Saving the Rifleman (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

“I will not have her reputation tarnished by this.”

Maria barely heard John’s explanation with the word
engagement
echoing dully through her mind.

He planned to marry her to protect her reputation. He hadn’t even
asked
, just assumed she’d go along with it.

“Your father might have a few words to say about that,” the major said.

“I owe this woman everything. She saved my life several times, risking her own neck in the process. I will
not
repay her by casting her aside.”

She staggered and had to put a hand against the wall to keep herself from falling. He felt beholden to her.

That was no reason to get married.

Pain stabbed deep in her gut as she realized that he couldn’t possibly love her. He respected her, admired her intellect and felt grateful to her. That was all.

Had he made love to her for the same reason? He’d said he wanted her, but was it no more than a momentary passion?

“About my fiancée—”

Maria didn’t want to hear any more about it. How dare he put his supposed honour above his true feelings? How dare he make plans to change the course of her life without even asking her what she wanted?

Anger, sadness and grief combined to fire her muscles and her determination. She would not allow him to tie himself to a wife out of pity or obligation.

She wanted love—a deep, abiding love—or nothing at all.

She stepped down the last few steps and waved the journal in the air as she interrupted the conversation. “Here it is.”

Major Davenport nodded. “Thank you, Nurse Hunt. I would like to ask you a few more questions about Rose Culver’s activities.”

“Of course. Tomorrow?” She forced a polite smile on to her face. Damned if she’d allow her true feelings to show. “Thank you, Lieutenant, for escorting me here. I’m sure your military career will be…” She searched for the right word. “…a distinguished one.” She turned to face the major. “Can you direct me to a boardinghouse where I might stay? It’s been some time since I’ve had more than a few hours’ sleep.”

“I’m afraid there are no rooms to let in Breda. We’ve had a steady influx of refugees from Belgium since the beginning of the war. But you’re welcome to sleep in the room you were in upstairs. No one will disturb you.”

“Thank you, sir.” John stared at her with a pronounced frown on his face. “Farewell, Lieutenant.” She made her way to the stairs, put one foot on the first step and halted at the sound of his voice.

“Maria?”

She turned back and he looked as if she’d punched him in the stomach. “It’s difficult to put in words how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me. Be assured, I will never forget your many kindnesses.”

The confusion disappeared from his face. “It was a pleasure to assist you, miss. We’ll speak more after you’ve rested.”

She froze at the word
pleasure
. It numbed her limbs and stabbed barbs into her spine, making everything hurt. Breathing, thinking, feeling.

She couldn’t bring herself to answer him, but managed a tiny nod before forcing her feet to continue their climb.

She entered the room and closed the door, feeling as if someone had shot her in the heart.

She knew, she
knew
better than to trust the promises of a man in the heat of the moment. Stupid, stupid girl.

A side table held a pitcher, a bowl and several towels. She poured some water into the bowl, moistened a towel in the water and proceeded to wash her face and neck. But nothing would wash away the shame and disgust at her lapse in judgement.

What if she was pregnant with his child?

Counting backward, she realized the risk was low. Besides, there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

But she wasn’t as calm as she would have liked. Her hands trembled as she removed her shoes, stockings and dirty dress, and slid under the covers.

Sleep didn’t come fast, for whenever she closed her eyes, she saw John’s face.

* * *

Cook handed her a cup of tea and a slice of fresh bread. For a moment Maria closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the novelty of having a meal with no one attempting to kill her.

The air stirred her hair and she opened her eyes.

John stood next to her. He inclined his head. “Good morning.”

After swallowing her mouthful of bread, she nodded at him. “Good morning, Lieutenant.”

Cook handed John his own slice of bread and cup of tea. He stood next to her, savouring the food and watching breakfast being prepared.

“It seems odd, doesn’t it?” Maria asked.

“Odd?”

“Not feeling the fear of soldiers discovering us. Not wondering if a bullet will take one of us too soon from this Earth.”

Silence greeted her words. Then, in a low voice, he said, “Fear is the constant companion of every soldier. Those who don’t feel fear die too quickly and too young.” He put his hand over hers. “I regret you having to know it.”

“Those who don’t feel fear. What happens to them?”

“They take risks that are…unnecessary. Foolhardy. Reckless.”

“Then fear isn’t always a bad thing.”

“No. It has its place. It can make us stop and think, to find the correct path, not just the easiest one.” He took another bite of his bread, swallowed then continued. “On the battlefield fear, if harnessed properly, can help a man or an army win the day.”

