Carla Kelly (29 page)

Armand gently ran his fingers down the dead man’s eyes. “Somtime in the night, Captain. That’s good enough for us, and I don’t think he cares. It’s…it’s just time.”

He nodded and stood up, covering the soldier’s face, so peaceful now. All I know is that although you were a fusilier and my enemy, I would prefer you alive, he thought. “At least we can leave him in a good place, Armand.” He hesitated a moment, then touched Leger’s shoulder. “Thank you for staying with him.”

He took his own time in the refectory, looking again at each sleeping man. Harper had resumed his place beside Philippe Barzun. “The nun went somewhere.”

“It must be Lauds, Private. When she returns, you had better get some sleep. I think we will have to leave this day.”

The glance Harper directed his way was dubious, at best. “I’d rather wait a bit until we know this captain isn’t going to be crow food, sir.”

“Harper, you’ve changed on this retreat.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but so have you.”

He walked more slowly down the hall, his bare feet cold on the stones. Elinore sat up when he came to bed. He knew he didn’t have to say anything, because she kissed him and then wrapped her arms around him as he sat there beside her, still a little numb and wondering from death.

“It never changes, my love,” he said softly. “I am astounded by death. It irritates me, and I wonder if he might have lived under better circumstances.” He turned
to face her. “But you know, he’s so obviously somewhere else, and it didn’t look unpleasant.”

“You are here,” she pointed out in that practical way of hers.

“I am,” he agreed, touched in an odd way. “What should I do about it?”

“Love me,” she replied, and removed her nightgown.

He obliged her with real fervor, even as his disordered brain contemplated this curious juxtaposition of love and death within a half hour of each other. She came this time, with a rush of breath against his ear and a straining up toward him that lifted his heart miles from the grave and bound him to her forever, no matter how much life either of them had remaining.

“My goodness,” she said, after he left her body but was still as close as he could possibly be. “I had no idea.”

He laughed softly. “Perhaps I am a great lover, Nell.”

“How would I know?” she replied in that frank way of hers, so practical and at the same time so seductive.

He growled and took a nip at her shoulder. She shrieked and then laughed, and covered her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, dear, what will the nuns think?”

“I don’t intend to worry about it,” he told her as he settled back in absolute comfort and gathered her close to him. He looked at her then traced the contour of her face with his finger. “I love you, Elinore.”

“Even if it’s not the wisest thing you ever did?” She said it softly, her eyes closed.

He put his hand on her head and gave it a little shake. “Elinore, I fear that in seeing our differences, you have overlooked a way in which we are uncannily similar.” When she did not answer, but sighed instead, he continued, “You and I have been given someone’s permission to do the world’s dirty work. I chose it by going to medical school. You didn’t have any choice.” It was his turn to sigh as his wife put her bare leg over him. “My choice made me cynical and somewhat irreligious. As far as I can tell, it made you kindly and earnest.”

“Earnest?” she repeated with a laugh. “Loverlike words, my boy!”

He smiled. “Earnest, I insist! You worked so hard to
please Major Sheffield in the hospital tent from the time you were ten. And kindly because I believe you have always thought we were better than we are.”

“But you are,” she insisted, her voice muffled now in that space between his shoulder and his chest where she fit amazingly well.

He gave her head another gentle shake. “There you go again. When you were a child, I thought you were charming, if somewhat ill-directed, to think that. When I came back to the regiment five years later and took another look at you, I decided that I wanted to become the man you thought I was. It’s as simple as that.”

She raised up on her elbow to look at him. “But what will your mother think when you bring home a somewhat shabby daughter of the regiment who—let us face facts, sir—hasn’t much education, and no social attainments?”

If she was going to lean over him like that, he was going to have to do something about her loveliness. He kissed her breast, enjoying a little unholy glee at how ragged her breathing became. His lips just brushed her nipple. He was going to chuckle at the way she shivered, except that he was shivering now. “Where was I?” he asked. “Oh, yes. Mother will tell my father how grateful she is that my brains haven’t dribbled out, then rush over to St. James the Apostle and burn five or six candles at both ends. Oh, Elinore.”

There wasn’t anything else to say.

“Y
ou don’t think anyone will notice what we have been up to?”

