His name ran through him like a sword.
“Sebastian. It’s me. Charlotte. Your sister.”
“Charlotte? But how—” Sebastian was thunderstruck. Charlotte nursing?
“You’re at Somerton,” she went on. “Did you not know?”
“Somerton!”
“They converted it into the hospital. The earl is dead. Oh, Sebastian! How could this happen? Mother, she thinks you’re dead. She—”
Sebastian reached out, fast as lightning, and grasped her wrist, guessing where it would be and guessing right. He heard her gasp again, this time in pain. His mind whirled; of all the luck, to end up at Somerton! The one place where people would recognize him.
“Tell no one,” he managed. “I don’t want anyone to know.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to be anyone’s burden! I don’t want the pity. I just want to disappear. Charlotte, promise me.”
“Sebastian—”
“Promise me!”
“Sebastian, Mother loves you. I love you. You can’t ask me to keep this a secret. You can’t. You are wrong about this. Please believe me.”
“If you love me, you’ll do what I tell you. Promise!”
“I—very well, I promise!”
He heard a sob in her voice and released her wrist. “Now put the bandages back on,” he said quietly.
He sat in silence as she bandaged him once again, her hands trembling. He felt her tears falling on his skin. Inside him was a whirlwind. He did not want anyone from the old days to see him like this, did not want to be a burden, did not want to spend his life being wheeled here and there. And yet the thought of his mother’s feelings…She did love him. He knew it was the truth.
Finally the bandaging was done. Charlotte straightened up. “Our mother thinks she has lost you, and it has broken her heart,” she said. “Please, Sebastian, I beg you to change your mind.”
He did not reply. After a long time she turned and went out. He heard the door close behind her and was alone again.
The motorcar glided down the long drive Somerton. Ada looked out at the trees that lined the path, the sweeping green lawns, the distant hills dotted with sheep. Opposite her sat Connor Kearney and Mr. Bradford. In her hand she held a large envelope. It was strange to think that what was in the envelope would determine the fate of this great house they were approaching. She felt triumph, but it was not a pleasant feeling. She would rather not have had this journey to make. As dearly as she loved Somerton, she had begun to feel that for her, it meant the past. She would spend the summer at Somerton, but she would always feel that her life was elsewhere, and until she could have the independence that Hannah had, she knew she would not be satisfied.
“You have been to Somerton before, Mr. Kearney?” Mr. Bradford spoke to him over the noise of the engine. He had been very deferential to Connor—almost awestruck, Ada thought with amusement. The man’s reputation preceded him.
“Once only. It is a beautiful place,” Connor replied. “I’m sorry that I am not returning for a more pleasant reason.”
Ada smiled at him teasingly. “Liar,” she murmured.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Ada,” Mr. Bradford said, sounding shocked.
“Indeed he is. Mr. Kearney loves a confrontation, don’t you? I expect you have been looking forward to this for days.”
Connor’s amused glance told her she was right. The chauffeur drew the motorcar up in front of the grand entrance, and Thomas, smiling, came down to open the door for them.
“Good morning, my lady. Welcome home,” he greeted her as she stepped out.
“Thank you,” Ada murmured. Sudden memories of being here with Ravi caught her heart. Gathering her composure, she walked up the wide stone steps and into the house.
“Ada!” Everything else was forgotten as she heard Rose’s voice. She looked up to see her on the landing, framed by the shining window, as beautiful as ever, beaming with joy and holding a bundle wrapped in a white lace blanket.
“Rose!” Ada ran up the stairs and into her sister’s arms. She came to a halt, speechless with delight and admiration as she saw the little face and fists poking up from the blanket at her. “Oh, Rose, he’s perfect! He has Alexander’s eyes, I can see them at once—and isn’t that the perfect grip to hold a paintbrush with?” She kissed Rose on the cheek. “I can see we have so much to talk about. Well, I shall be here for the summer, so there is plenty of time.”
“I am so happy to see you!” The tears in Rose’s eyes underlined her words. She walked downstairs with Ada by her side. “Come in here—it is the
last drawing room left to us. The soldiers have occupied everything else.”
“May I present Mr. Kearney,” Ada said quickly, “and of course you know Mr. Bradford.” She almost wished both men were not there; all she wanted was to hear Rose’s story. Georgiana had given her the outline of it, but she longed to hear it from Rose’s own lips.