She pulled her hand out from under his. “Then I wish fear had taught me its lessons sooner.”

He became very, very still. “Maria, what—”

“Perhaps I wouldn’t have been so reckless.”

“About what?”

She glanced at the cook, who was no doubt listening to every word they said. She took a deliberate step away from him. “Have you written your family yet?”

“No. There’s been little time.” He moved closer to her. “Are you all right?”

This was the last thing she wanted, to have him pity her.

She pinned a smile on her face. “I’m as fine as can be expected for someone who’s been terrified for several days running. I intend to write my family this morning. Then, after speaking with Major Davenport, I must make arrangements to return to England.”

John studied her face for a few seconds. “The major said he would be down for breakfast shortly. Shall I send someone for you when he appears?”

“Please.” She inclined her head and went back to her room. It wasn’t until she sat down on the bed that she noticed her hands were shaking.

Going home would make things right. She’d had little sleep or food in days, and the two of them had totally depended on each other for survival. It was little wonder she’d become so emotionally tied to John. Perhaps distance would allow her to think clearly and deal with her feelings.

Or make them stronger.

Paper, pen and ink sat on the dresser. She picked up a sheet and began her letter.

It seemed like only minutes later when someone knocked on her door and a female voice announced that breakfast was served in the dining room.

She’d written five pages and had started on the sixth.

Maria joined the major and John, filling her plate with eggs and more fresh bread smothered in preserves.

“Sleep well?” Major Davenport asked.

“Yes, thank you. Like the dead.”

His gaze jerked to her face and he stared for a moment before going back to his food.

He’d probably never heard a woman discuss death so openly or so soon after facing it. But, that was how she felt. Dead.

For a shining moment she’d had more to live for than most women. A man who loved and respected her, who valued her strength and wasn’t intimidated by it. A man who saw her as she really was.

A man, it turned out, who didn’t exist. The sight of the counterfeit sitting across the table from her was nearly enough to put her off the plate of delicious food in front of her.

John cleared his throat. “Sir, do you have any orders for me?”

“Indeed. You’re to return to England as soon as possible. The War Office wants a full report from you in person.” Major Davenport turned to look at Maria. “You as well, Nurse Hunt.”

“Why would they need me in person? I’m a nurse not a soldier. The lieutenant is far more qualified to discuss the details of our escape than I. Wouldn’t my written account be sufficient?”

The major considered her carefully. “Possibly.”

“I agree with Maria. But if her written account isn’t enough, the War Office can always recall her from her home or whichever hospital she’s working at.”

Major Davenport ate another bite of eggs. “I’ll cable the War Office and make your request. Can’t guarantee they’ll go along with it.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“There’s one other thing that needs to be done before we leave.” The diffident quality of John’s voice had her gut clenching into a fist. He was going to say something she wasn’t going to like.

“Oh?”

“I want to make it clear that Miss Hunt is my fiancée.”

She should have known he’d make his plan to marry her public, but she hadn’t expected him to do it quite so fast.

Davenport cleared his throat. “I see. Well, congratulations to you both.” He shook John’s hand and smiled pleasantly at Maria.

“I was wondering, sir, if you could do us the favour of arranging for us to be married posthaste? I know I’ll have to go back to the front and I would prefer my fiancée to have the protection of my name before we’re separated again.”

Maria had a million things to say, but none of them were fit to speak aloud.

She saw Davenport open his mouth to reply—to agree to this insanity she was sure—and she found her tongue. “Gentlemen, an important step has been overlooked.”

“Step?” the major asked.

“Indeed. Lieutenant Bennet has not
asked
for my hand in marriage.”

John’s jaw dropped. She’d surprised him and she wasn’t about to give up that advantage. “My answer is no.” She stood. “I’ll be in my room composing my report.”

With her head held high, she walked away from the table and the two shocked soldiers who obviously didn’t know how to combat a woman armed with words and wit.

It wasn’t long before someone knocked at her door.

She didn’t answer. She knew very well who it was and had no interest in speaking to him.

He knocked again.

She kept writing. The door and the man on the other side of it didn’t exist.

The door opened. He stepped inside and closed it behind himself.

She ignored him and focused on her report.

“Why?”

That brought her head up and around. “I heard you tell the major quite clearly that you wanted to marry me to salvage my reputation.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything.”

“I don’t understand. You said you loved me. I thought you’d be happy.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t ask me, you assumed.”

“Because I could see the fear on your face. You’re trying to run, but this isn’t something you can run from.”

“What do you think I’m running from?”