Don’t laugh, he told himself, as he walked down the hall with her toward the refectory. You know how earnest she is. “We are married, Elinore,” he pointed out, “and married couples frequently do the…well, they do.”

She stopped and whispered in his ear. “I’m sorry I was so noisy this morning.”

I’m not, he thought. “It’s all right, my love. The walls are thick. Tell you what, though: if you don’t want anyone to suspect that we’ve been doing the deed, you’d better try not to walk so bow-legged.”

To his utter delight, she gasped, then collected herself, and beat him over the head with her medical satchel. “You are a scoundrel!” she said, and started to laugh. Impulsively he grabbed her around the waist, pulled her close, and kissed her with a smack loud enough to start Harper laughing at the other end of the hall, where he was replacing another window blown out by artillery during the previous summer’s campaign.

“As you were, Private,” Jesse ordered.

“You, too, sir, if I may be so bold,” the private replied.

“You may not!” Jesse came closer, determined to keep the smile off his face. “I might remind you, Private Harper, that any other commander would throw you in the stockade after such an insubordinate comment.”

Harper nodded and then carefully applied the glass to the frame. “Sir, begging your pardon again, but you are not any other commander.” His face became serious again.
“Chief, that Frog is still alive.” He looked out the window he was repairing. “And the sun’s out.”

“Time for Number Eight to sally forth, Harper?”

“Yes, sir. Wilkie is watching from the bell tower, just in case anyone moves out on the road from Salamanca.” He looked at Jesse again, a question in his eyes. “Suppose no one comes from Salamanca? No telling where Clausel, Soult, and Souham will meet, is there, sir? It would be good for us if no one comes this way, but not so good for our little hospital here. I mean, the Frog is better, but he still needs a surgeon, don’t he? And what about the others?”

I wish you could hear yourself, Harper, Jesse thought. I doubt your real commander would even recognize you as that drunk infantryman found headfirst in the latrine. “I have been thinking that very thing, Harper. I want to talk with you and Wilkie, but first I want to see our…uh, Frog.”

Sister Maria Josefina rose from Barzun’s bedside when he came into the refectory, nodded to him, and left quietly. Elinore hesitated, then went down the row to sit by the soldier with the burned arm. He sat down beside Barzun, took his hand, and pressed his fingers against the man’s wrist. The pulse, steady and rhythmic now, made him smile. For good measure, he put the back of his hand against Barzun’s forehead. “
Buon dia, paisan,
” he said. “You are cool, your pulse is steady. I suppose this means you are determined to live.” He lifted the blanket, relieved to see no swelling now beyond what he deemed as normal, considering the insult to Barzun’s system. “The army has not paid me in six months. Too bad I cannot charge you a whopping fee, Captain Barzun. Oh, please don’t do that.” He took a cloth and wiped the French surgeon’s eyes. “Let us just call this a professional courtesy, eh? I know you would have done the same for me.”

He gave the surgeon a moment to collect himself. “You have put me in a delicate position, though. I won’t call you free from danger yet, but I know I should leave before your army in Salamanca decides to move in this direction.” He took a deep breath. “I also know that our
maestro
would consider me a poor graduate, indeed, if I abandoned you or your patients.” He scratched his head and looked
at Elinore. “Truth to tell, I am not certain that I could live with myself if I did leave. You see my dilemma.”

“I do. If you’ll permit me an observation, my friend, I think I slept more last night than you did.” After a lengthy pause in which his face grew red, Barzun smiled at him. “How nice to know that the British army possesses at least one officer who still blushes!”

“Philippe, that’s not the issue here,” he protested.

“In a way, it is. You have a deeply personal obligation to your lovely wife, a professional one to your mangy soldiers, and…and a political one to Armand Leger that runs counter to your stewardship of me and my patients.”

Jesse stared at him in surprise. “You
know
who Leger is?”

“I’ll wager there is not a person in France who does not. I can only imagine how badly Napoleon would like to see him safe and sound in
la belle France.
” He shrugged. “I can also imagine that you British would find him as an embarrassment for Napoleon and everything we French stand for.” He laid his hand on Jesse’s arm. “I think you had better make a decision quickly, my friend.”

