She sat in silence beside him, wanting suddenly to lean her forehead against his shoulder, but knowing much better. After lengthy reflection and inward admonition, she turned her attention to the major, who was beginning to stoop over again.
"I thought you stayed at the Picton"s for a rest," she accused him. "You need to lie down, don"t you?"
He nodded. "General Picton"s private surgeon decided to tinker with me. Were you aware of that portion by my right shoulder that was so red?"
She nodded, remembering how he favored it.
"He opened the wound again ..."
"Oh, G.o.d!"
"... and extracted a portion of my uniform, which the saber had driven into my back. That was causing the infection."
She looked at him in horror, and he shook his head at her concern. "It"s a common problem, Miss P, so don"t get bug-eyed! My shoulder began to feel better immediately. I am certain I am almost well." He returned his attention to the private. "Unlike this poor devil, I had the advantage of a better man of science." He touched the soldier"s cheek. "And now I go to one home, and he to another."
She sat a moment more in silence, then took a deep breath. "Major Reed, you will undo all your surgeon"s good work if you do not lie down! I can sit here in your place. His name is Charles, isn"t it? And he is from Bath?"
He nodded. "Yes. A workhouse there. There is much more, of course, but we are reduced to these essentials, eh, Charlie Banks?" he said.
There was no response, but from the major"s tone, he had expected none. "Go lie down, sir. I can manage," she said, getting up. In another moment she was seated in the major"s place, running the cool cloth over Charlie"s face. When she finished, she took his hand in hers.
The major stared down at them both for a moment more, then made his way back to the lady chapel. She watched him go, making sure that he lay down upon his cot. As though I could do anything about it if he did not, she thought. She noted with amus.e.m.e.nt that he carefully retied the white satin bow on her hatbox before he lay down.
Men are strange creatures, she thought. Kitty regularly boasts that they are simple beings, but in this, as in other areas involving thought and observation, I think she comes up short. "Go home, Major Reed," she whispered. "You cannot do any more here. Nor can I, if ever I could."
The afternoon wore on longer than most afternoons. She had hoped to leave early, to get the smell of the hospital from her skin before she dressed for the Capitulation Banquet. Instead she sat in silence, listening to the sounds of revelry and bands playing in the streets outside as London went wild for the victors who had sent Napoleon to exile on Elba. Some fashionables came into the church for a look around, but they did not stay this time, driven out, she supposed, by the odor of putrefaction that was everywhere and unavoidable.
The sound of revelry faded as the shadows lengthened, and all she heard was the shallow breathing of Charles before her. It became more rapid, and she nearly called for Major Reed. I will wait, she told herself, even as she felt her own fears returning. Major Reed will never recuperate if he is continually jumping up and down to satisfy my own nerves, she reasoned. Willing herself into a steely sort of serenity, she carefully wiped the dying man"s face and smoothed the hair back from his forehead. "You will do now," she whispered. "You are as clean and tidy as I can make you, and I will not let go."
To still her own anxiety, she hummed to him, and noticed that he seemed to relax. One or two times he forgot to breathe. She held her breath until he began again, but the rhythm was off now, and she knew he was close to death.
To her relief, she felt Major Reed"s presence behind her. She did not turn around, but felt her own confidence returning. At least I do not have to walk this path alone again, she thought. At least, until the turn is mine.
Charles began to struggle for breath, and at last she turned around to motion the major closer. She stopped in surprise at first, and then in huge indignation.
Instead of the major, staring over her shoulder were two men in high shirt points, with fobs and seals. One of them held a cologne-drenched handkerchief to his nose.
"Oh, don"t mind us," said the other, his tone as languid as the hand he waved at her. "We"ve never seen a man die before, and this is all so excessively diverting."
"Oh, G.o.d," she whispered, wanting to throw herself on the dying soldier to keep them from staring at him. "Please go away! He doesn"t deserve this!"
The men only crowded closer. "He is only a common soldier, so how can it possibly matter?" said one, his voice m.u.f.fled by the handkerchief. "You there, tell me. Do they all make such noises? I do hope he dies soon. We have another engagement"-he pulled out his pocket watch-"in an hour, but we do not want to miss something so promising."
"I thought they writhed about," said the other man, his tone disappointed. "He is merely lying there. We were expecting more," he concluded, and frowned at her as though such inattention to detail was her fault.
"Oh, you were?"
It was Major Reed, and he stood behind the men now, his uniform jacket off and his hair untidy from sleep.