“Me. Us.”

As much as she’d like to contradict his statement, it was true. She turned to stare at the report she’d started.

“I love you.”

Her attention jerked back to him. “That changes nothing.”

“It changes everything.”

“You think you love me, but do you? Really? I won’t marry someone because his honour tells him it’s the right thing to do.”

“Honour has little to do with it.”

His words stabbed a bayonet into her heart. He believed what he said, she could hear the conviction in his voice, but would it stay that way?

“That’s easy to say now, in this place, but back in England, when time and distance have given you an opportunity to think about the last few days… Standing in your parent’s home, do you truly believe you’ll be able to say you love me with the same conviction?”

“Yes.” He seemed completely certain.

She couldn’t afford to feel hope. Hope was her one weakness. If she allowed herself to feel it and it was ripped from her, she wouldn’t survive.

She took in his new, clean uniform, his freshly shaved face, and said the three most hurtful words she could say. “I love you.”

His smile nearly blinded her. “I lo—”

She interrupted him by raising her hand, palm forward. “Enough to let you go.”

His smile died and the muscles in his jaw flexed. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

She shook her head.

He sighed. “Stop this. Stop hurting yourself. You’re the most selfless woman I’ve ever met. You’re allowed to be happy.”

“This isn’t about my happiness. It’s about doing what’s right.”

His tilted his head to one side. “That’s very important to you, doing the right thing.”

It wasn’t a question, not the way he phrased it, but she answered anyway. “Yes. The right thing, for the right reasons.”

He gazed at her for a while longer, a sad sort of smile now curving his lips. “You saved me you know. Many times and in ways I never would have imagined. I gave you my name the day we met. It’s still yours.” He stepped forward, plucked her hand off her lap, bowed low and kissed it. He looked at her, his face scant inches from hers and said in a husky whisper, “Remember that.”

Seconds later he was out the door, his footsteps echoing as he went down the stairs.

He was gone. Gone. Like she wanted.

Maria put her face in her hands and cried.

Chapter Twelve

London seemed loud and crowded compared to Brussels.

The War Office was housed in an imposing building on Horse Guards Avenue and Whitehall in London. The sheer size of it made Maria pause on the opposite side of the street. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that buildings couldn’t hurt her.

Unlike people.

The building didn’t get any less daunting on the inside. An endless supply of people walking with purpose made it difficult to focus on where she was to go.

Finally, a young Boy Scout was tasked with leading her to the office of one Captain Lawrence. They walked for so long it was a wonder they hadn’t left the city altogether. But, eventually, the scout led her to a quiet office off a backwater corridor.

He saluted her and left her standing in front of an empty desk.

She’d hoped to be spared this, but in all honesty, expected it. The British War Office was not known for leaving anything undone. Reports were their bread and butter, and hers was no simple retelling of an uncomplicated journey.

They likely had many questions and points to clarify.

A door opened and closed somewhere nearby. The clop of shoes against the floor told her that someone approached, but there was also another sound. One she heard in the hospital often enough to identify readily. A cane.

A woman turned the corner. She was young, about Maria’s age, with blond hair arranged in a surprisingly soft style off her shoulders. She walked with a pronounced limp and cane and had smile that would rival an angel’s.

The girl in John’s photo.

“Maria Hunt?”

“Yes?”

The young woman stopped a few feet away and laughed. “I’m so glad to meet you. Perhaps you could follow me to somewhere more private?”

“Of course.” Curiosity alone would have been motivation enough to follow.

She led Maria down the hallway she’d just come out of, then into a small office, where she closed the door. The desk here was covered in piles of paper, though they were all organized in a way that told Maria the person who worked here knew exactly what was in each pile.

The young woman smiled. “My name is Genevieve Bennet, I assist Captain Lawrence with his correspondence.” She swept a hand toward all the paper.

Maria glanced at the desk then back at Genevieve. “That is a lot of correspondence.”

“Indeed. I think my father and brother believe helping here will keep me out of trouble. What they don’t understand is how badly I want to aid our troops on the front lines. It’s why I wanted to meet you first, well one of the reasons anyway. I’m hoping you’ll tell me what it was like for you to work in a hospital.” Genevieve all but bounced on her seat.

“You’re John’s sister?”

She nodded with an expectant smile.

Maria didn’t know where to start. Should she talk about the German soldiers searching their hospital for any reason they could find to arrest them? The long hours in surgery? The dead they had to bury behind the buildings?

“It’s not exciting.” She meant to say more, but that’s all she managed to get out before her throat closed up.