How right you are, Jesse thought. He went into the hall, ordering Harper to find Wilkie. “Bring Leger, too, and smartly now,” he ordered. “Elinore, would you summon Sister Maria Josefina?” he asked when he came back into the refectory.

Everyone assembled quickly, which gave him a moment of private satisfaction to know that he actually could convey the urgency of the situation in a military fashion, instead of in his usual more diffident style. I only wish you would not look at me as though you expect a miracle, he thought as the members of the marching hospital pulled up stools to sit close to Barzun’s cot.

“First of all, this will be a bit awkward,” he began. “I will speak to you in English, of course, and then translate to Italian for Barzun’s benefit, and Sister Maria’s. She must know what I am planning, because it affects Santa Isabella.” He looked at the two privates, who were as serious as he had ever seen them. “Consider this an officers’ call, but bear in mind that this retreat has made us all equal. I want your opinion. And yours, Elinore.” He wished she sat closer, yearning for her as close as she was last night.

He outlined the dilemma in English and then in Italian. No one spoke. “As matters stand, I see few choices. Please listen carefully to what I am suggesting.” And please understand me, my dearest, he thought. “I cannot leave these men unattended. No, Harper, hear me out! I have a commitment that goes beyond this army. It’s not something I can ignore. Let me finish, Wilkie. Privates, I am going to remain behind.” He knew better than to look at Elinore just then, and hurried on. “I expect you two to get my wife, Armand Leger, and that French dispatch to Ciudad Rodrigo.” In the awful silence, he repeated himself in Italian.

Barzun listened in disbelief, which gradually changed to understanding. “I understand this, Captain Randall, but think: If you could get a letter to Salamanca, or send someone, there would be a French surgeon here soon enough.”

Jesse translated for the benefit of the others. “The Frog’s right, Chief,” Harper said, making no effort to mask the relief in his voice. “Send someone with a letter.”

“Who, Harper, who?” he asked. “The nuns? I wouldn’t dare send them into a city occupied by the French. Lorenzo the slow boy? You and I know he would be conscripted and put to hard labor. We’ve all seen it before. You or Wilkie? Never.”

“Aye, we are such valuable soldiers,” Harper said sarcastically.

“That is it precisely, Private,” Jesse said, his voice crisp now. “I am relying on you to get my wife to Ciudad Rodrigo. I know that you can and will, no matter what happens to me.” He glanced at Elinore, and wished he had not. She was in tears. “I either stay here or I deliver that message. Either way, I know I will be treated well enough, but I also know I will be conscripted. It always happens to surgeons. I see no other way out of this.” He took a deep breath. “Do you, Elinore?”

In a moment of absolute clarity, he knew what she would say. After last night, he knew her body, but he had known her mind and character for many years. What a woman I have married, he thought as she shook her head.

“I hate it, Jesse,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“But you understand.”

“I do.” The words sounded like they were ripped right out of her throat.

Armand Leger started to chuckle. Everyone looked at him. “I have a better idea, Captain Randall. In fact, it is a much better idea. I will go. I will deliver your message about the men here, and Clausel will send a surgeon. What could be simpler?”

“But…”

“No, Captain.” Leger held up his hand. “I know they will apprehend me and whisk me back to France, probably amid great rejoicing.” He permitted himself another laugh. “The marshals have done so poorly here against your damned Wellington that I daresay my retrieval will be the high point of their shortening careers!”

Elinore was at Leger’s side now, clinging to his arm. “You have told me—told us all—how much you despise Napoleon and what he has come to. Why this?”

He touched her face. Jesse swallowed, moved to his heart by the tenderness he saw there. “
Cherie
, perhaps I am doing this for Eugenie and Charlotte. Perhaps they will rest a little easier, knowing that their papa has not entirely turned his back on his foolish countrymen, and by extension, them.” He glanced at the others, and settled his gaze on Philippe Barzun. “Bonaparte will not last forever in power. I hear he is in Russia now. Imagine the foolishness! When he is gone—and he will be—maybe France will need an old revolutionary who is now amazingly wise.” He turned to Jesse. “You have other things to do, Captain, and they do not involve remaining here. Write me a letter. I will take it immediately. I can guarantee you a surgeon at Santa Isabella by nightfall.”