Summerset Abbey: Spring Awakening (Summerset Abbey Trilogy) (19 page)

The largest threat came from hitting obstacles as one landed, such as trees or buildings. Suddenly, for the first time since she’d first installed herself in a cockpit, that threat felt all too immediate.

But she couldn’t let her confidence waver. She had to get the aeroplane safely to its destination. Dirkes was, for the most part, a modern man, but he wouldn’t hesitate to take her off the roster if she wrecked an aeroplane, Rowena reminded herself. Not only was it a valuable piece of machinery bought and paid for by the Crown, but his sense of protective chivalry would kick in and he would ground her for her protection. She’d be damned if she was going to lose everything now. Not after she had worked so hard to win the respect of Mr. Dirkes and the men in his employ, and especially not after she’d achieved a level of self-respect that buoyed her spirits. She could never return to her old life now that she’d experienced what it was like to have a real purpose, to rise to a challenge and face it head-on, to awake in the morning ready for tasks infinitely more consequential than dressing for luncheon.

The ground had never before rushed up to meet her so
quickly. Her stomach flew up into her throat, and the landing jarred her so badly she cried out and bit her tongue. Hard. The taste of fear and blood filled her mouth as she brought the aeroplane to an abrupt halt. She sat in the cockpit, battered by the wind and rain, her heart pounding in her ears.

As she slowly caught her breath, relieved to be on the ground despite how harsh a landing it had been, it dawned on her that she was still in danger and could die of exposure if she didn’t find some kind of shelter.

She looked around but saw only empty space. No trees or rocks to huddle under, thankfully. Had there been a tree . . . she shuddered to think about it. Briefly she thought about seeking shelter under the plane, but quickly discarded that idea. An idea came to her and she grabbed her valise and left the cockpit and made her treacherous way to the passenger pit. It was directly under the upper wings and therefore more protected against the elements.

Taking her long driving coat out of the valise, she scooted as far down onto the floor as she could and draped the coat over the top of the pit. The material wasn’t waterproof, but it was heavy and would hopefully keep her dry for a bit.

Not that she could be considered dry by any definition. Keeping the coat from blowing off with one hand, she pulled her wet goggles off with the other. She dropped the goggles to the floor, but left her leather cap on to help keep her warm. Still holding her driving coat in place with one hand she felt into her valise until she found her change of clothes. She wiped her face with her linen blouse, then stuffed it down the front of her leather jacket to help insulate her body.

Reaching back into the valise, she then took the extra skirt and wadded it up to make a pillow. Tucking one side of the coat
under the pillow, she laid her head against it to keep it in place. With one coat arm tied around one of the rigging wires, it kept out the wind and the rain.

At first she shook with cold and fear as she thought about how close she had come to crashing the aeroplane. Soon, however, her body heated the small space and she was, if not warm, at least not quite so chilled. As she subtly rocked herself back and forth to keep warm, she couldn’t help but let a troubling thought creep into her mind:
What would Victoria do if I died?
It was just the two of them now that their father had died. They had Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Conrad, of course, but just as Summerset, no matter how beloved, could never replace their Mayfair home, their uncle’s family could never replace their own little family. She, Victoria, and Prudence were the only ones left that remembered what a happy house they had been raised in.

Prudence.

Rowena’s heart ached and her cheeks heated with shame as she once again thought of how she had treated Prudence and how she was still taking the coward’s way out by avoiding her. She knew Prudence was angry, but wasn’t facing the conflict and being yelled at better than losing her sister? She resolved to go to Prudence the next time she was in London and beg her forgiveness. Prudence might never absolve her, but at least she would have tried.

Rowena felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Closing her eyes, she settled herself more comfortably against the seat and waited for the storm to pass.

P
rudence went about her morning chores, her heart as heavy as her steps. Instead of spending the holidays with a loving husband, she was alone, wondering if her husband still loved her or would ever forgive her. Muriel and Katie had invited her to spend the holiday with them, and rather reluctantly she’d agreed. She almost felt that she should stay home alone, that she should be punished for what she had done—as if not hearing from her husband for weeks now wasn’t punishment enough.

But finally she decided to join Katie, Muriel, and their borders for a festive, albeit feminine, Christmas. She planned on going over as soon as she finished the washing. No one else in the building would be doing their clothes on Christmas, and she would have the basement to herself.