Lydia stared at him. She thought she had seen the major angry before, but as she watched the way he stared at the two fribbles, inhabitants of their own cla.s.s, she realized how wrong she was, how unenlightened. She had nothing except contempt for the human vultures who entertained themselves by watching Private Banks" death agony, but as she watched Major Reed"s expression, she felt the smallest sympathy for the two men. "I think you two should leave now," she told them, her voice low.
"And lose a bet?" said the one with the handkerchief. "Lord Allsuch has one hundred pounds sitting on this one, and I intend to collect. Oh, do stand aside! He is doing something interesting now, isn"t he? It"s about time."
She turned back to the private, who in his struggle to breathe was attempting to raise up on his elbow. Keeping herself between him and the men who crowded close behind her, she elevated him with another pillow, then sat on the edge of his cot.
"You made a bet?"
Lydia flinched at the conversational tone in the major"s voice. How can these men be so stupid? she asked herself in amazement. Major Reed had come closer now and was standing between her and the men.
"Yes! Yes!" said the other man impatiently. "Allsuch said we hadn"t the rumgumption to watch one of the soldiers die at St. Barnabas. To prove we have been here, we are to take back some little souvenir from the dead man. You can find us something when he dies. I wish you would move."
"I"ll find you something," the major said. "Let"s be dears now and let Charlie die first, shall we?" He sat down beside Lydia and took the private"s other hand. "It"s all right, Private Banks. I order you to let go."
She thought he was beyond hearing, but the private opened his eyes one last time. "We did it, didn"t we?" he gasped, and then he died.
The major sat in silence a moment and then he closed the private"s eyes. "Yes, we did, Charlie," he whispered, tears on his cheeks. "From Vimeiro to Toulouse, by G.o.d. Shift a bit, Lydia."
She did as he ordered, and the major pulled the blanket she had been sitting on over his private"s face. He turned around then, and still sitting on the cot, looked up at the fribbles. "Well, then, sirs, what can we do for you?"
His tone was so pleasant that she felt almost sick to her stomach. Go away! she pleaded silently, but the men were oblivious.
"To begin with, I am disappointed," said the man with the handkerchief. "I was expecting something more. Weren"t you, Lindsay? I thought so."
"Really?"
"Yes, and this place stinks," complained the other.
Major Reed rose to his feet then. Lydia wanted to leap up and grab his arm, but she remained where she was. Reed sniffed the air elaborately, leaning close to the men until they backed up. "Funny. The only stink I notice comes from you two worthless hounds of h.e.l.l."
He said it so calmly that it took a moment for his words to sink in. "See here!" declared one.
"Yes!" said the other. "Do you know who my father is?"
"No, and I doubt that you do, either," the major said. "You"re not fit to stand with heroes," he continued, his voice rising slightly as he stepped closer and the men continued to retreat. "I could puke when I think that we-Charlie here and I-fought for dregs like you."
She could see fear in their eyes now as the men shuffled backward against the major"s relentless advance. "I just need a souvenir!" insisted the one with the handkerchief. He gasped as he brushed against a pile of stained bandages.
"I have some proof for you. You can take it to Mayfair."
Before she could move to stop him, Major Reed bent down and picked up an earthenware jar covered with a cloth. With one swift motion, he threw the contents onto the two fashionables. Dripping, stinking, they screamed and clutched each other, then ran from the chapel.
His hand to his shoulder, the major sat down on a vacant cot. "I probably shouldn"t have done that," he said after a long pause.
She thought of all the hot words she could throw at him about manners and decorum, and rudeness to possibly prominent people, but none of them seemed terribly important. She touched the blanketed arm of the private. Charles, you had an able defender, she thought, but you knew that, didn"t you?
"No, you shouldn"t have done that," she agreed, matching him calm for calm. "You might have hurt your shoulder again."
She stood up, noting how curious it was that the room seemed to be dipping and spinning. She waited a moment until the building stood still again, then crossed the dripping floor to Major Reed and held out her hand to him.
"Let us shake hands, sir. I am going now, and I will not be back. Do listen to your surgeons just once in a while. Oh, and I wish you luck in your matrimonial career."
He looked startled that she would leave, and this surprised her. "You have been telling me to go all day," she reminded him.
"I suppose I have." He shook her hand. "Mind that you wash your hands really well, Miss Perkins." He cleared his throat, and changed the subject in that drastic way of his. "If you won"t marry me, would you allow me to write you?"
I would love to know how you go on in Northumberland, she thought, and whether you can find a wife, or even stand up straight again. "No, sir. That is rather too forward. Good day."
He seemed to take it in good grace, smiling and nodding as she picked her way across the floor. I will honestly miss him, she thought, and turned around for a last look.
