The Golden Songbird

by Sheila Walsh

  ‘I’m sorry you found me so … unapproachable.’

  ‘Oh no! I daresay I was just being a coward.’

  Much later, when Lucia had been lulled to sleep by the swaying of the coach, Hugo lay back watching her. Her bonnet lay discarded at her side and now and again a shaft of sunlight would catch at the hair clinging damply to her brow and light up the shining tips of the long golden lashes curving on her cheek.

  A feeling of excitement was beginning to grow in him, as though he were discovering her for the very first time. This warm-hearted slender girl, who at times infuriated him almost beyond endurance, was his! Oh, why had he not had the wit to realize it from the first!

  His thoughts were rudely shattered as the coach lurched to a halt. Looking out Hugo saw they had arrived. Reluctantly his mind switched back to the business in hand, but he resolved to speak to Lucia at the first opportunity.

  She opened sleepy eyes. ‘Are we there?’

  Hugo nodded. He leaned out and spoke to the sentry.

  ‘I don’t rightly know where you’ll find the Colonel, sir.’ The man shook his head. ‘There’s bloody chaos in there ‒ beggin’ the young lady’s pardon, sir. I’ve never seen anything like it! I should try the adjutant’s office.’ The coach moved on.

  Lucia looked apprehensive. ‘What did he mean?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Hugo climbed down. ‘Stay here,’ he said briefly. He finally ran the Colonel to earth at the far end of the buildings, but not before he had witnessed scenes of the most appalling misery. Wherever he looked, hundreds of men covered every inch of floor space, helpless, hopeless men shaken with ague, many of them crying like babies in their wretchedness.

  Colonel Prendergast wore the air of a man harassed almost beyond endurance. He was a tall, spare man with red hair fast turning grey. Hugo introduced himself.

  ‘Ah, Lord Mandersely! You’ve come for your young relative. This is a bad business ‒ a bad business! To be frank with you we don’t know which way to turn.’

  ‘What in God’s name is amiss?’

  ‘Nothing short of catastrophe, my lord,’ came the grim reply. ‘Reception centres such as this are being improvised all along the coast; Moore’s old camp at Hythe is turned into a hospital and already has more dead than one cares to contemplate. The poor devils are being landed in their thousands ‒ those who haven’t perished on the way across!

  ‘The militia are being hard-pressed to get them all ashore. I tell you, sir, I have never seen my own men so deeply moved as they have been these two days past!’

  ‘And my cousin?’ Hugo was almost afraid to ask.

  ‘I fear he is in a poor way. We’ve done our best for him, but you can see how we are placed …!’

  ‘It would appear to be some particularly virulent form of fever,’ Hugo suggested.

  Colonel Prendergast inclined his head wearily. ‘As I understand the matter, it swept through Walcheren Island and South Beveland until scarcely a man remained at his post and the position became quite untenable.’ He raised bleak eyes to Hugo. ‘And so, my lord, for the second time in eight months, the British Army was forced to withdraw.’

  A very young adjutant put a worried face round the door. ‘Beg pardon sir, but there’s a young girl wandering amongst the sick men.’

  The Colonel cursed him roundly. ‘Well ‒ don’t stand there like a fool, man! Get her out ‒ on the double!’

  The young man looked sheepish. ‘I did try, sir, but she refused to leave.’

  Awful realization dawned on Hugo. ‘I very much regret, Colonel, she may be with me.’

  The Colonel turned a choleric eye on him.

  Hugo said wryly, ‘Miss Mannering is a very determined young lady.’

  ‘Mannering?’ barked the Colonel. ‘Related to Colonel Mannering?’

  ‘His grand-daughter.’

  ‘Ha! It must run in the family! I served under him ‒ a long time ago now. Damned fine officer, but stubborn to the point of pig-headedness!’ Colonel Prendergast took Hugo’s arm with a sudden grin. ‘Come, my lord ‒ we’d better get that girl out before our Dr Brent finds her.’

  They found Lucia on her knees in the midst of indescribable squalor and the stench of excrement and sweating, feverish bodies, gently soothing a poor incoherent wretch, bathing his face with her best lace handkerchief. All around her, hands reached out to clutch at her skirts.

  It was only when Hugo rapped out her name a second time that her concentration relaxed. He pulled her roughly to her feet, his face livid.