Genevieve’s smile slowly died. “It isn’t?”

“No. I saw death nearly every day, and it became impossible to get the stain and smell of blood out of our clothes. Sometimes the German soldiers who came to search our hospital would take our food or even attempt to…assault us.”

The other woman now looked horrified.

“We often hid British or Belgian soldiers, and if we had gotten caught, we would have been shot. In fact, that’s why I had to leave and return to England. A German officer caught me hiding a British soldier.”

“So, everything Father said is true?”

“I don’t know what he told you, but it’s not romantic or heroic. It’s terrible and sad and frightening.” Maria cleared her throat. “Sometimes I wonder if I will ever feel safe again.”

“Thank you.” Genevieve stuck a smile on her face, but it was nowhere near as sunny as before. “I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you. John hasn’t stopped talking about you since he returned to England.”

“He hasn’t?” Could this get any worse?

When Maria didn’t say anything more, Genevieve’s grin turned rueful. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course, just…” What could she say to this sweet young woman who obviously believed in happy endings? “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I understand,” Genevieve said, getting to her feet and coming around the desk to hug Maria. “I’m so glad we’ve met. I can tell we’re going to be great friends.”

Maria did the only reasonable thing. She hugged her back and managed to present her with a watery smile. “Yes, great friends. I wonder, however, if you know what I’m to do next? I received a summons about answering questions regarding our flight from Belgium.”

At this, Genevieve clapped her hands together and laughed. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I insisted on speaking with you first. Stay right here and Captain Lawrence will be with you shortly.” She went out the door, the sound of her cane echoing for several seconds.

Maria sighed and stared at her hands. A great part of her wanted to leave. Finding out John had told his family about her hadn’t changed anything. She still couldn’t be with him. They were from two different parts of society, and society was unforgiving—no matter what John or Genevieve thought.

The door opened behind her and a large uniformed man filled the doorway. “Maria Hunt?”

She rose. “Yes.”

“Captain Lawrence.” He shook her hand.

“Please excuse the mess. Genevieve hasn’t had time to straighten all this out yet.”

“How long has she been working for you?”

“About a month.” Captain Lawrence went around the desk and sat, lifting papers until he found the ones he was looking for. “So. I’ve read your report. It’s well done, but I would like to ask some clarification questions and also for more detail on some of the events.”

“I shall answer as best I can.”

The next few hours were intellectually and emotionally draining. By the time their interview ended, Maria had a new respect for Captain Lawrence. The man was perceptive in a way few people could match.

“Would you be willing to write up the medical elements of your adventure for use in training stretcher-bearers and other Red Cross personnel?”

“Of course, but they were mostly common sense and old home remedies, not something I learned working at the hospital.”

Lawrence snorted at her response. “There’s nothing common about common sense.”

Eventually, he ran out of questions, put down his pen and stared at her for a moment. “You must be hungry.”

“Are we finished?”

“If you mean am I done asking you questions, no. But I’m done asking them for today. I’ve arranged lodging for you and trust you will find it comfortable. I expect you back here at nine o’clock in the morning. At that time we’ll discuss your thoughts on how we can support Nurse Culver’s activities.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stood and strode toward the door. “Wait a moment for your escort.”

“Certainly.”

She sat down to wait for whoever would escort her out of the maze of hallways, corridors and offices. She hoped they’d stop somewhere to buy a meal before taking her to her lodging.

The sound of booted footsteps gave her about three seconds warning before a man appeared in the doorway. But no amount of time could have prepared her for the impact of seeing him.

John
.

* * *

“Hello, Maria,” he said pleasantly, as if they were old friends and nothing more. “Let’s be off. I’m sure you’re starving. Lawrence doesn’t realize how much his interrogations take out of a person.”

“You’re my escort?” She looked as if someone had smacked her with a wet fish.

“Of course, come along.” He took a step out of the doorway then glanced over his shoulder.

She rose slowly and followed him down the corridor and out into the larger hallway. He stopped and offered her his arm, which she took after a short hesitation. Her touch went from light to tight as the number of people rushing about the building, all in a great hurry, grew significantly.

They exited through the main doors and he led her to a sleek black carriage pulled by a single black horse waiting at the curb. He helped her into the coach, took the seat next to her, and they were off.

She clasped her hands together, but he could still see how badly they shook.

“Have you been well?”

“Yes, thank you,” she answered in a rush. “Have you? How is your leg?”

“Excellent. The surgeon who examined it was impressed with your stitches and your treatment.” He flexed his leg to show her.