He had not moved any closer, so he spoke to her in a loud voice, an artillery voice, one used to carrying over canister and round-shot. "As far as I can see, Miss Perkins, you have only one lack."
"I am an antidote?" she called back.
"G.o.d, no!" he said. "I don"t know why you say that, and it irritates me." He held his thumb and forefinger close together. "Your spirit of adventure is a bit undeveloped. That is all."
She turned away. Thank you and good-bye, Major Reed, she thought.
Chapter Eight.
Lydia was quite alone with her thoughts as she rode home from St. Barnabas, and her thoughts were not productive. With a heavy heart she gazed out the window, seeing the arches and banners proclaiming victory, and wondering if anyone who cheered or raised gla.s.ses had even an inkling of the terrible price of success. I know I never did, she thought.
She stirred restlessly in the carriage, wishing that she could have walked off some of the agitation that festered inside. The war was over, and discounting renewed trouble in America, and the agitation that always simmered in India, England was more at peace than anytime she could remember. By the time the last man dies at St. Barnabas, she knew that few would even remember that anyone was there in the crumbling structure except bats and mice.
"What did you expect, Lydia?" she scolded herself. "You didn"t know such places existed before your first visit." She wondered what she would do with her newfound knowledge. If Kitty does not contract a good alliance, we will return to Devon, and things will go on as before, she thought. Mama will scold and rail, Kitty will demand and pout, and I will be expected to soothe and placate each, while Papa retreats to his study. Life will go on as before, she decided and the fact did not fill her with any enthusiasm, even though it was the only life she knew.
She leaned against the gla.s.s and closed her eyes. I suppose I will always wonder about Private Charlie Banks, lowliest of men, a loader and rammer in the remarkable Battery B, where he had worth and family. I can pray he died peacefully, his commander with him, and not aware of the two creatures who saw him only as entertainment on a boring afternoon.
She took a deep breath and sat up straight, appalled all over again by what she had witnessed. You creatures are lucky that Major Reed only emptied the slops on you, she thought. How sad that the major and his men should have to fight through Portugal, Spain, and France, then come home to fight different battles no less painful.
What is my place, now that I have earned so much education? The question was high in her mind as she went into the house on Holly Street. I should probably say something to Mama, she thought. It will be an unpleasant interview, but I ought to advise her to warn away Kitty from the likes of those two-oh, I cannot call them men-those two unfeeling beings.
There was no time for conversation, she discovered, as she glanced at the clock, then hurried upstairs, where the overworked maid who worked for her and Kitty had already drawn her a bath. It was lukewarm, but she sank into it with grat.i.tude, wondering if there was enough soap in the world to remove the disease and death that layered her like armor.
She knew Mama would never permit her to carry on any sort of philanthropic work at home. Lydia sank lower in the water. "I can hear you now, Mama," she said. " "What would the neighbors think, Lydia, to find you grubbing in workhouses? A little soup at Christmas to the deserving poor, or some ox-foot jelly is all that is expected of a lady." "
She washed thoughtfully, thinking of marriage, and reflecting on the vicar"s wives she had known through the years; dour, practical women, for the most part, who were expected to do more good than their parishioners. I shall have to figure out how to snare a vicar, she thought. But oh, how I dread the idea of Sunday sermons!
There was no time for more reflection: the water was already getting cold. From habit, she dressed by herself, knowing that the maid would be entirely occupied with Kitty"s needs. She smoothed down the folds carefully, her spirits rising a little. Papa had purchased the fabric for her when Mama and Kitty were in Bath, and the dress was commissioned and constructed before they returned. She clasped on the garnet necklace, then mentally kicked herself because she had left behind at St. Barnabas the beautiful bonnet that Major Reed had purchased for her. "Oh, I am stupid," she said, looking at herself in the mirror. "The dear thing would have been perfect."
Likely he is on his way to Northumberland by now, she thought. I wonder what he has done with the hat? I shall go back tomorrow and hunt for it, she told herself, even though she knew she would never return to the church.
How quiet the house is, she thought as she went downstairs to the drawing room and seated herself, careful not to wrinkle the fabric. St. Barnabas was quiet, too, she thought, unable to direct her mind along other channels. Death is charitable to come so quietly. One moment there is life, and in the next, Private Banks sees more and knows more than we do who remain behind. She closed her eyes. I must clear my mind of this, or it will overpower me, she thought.
Papa joined her in a few minutes, dressed formally and looking every inch a baronet. He ruined the effect by peering around the edge of the door before he came into the room. It is all right, Papa, she wanted to rea.s.sure him, but she merely smiled. How sad that we have almost nothing to say, after twenty-two years in the same family. "Papa, you look quite handsome," she said finally.