  ‘Lucia! What in hell do you think you are doing?’

  ‘Trying to help,’ she replied simply. ‘I was waiting outside and I heard the crying, but there is so little one can do, my lord.’

  Colonel Prendergast cleared his throat; Hugo recalled himself and performed brief introductions.

  ‘You should not be here, Miss Mannering,’ the Colonel told Lucia sternly. ‘These men are extremely ill. It is no place for a young lady.’

  ‘But I was here and they needed help. There was no-one else to give it. It would seem to me, Colonel,’ she added in stern reproof, ‘that you are in need of a considerable number of orderlies to set this place to rights.’

  The adjutant goggled; over Lucia’s head the Colonel raised expressive eyebrows at Hugo, but only said gravely, ‘You are no doubt right, my dear young lady, but unfortunately this visitation came upon us without warning and caught us ill-prepared.’

  ‘Lucia ‒ you will come away this instant!’ commanded Hugo, seeing that she was about to become further involved. ‘We are here to collect Toby ‒ or had you forgotten?’

  ‘Oh, you have found him! Is he …?’ She looked around her suddenly, unable to complete the question.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Colonel Prendergast said gently.

  Outside in the fresh air Lucia’s control faltered. Hugo, seeing her face change colour, acted promptly. ‘Head down!’ he rapped out, and held her so until she protested weakly that she was quite recovered.

  He looked at her keenly; she was still white, but apologised for being so stupid.

  ‘Are you sure I cannot get you something, ma-am?’ The Colonel was red-faced with concern. ‘A little brandy, perhaps?’

  ‘No, really,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Please ‒ let us go on.’

  ‘You will wait in the coach, my girl!’ said Hugo.

  ‘I would prefer …’

  ‘Lucia!’ There was a subtle threat in the one, soft-spoken word.

  She flashed him a quick smile. ‘Very well ‒ I will be good.’ She turned to Colonel Prendergast. ‘Thank you for looking after Toby …’ She gave him her hand.

  He bowed over it with great gallantry. ‘It has been a delight to meet you, Miss Mannering. I only wish the circumstances had been happier. Perhaps you will remember me to your grandfather.’

  Lucia looked puzzled. ‘I once served under him as a very raw subaltern ‒ I don’t suppose he will remember.’

  ‘Oh, but he will! He never forgets anyone. You must visit him when you have time. He likes to remember the old army days.’

  She climbed into the coach and Hugo saw her settled.

  Colbert was fidgeting with the harness as the Marquis passed him. The footsteps halted. Very red around the ears, the groom turned to meet the silent query in the sleepy eyes.

  ‘It’s no use you blaming me for allowing the missy to go in there, m’lord,’ he stated with rough candour. ‘You knows better than me how she is when she gets the bit between her teeth!’

  The Marquis raised an eyebrow, half-smiled and passed on. Colbert took out a large, red-spotted handkerchief and mopped round the back of his neck ‒ and his nice-ugly face split in a slow, rueful grin.

  The journey home became a nightmare. Lucia was really frightened when Hugo laid Toby in the coach; his face was ashen, his lovely fair hair dirty and matted. Someone had tried to clean him up and he was wearing a shirt several sizes too big. Hugo covered him with the blankets they had brought and laid
his greatcoat over the top, but every few minutes he was convulsed by terrible bouts of shaking.

  Lucia turned despairing eyes on Hugo. ‘Is he going to die?’

  ‘No, of course not!’

  Toby opened his eyes and stared blankly at the roof. Lucia leaned over him. ‘Toby? Toby ‒ it’s Lucy.’

  His eyes focused on her slowly and he frowned. ‘Lucy? Shouldn’t be here, Lucy … ship ain’t a fit place …’ He seemed to have trouble concentrating. ‘Sorry about this, m’dear … not feeling quite the thing, you know …’

  ‘Don’t talk, Toby dear. Try to sleep. Hugo is with me; we’re taking you home.’

  ‘Home!’ He sighed and shut his eyes. Almost at once they flew open again, stark fear in their depths. ‘Lucy! ‒ Don’t let them put me over the side …’ He was trying to remember. ‘They’re putting them all over the side … promise me, Lucy … they’ll listen to you …’

  ‘I promise!’ she whispered, choking back tears.