Rose smiled at both the men. She took a seat on the sofa and Ada sat down beside her, cooing over baby Edward in delight. “My first nephew! I promise to spoil you beyond belief,” she said to him. “But tell me Rose, when will we see Alexander?”
“Soon, I hope.” Rose’s face showed her emotion. “I have just heard that he has finally been granted home leave. He should be here in late July, though the transport makes so much unsure.”
“What a blessed relief!” Ada took Rose’s hand. “Oh, you must have gone through so much. And with a baby!”
“I could not have done it without Noor,” said Rose. “She is my maid; I engaged her in Cairo. She discovered I was to have a baby before I even knew it myself. Once I knew that, I felt I could not leave Alexander, that I was not prepared to risk that he should die without seeing his child.” Her voice trembled. “So when he was dispatched, I used all my influence to make the general bring us along too. Luckily he was a keen amateur musician and he had heard some of my compositions, so he was sympathetic. I am glad I did not know the hardship we should go through, or I might not have dared to undertake the journey. And I am so glad that I did, because now at least I know that Alexander has seen his little boy.” She stopped talking, clearly close to tears. Ada pressed her hands; there were no words that could express her feelings. She knew what risks Alexander faced. It was impossible to ignore the facts: young men were dying in the hundreds every day.
“Your courage is formidable,” said Connor, his serious gaze on Rose. “But how did you make your way home?”
“Once Edward was born, Alexander became very concerned for his safety. There was a passage on a boat that could take us to Italy. Alexander begged me to go. So to oblige him, I took it. But the ship was torpedoed and we were shipwrecked—”
“Oh, Rose!” Ada exclaimed. Rose paused only briefly before going on, with just the merest tremble in her voice.
“We were lucky to be rescued by a British vessel. The captain was heading to the Eastern Mediterranean but took an interest in us and helped us get ashore at Spain, which is neutral, of course—and then we traveled overland. Luckily, Noor speaks some Spanish, and we were able to get to the British ambassador’s residence, and he arranged travel for us to England.” She fell silent, clearly exhausted by the memory.
“My poor Rose.” Ada embraced her. “I am almost relieved we did not know at the time what was happening; I would have been petrified with fear.”
Rose smiled wanly. “I am glad, in a way, that I have experienced it. I feel I know better what the people displaced by this war are suffering. And we were as close to Alexander as we possibly could be, for as long as possible, and I am…I am grateful for that.”
“Oh, Rose.” Ada pressed her hand again, wanting to say that she was sure he would be safe. But she knew that nothing was guaranteed.
She heard running footsteps coming closer, along the corridor. She looked up, and Georgiana burst into the room, followed by Michael.
“Ada!” Georgiana came to kneel by her. “What a pleasure to see you, and to know we have you for some time. Your room is all prepared. And Mr. Kearney—my sincere congratulations on your victory. Michael, be a dear and ring for some tea, will you?”
“Michael,” said Ada, remembering what she was here for, “will you ask your mother to come also? And Captain Wyndham. I presume he is visiting?” She glanced at Connor, who agreed with a slight nod.
“Is this about the will?” Rose looked up, wide-eyed. “I was sorry to hear that it had caused tension. I have been so concerned with little Edward, and with writing to Alexander, that I have not really been following—” She broke off as Rebecca entered.
“Rebecca, please ask the countess and Captain Wyndham to come here,” Michael told her. After she had gone, he turned back to Ada. “So you have found something out, Ada? What is it?”
“I would rather not say until Captain Wyndham has a chance to answer me face to face,” Ada replied. She glanced at Georgiana, whose expression was hard to read. She looked pained and concerned, but softhearted Georgiana would feel the same for anyone, Ada thought, who was in trouble. It did not mean she had lost her heart.
She looked up as she heard the countess’s authoritative tread coming down the corridor. Everyone was silent as Rebecca opened the door for her and, with a quick curtsy, backed out again.
“What is the urgency?” The countess looked around. “Goodness, I see everyone is assembled.” She looked at Connor and raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Directly from the Old Bailey, Mr. Kearney?”
“And most refreshed by the experience, thank you for asking, Lady Westlake,” Connor said with a grin. The countess pursed her lips.