“Captain Lawrence made a similar comment, though I can’t imagine why.”

“You effectively treated a potentially dangerous wound under adverse conditions, that’s why.” Captain Lawrence wasn’t the only man who found her medical treatment to be interesting and valuable.

“Your recovery had as much to do with the condition and strength of the patient as the treatment.” There was pride and admiration all over her statement.

She did still love him.

A grin popped on to his face. “I do believe that’s the most interesting compliment I’ve ever been paid.”

She scowled at him and he had to resist laughing at her expression.

“May I ask where you’re taking me?”

“Certainly. The captain was adamant that you be housed in lodging appropriate to your station and in recognition of your contributions to England.”

Maria made a frustrated sound. “I don’t understand. I’ve done nothing worthy of recognition.”

“Luckily, there are a great many people who disagree with you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Have you been carrying tales?”

He chuckled and leaned toward her. “To everyone who would listen.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Ah, excellent. We’re here.”

“Here” was his family’s home in London.

“What is this place?”

“Your home away from home.” He jumped down from the carriage and held his hand out to her.

“Will you ever give me a proper answer?” she asked as she stepped down from the carriage.

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm again and they walked toward the front door. The door opened to reveal their butler, Giles, awaiting them.

“When have I ever given you an improper answer?” John asked as he took Maria’s battered cape, the same one she’d worn on their race to escape Belgium, and handed it to Giles.

Maria rolled her eyes and said pleasantly, “Would you like the entire list?”

He smiled at her and offered his arm again.

She sighed and took it.

He led her down a carpeted hallway and into a large drawing room where perhaps a dozen people were chatting, some seated, a few standing. All conversation ceased when John and Maria came to a stop inside the doorway.

“Father, Mother, all.” He bowed to the group, waved a hand at Maria and said, “Allow me to introduce Miss Maria Hunt, the nurse who saved my life…and hopefully the woman who will soon be my wife.”

Maria gaped at him and tried to pull her hand away

He refused to let her go.

No one spoke for several seconds, then his father got to his feet and approached them.

“You’re the young lady John has been telling us about, are you?” He gave Maria a look that would have had most men stuttering.

She raised her chin and looked him dead in the eyes. “I have no idea what John’s been saying about me.”

“You saved his life.”

She nodded once. “That’s true.”

“If it weren’t for you he’d have died of infection.”

“Also true.”

His father continued to glower at her. “A true heroine,” he said with more than a little sarcasm.

She snorted.
Snorted.
“Did he also tell you I made him sleep in a chicken coop? With the chickens?”

His father’s eyebrows rose and John nearly burst out laughing at his amazed expression.

“No, he didn’t mention that.”

She turned her narrowed gaze on him. “I’m sure he left out many things, such as the fact that I refused to marry him.”

That had his father’s jaw dropping. John found it to be merely irritating.

“Not that again.”

“Yes, that again.” She successfully yanked her hand away from him. “How dare you keep announcing to people that we’re engaged?”

“Because I won’t accept anything less than having you for my wife.”

“I will
not
be your wife.”

“Well I certainly won’t ask you to be my mistress.”

She smacked him.

“I want you for my wife for a very good reason.”

“What possible reason could you have?”

“You love me!” He hadn’t meant to yell it quite so loud, but her continual arguing made him somewhat angry.

Maria flinched, then she wrapped her dignity around herself and very deliberately said, “Irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant? It’s everything,”

“No, the girl is right,” his father said. “It’s only a valid reason if you love her as well.”

John threw his hands in the air. “I do.”

His father’s response was to look thoughtful and hum.

The room was silent as everyone waited expectantly for an explanation, until his cousin spoke to the gentleman beside her in French. “Her dress is hideous and her manner masculine. She wouldn’t last a day in society.”

Maria looked directly at her and said, also in French, “I regularly spend hours in surgery assisting in the amputation of limbs, removal of bullets and stitching of holes no man should ever have in his body.” She drew herself up and settled an unseen mantle on her shoulders. “In my world, you wouldn’t last an hour.” She gazed at the roomful of shocked faces then turned on her heel and walked out.

“Maria, wait.” John grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop in the hallway. “I’m sorry. My cousin Stella is something of a spoiled brat.”

She shook her head and attempted to pull her hand loose.

He held tight and urged her to follow him into his father’s office. “Please give me a chance to explain.”

He closed the door behind them and finally let go of her hand. She walked backward toward a small settee and sat on the very edge. Her face was flushed and her small hands were curled into fists.