  Hugo told him that he was talking a great deal of nonsense, assured him that he was no longer on the ship and must rest. Toby managed a weak grin. ‘Glad you’re here, Hugo … damned silly business this … Oh, God help me …’ He began to shudder violently and they had to hold him lest he roll off the seat. And so the pattern repeated itself for the whole of the journey.

  When they at last arrived home, Toby was carried upstairs and Lucia was shut out whilst Hugo and two of the footmen stripped and washed him and got him between clean soft linen.

  Then Dr Gordon arrived and she was banished yet again. She paced the corridor outside and nothing Aunt Aurelia could say would move her. She curled up at last on the sofa near the bedroom door, in her stained, crumpled dress, and was still there when they finally emerged, the doctor’s greying head bent, his face grave.

  Hugo frowned. ‘Lucia? Have you been here all this time? Silly child!’

  She ignored the reproof. ‘How is Toby, doctor?’

  ‘Well now, lassie ‒ I’ll not deny he’s a very sick young man, but he’s strong ‒ and he has youth on his side …’ He turned to Hugo. ‘I have found you a reliable nurse ‒ if someone could be sent to fetch her.’

  ‘I shall nurse Toby,’ said Lucia in a calm, practical voice. ‘I should not dream of letting anyone else look after him.’

  Dr Gordon stared. ‘No, no my dear young lady ‒ I cannot permit it. You don’t know what you are suggesting!’

  ‘Yes I do. And I know of your so-called nurses! I will not have Toby nursed by such a one! I am very capable and not at all squeamish; Lord Mandersely will tell you.’

  Hugo leaned a shoulder against the wall, watching with interest. ‘Take my advice, Gordon ‒ give in now. It will save you time and temper!’

  ‘My lord, surely you do not approve this foolishness?’

  Lucia anxiously awaited Hugo’s reply.

  His eyes rested on her quizzically. ‘Let us say that I have learned to bow to the inevitable. Miss Mannering was certainly not put off by the deplorable conditions at the barracks earlier today. I believe she would have organised the entire sick bay had she been left there much longer! And she was a tower of strength on the journey home!’ He was rewarded by a smile, which made him catch his breath.

  ‘H’m!’ snorted the old man.

  ‘Chloe will help. She’s a sensible girl, and there are any number of servants to call upon,’ Lucia coaxed.

  Dr Gordon capitulated, but insisted that she must follow his instructions to the letter and take her proper rest and some fresh air each day ‒ conditions to which she readily agreed ‒ and which Hugo made sure she followed.

  Nevertheless for several days it was touch and go for Toby and it seemed that Lucia was never absent from the sickroom for any length of time day or night.

  When therefore Hugo came into Toby’s room after midnight on the third evening, to find a screen pulled around the bed to shield it from the soft glow of the lamp and Lucia quite alone, curled up on the sofa with one hand tucked childishly beneath her cheek, fast asleep, his first reaction was one of anger that she was again taking too much upon herself.

  He stooped to wake her and obeying a sudden impulse, touched the softly curving lips with his own in a kiss as light as thistledown.

  Lucia stirred and opened her eyes, confused at seeing Hugo so close, unsure whether the kiss had been real or part of her dream.

  ‘This is not taking your proper rest,’ Hugo reproved her sternly. ‘And why are you alone?’

  ‘I hadn’t intended to sleep.’ She swung her feet to the ground. ‘I made Chloe go to bed ‒ she was very tired.’

  She ignored the quizzically raised eyebrow and crossed to the bed. ‘Toby has been so much quieter this evening; do you think that is a good sign?’

  Hugo came round the screen and eyed his cousin critically. His breathing seemed easier and the fractious lines had eased from his face. ‘He’ll do!’ he said abruptly. ‘Now you can emulate Chloe and go to your bed ‒ get some proper sleep.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts, my dear. I intend to sit with Toby for the remainder of the night.’ He propelled her firmly towards the door. ‘And pray remove that troubled frown,’ he added laconically. ‘I am well able to manage!’

  He was looking down at her in a way that made her feel suddenly and quite ridiculously shy; she murmured an incoherent good-night ‒ and fled.

  By the following morning Toby was fully back in his senses, though woefully weak and emaciated.

  Dr Gordon straightened up from his examination with a grunt of satisfaction. ‘You’re lucky to be alive, young man. Quite frankly, I didn’t give much for your chances the night they brought you home.’