Ada noticed a shadow at the door and looked up. Francis Wyndham stood there. There was a sullen expression on his face. At last we are seeing the truth, thought Ada.
“Captain Wyndham, please do come in, and close the door if you would be so good,” she said pleasantly. “May I present Mr. Connor Kearney.”
Captain Wyndham hesitated, and then did as she had said. He was clearly reluctant to be there. He gave Connor the briefest of unsmiling nods.
Ada cleared her throat and got to her feet. The folder was still in her hands; she held it carefully. She did not have a courtroom, but she would make the most of the drawing room at her disposal.
“Captain Wyndham,” she said, with her most pleasant smile, “I fear you have not told us the whole truth.”
Charlotte gently removed the last bandage from Sebastian’s eyes. The room was quite silent, only the drip of water into the basin as she wrung out the cloth. The light came through the windows, and the muslin curtains stirred in the summer breeze. It was so pure white that it seemed blinding.
Carefully she cleaned his eyes. The blue was clouded, the skin around the eyes reddened and puckered here and there with scarring. Sometimes cases of gas blindness regained their sight. Charlotte knew that was true. But she also knew it was nothing to count on.
Sebastian was still as a statue, gazing sightlessly ahead of him. He did not flinch when she wiped his eyes. At least, she thought, he could go without the bandages now. The cane that the officer had brought still leaned by the door, untouched.
“There,” she said quietly. She got to her feet and went to the door and opened it.
Flint was outside, just as she had asked him to be.
“Is he here?” she whispered. She was shaking. Was she doing the right thing? Would this end well or not?
“I’m here,” said a voice from the shadows. Oliver stepped forward. He looked different in uniform. Older, more serious.
Flint pulled him forward. “Go on in, pal,” he whispered.
Oliver hung back. “Miss Templeton, I still don’t know why I’m here—”
“Go in!” Charlotte pushed him through the door and shut it behind him. She looked at Flint wordlessly. Flint caught her hands and held them comfortingly.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he murmured.
“What if it goes horribly wrong? What if…” Charlotte murmured as he led her down the corridor, toward the garden room.
“Then you’ve done your best, and you can’t do any more.”
“But was I right to telegraph him? Do you think I was right?”
“Yes, I do.” Flint put an arm around her and turned her to face him. “Charlotte—Nurse Templeton—you’re always right. That’s one of the things I like about you.”
“Not always.” Charlotte smiled, remembering some of the many times she had not been right.
“Well, you are when you’re listening to your heart, and that’s what counts.” His smile lit his eyes.
Charlotte couldn’t help smiling back.
“Listen, I think I owe you an explanation,” Flint went on, seriously. “You must be wondering why I haven’t come up to scratch. I mean, why I haven’t asked for your hand.”
“I…” Charlotte realized that she had been wondering no such thing. She had expected that he would propose, certainly. But she had not been wondering why he had not. She had not had time.
“It’s unforgivable of me, I know. I’m not one of your English gentlemen, but I hope I am a gentleman where it counts, and I know I should have said something by now. The thing is,” he sounded embarrassed, “I didn’t expect to find you living here. I suppose I should have known you were from an upper-class family, but accents and so on don’t mean much to an American, I’m afraid.”
“That’s not important,” said Charlotte, and was surprised to find she meant it.
“It took me so long to write because I was ashamed—hell, ashamed is the wrong word—but I didn’t like to think you’d see my writing and see what an uneducated man I am. I do some things well in this world, but composing a letter ain’t one of them. That’s not the kind of schooling I’ve had.”
“I—”
“The truth is, I don’t see how I can ask you to marry me. Not looking around at this place, not seeing how you live. I have nothing to offer you, just a life that’s harder than any you’ve lived before.”
“Harder than on the front?”
“In some ways, yes. Poverty is different than war.”
“But you won’t be poor. You’re drawing a captain’s pay.”
“And what’s that compared to what you’re used to?”
“Flint, I have plenty of money!”
“That’s exactly it. I don’t want to be seen as some kind of fortune hunter. I can’t ask you to marry me until I have something to offer you that’s as good as what you’re used to!”
“So I should wait until you have risen to brigadier general in command of the Royal Flying Corps?” Charlotte could hardly stop herself from smiling. “If the war lasts long enough, I quite believe you could do it.”
Emeralds & Ashes Page 27