He started, as usual, then smiled back. "So do you, my dear. I believe yellow is most attractive on you." He cleared his throat, and glanced around again. "How was your day at St. Barnabas?" he asked, as he had every evening for the past two weeks.
Papa, they are all dying now, and it is quite hopeless. Vulgar men prey on the soldiers, and make a mock of their death struggles. I have seen such cruelty today that it will probably change my life. "It was as usual, Papa," she said after a long pause. "I ... I think I will not be returning, though."
His vague look was replaced for the briefest moment by a glance of deepest concern, followed by an expression unfamiliar to her. Was it regret? She could not tell.
"Daughter, do let me tell you now while it is ... quiet, how proud I am that you have done this thing." He said it quickly, as though afraid to be found out with an opinion.
It was a rare compliment, and filled her with unexpected pleasure. "I did so little, Papa," she said, apology high in her voice.
Another look around. He moved himself closer along the sofa. "You did more than any of us, my dear." He leaned closer to take her hand. "I do not know a man in London prouder of a daughter than I am."
"Humphrey, for once I am entirely in agreement with you!"
He started, and released her hand. "Yes, my dear," he said, turning to look at his wife in the doorway.
Kitty stood beside her, magnificent in pale blue. Lydia looked closer. I wonder if she knows she has forgotten her petticoat, she almost said, then changed her mind. I suppose it is all the crack to appear half naked at these functions, and I am merely out of step, she thought.
"Kitty is enough to make any father proud," Mama said.
Papa cleared his throat. "Actually, I was ... I meant ... Yes, my dear, she is lovely."
Poor Papa, Lydia thought. And poor Kitty, if I do not warn her. "You need to know something," she said as she went to her mother and sister. "Kitty dear, it distresses me to tell you this, but do have a care around some of the young men of the ton."
Kitty stared at her blankly. "Whatever are you blathering about, Lydia?" she asked. "Do come out with whatever maggot has got into your brain." She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. "I am certain we do not have time for nonsense." She looked at her mother for confirmation, then back to Lydia. "We have already waited for you to return from that ... that sewer where you insist on spending your days."
"And we would not have waited, except that these invitations came especially from General Picton himself, particularly to you!" Mama reminded her.
"I know, Mama, and I am sorry for any trouble." Lydia considered all of Kitty"s sensibilities, and condensed her story into several sentences-leaving out Major Reed"s impulsive reaction-as Kitty frowned at her and Mama listened, her face a study in irritation. Well, you should be angry, Mama, she thought as she finished. I know I would not wish the daughter I have so many hopes for exposed to such creatures. "I thought you would wish to be warned away from a.s.sociation with such people," she concluded, looking to her father for support.
To her amazement, Kitty laughed. "Lydia, you goose! That Lindsey you speak of is Lord Lindsey." She dimpled prettily. "Or more properly, I should call him Viscount Lindsey. Yes, his father is Lord Walsingham."
"More shame then," Lydia said quietly. "When I think of the trouble his father has gone to, preparing his report on medical conditions, I could shudder that his son ...."
"Lydia, this is quite enough!" Mama said. "Lord Lindsey is all the rage this Season. See, you are wounding Kitty. How could you do that?"
She stared at her sister, who had begun to pout. Oh, Lord, she thought in disgust, in another moment there will be tears and a scene. I do not understand these people I am related to. She tried again. "Kitty, I"m only warning you. Probably the largest beast in this whole affair is someone called Allsuch. The whole wretched bet was his idea. And that other man, the one with the handkerchief and the languid air ... I cannot think him fit company for demons."
Kitty drew herself up to her full height and glared at Lydia. "Lord Allsuch." She said the words distinctly, biting them off as Mama would have. "He is my particular friend. Indeed, Lydia, I have high hopes of him, so do keep your silly scruples to yourself."
Lydia gasped, as though her sister had struck her. She took Kitty by the shoulders. "Katherine Elaine, they watched a man die for entertainment! How can you ...."
Kitty wrenched herself away and turned to her mother. "Mama, we will be late if we listen to much more of this. Lydia, I wish you would not take things so hard." She laughed, and the sound was brittle and hard to Lydia"s ears. "Lord, Mama, we should never have brought her up from Devon. You were right, but I thought London would do her good."
"It did," Lydia said quietly as she turned away to gather her shawl from the sofa. Papa gazed at her with an expression of deep concern, but she did not trouble to return it. I have no allies here, she thought. Her head began to ache, and she knew it would be a long evening.