  ‘I don’t remember much,’ Toby grinned feebly. ‘But my thanks to you nonetheless, Dr Gordon.’

  ‘It’s not me you need to thank. Captain,’ he turned with a twinkle, ‘but a very determined young lady who is no doubt delighted to have proved this old fool of a doctor wrong!’

  Lucia blushed furiously and protested that such had never been her intention. The good doctor chuckled aloud.

  ‘I know, lassie ‒ I know. But I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve been wrong. If the gallant captain owes his life to anyone, he owes it to you.’

  Toby held out a shaky hand and Lucia, smiling a little tremulously, took it and sat on the bed beside him.

  The doctor left them and Hugo walked with him to the door.

  ‘That is a very happy couple we have just left, my lord,’ he said as they shook hands on the step. ‘The little lassie must be very much in love with her captain to have nursed him with such devotion.’

  With this jovial observation the doctor left Hugo and never noticed the peculiar blankness in his eyes, or the way that the skin round his mouth had gone white with the sudden convulsive tightening of his jaw.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘You should have come, Lucy, really you should!’ Perched upon Lucia’s bed, Hetty was holding forth with her usual enthusiasm.

  ‘Lady Sefton was desolated that you were not with us,’ Hetty bubbled, ‘and Charles said Mr Brummell was too! Lottie Travers was the only one who could sing in anyway in tune and we had to endure some dreadfully dull prosy verses from ‒ oh, I can’t remember the man’s name, but Mr Brummell was quite cutting about them in his usual droll way!’ Hetty rattled on, scarcely pausing for breath.

  ‘Oh, and Hugo was there of course … and what do you think? So was Sophia! Oh, but I wish I had one quarter of her panache! She wore a gown of clinging silver gauze ‒ and my dear, I swear she hadn’t a stitch on underneath! It would have put me to the blush, but she wore it with such an air …!’

  There was more, but Lucia had stopped listening. She was hurt and bewildered by Hugo’s abrupt changes of mood. She had been so sure during Toby’s illness that his regard for her was growing ‒ she had not, she asserted passionately, imagined that stolen kiss, the look in his eyes ‒ and yet, as soon as Toby was out of danger, he went out
of his way to avoid her.

  Oh, he was always unfailingly kind and gentle with her when they did meet. He was obviously grateful for all she had done. But she didn’t want gratitude ‒ she missed the teasing, the razor-edge quality that had been so exhilarating a part of their relationship!

  And so, knowing that Hugo was to be at Lady Sefton’s soiree, she had feigned a migraine in order to cry off.

  ‘… I had thought their affair to be over: since the summer, but it seems he has hardly been out of her pocket these last weeks, and is finally on the point of offering for her!’ Hetty’s voice took on a note of petulance. ‘Really, I do think Hugo might have a little more consideration for his family! Fancy saddling us with the abominable Countess …!’

  Lucia felt as though the blood was slowly draining out of her. From a long way off she heard Hetty’s voice asking if she was all right, and made a determined effort to pull herself together.

  With a rush of skirts Hetty was beside her. ‘Oh, Lucy! What a blind, clumsy fool I am! You are in love with Hugo!’ She took Lucia’s ice-cold hand and gently chafed it. ‘Look, I’ve probably got it all wrong …’

  Lucia shook her head. ‘Not this time. After all, it has always been on the cards, hasn’t it?’

  Her voice was so full of bitterness that Hetty exploded, ‘Oh, really ‒ I could kill Hugo! I would so dearly have loved you for a sister. How could he prefer that … that …’

  ‘Why not? She has everything that a man like Hugo would look for in a wife. She has beauty, elegance, she comes of a good family …’

  ‘She is a bitch!’ stated Hetty flatly.

  ‘Yes, well there is no point in reviling her ‒ she is Hugo’s choice.’ Lucia had herself well under control now and there was only the slightest quiver in her voice as she begged Hetty to tell no-one.

  Several days later Lady Springhope developed a nasty cold, and took to her bed swathed in numerous shawls. She dosed herself with a varied assortment of evil-smelling medicaments guaranteed to alleviate the severest symptoms, which had no noticeable effect other than to shorten her temper; she finally emerged from her room, weak and tetchy, to find Lucia alone, Toby having been carried off by Hugo to inspect a pair of greys he was thinking of buying, and Hetty gone out with Charles.