As always, the dank basement gave her chills, and doing the wash drove her wild with impatience. She couldn’t imagine what it was going to be like to add nappies. She prayed that before she had too many more children they would be able to hire some help.

Her stomach tightened. If her husband returned from the war.

She pored over the newspaper obituaries with the morbid
fascination of a hypochondriac studying a pharmacopoeia. She cringed whenever she read the names of young men she had known growing up. She wondered if they had married and what their deaths would mean to their families.

Pushing her morbid thoughts from her mind, she rinsed the wash and ran it through the wringer. She consoled herself with the knowledge that at least Andrew wasn’t on the front. He was as safe as he could possibly be, given the circumstances. Prudence rolled the items into small wet packets and put them all in her laundry basket. Going up and down two flights of stairs took a lot more of her energy than it used to.

She climbed the stairs, mindful of her steps. She wasn’t too large yet, though it did look rather as if she had a rugby ball under her skirt, but her balance was off and the last thing she wanted was to take a tumble down the stairs.

Once back in her flat, she strung the line across their small living area and added a bit more coal to the fire. Prudence was to bring a plum pud for dinner, but knowing her rudimentary cooking skills, Muriel had instructed her to buy the pudding premade and simply boil it at home. After checking to make sure plenty of water was in the pot, she walked to the window and stared down at the street. Occasionally, a motorcar would pass, probably taking its occupants to a family holiday feast somewhere.

Restlessly, she drummed her fingers against the cold glass, wondering why she felt so jittery. She blew on the window, watching it fog up and then disappear as the room grew warmer. Even though she’d originally been relieved to have somewhere to go for Christmas, now she found herself wishing she could just stay home.

You’re just being contrary
, she chided herself. The pregnancy
was doing it to her. She looked down. “Stop it, Horace,” she told her rugby ball. “You’re not even born and you’re making your poor mama cranky.” She caressed her stomach lovingly. “I’m sorry, Horace.” She sighed. “None of this is your fault.”

A posh motorcar rolled up in front of the greengrocer below her flat, and she watched it curiously. Surely the driver knew that stores were all closed today?

A woman stepped out and Prudence gave a small, joyous cry. She’d know Victoria’s diminutive figure anywhere. She was about to turn away from the window when a wash of cold swept over her as if she’d been caught in an ice storm. She knew something was wrong by the way Victoria’s fine head tilted to look up at her window. Prudence swallowed and raised a hand before turning toward the door.

What was Victoria doing here? Last she’d heard, Victoria was going to be spending the holidays in a hospital in France. Had she returned early? If so, why wasn’t she at Summerset with the rest of the family?

Rowena
.

Prudence’s stomach dropped. Rowena had probably crashed in one of those stupid aeroplanes she was always flying about in. Why had such reckless folly even been allowed? But more important . . . why had Prudence been so hard-hearted? What if she never had the chance to tell Rowena that she loved her, in spite of being so angry with her? Because she did love her, of course she did.

She reached the door just as Victoria stepped onto the landing. Panic tightened Prudence’s throat at the sight of Victoria’s white face and worried blue eyes.

Prudence’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Is it Rowena?” she asked in a whisper.

Victoria shook her head. “Oh, my dear, you are going to have to be strong.”

Prudence clutched at the doorjamb, not wanting to hear whatever was going to come out of Victoria’s mouth next.

“It’s Andrew, he’s—”

Prudence screamed and black spots erupted in front of her eyes.

“No!” Victoria cried out, grabbing hold of Prudence.

Prudence let Victoria lead her to the chair next to the stove. Clutching Prudence’s hand, Victoria said urgently, “Don’t panic, Pru. He’s alive, but just barely. He’ll be all right . . . eventually.”

Prudence collapsed into the chair and closed her eyes as she clung to Victoria’s hand. He was alive. That was all that mattered. “You said
eventually
. What is wrong? Where is he? This wasn’t supposed to happen! Not in the remount depot.” She looked at Victoria, begging her to say differently.

“I’m so sorry. He volunteered to take a string of mules to an encampment near the front. An enemy scouting group must have stumbled right over him.”

Prudence’s heart chilled as she imagined the scene in her head. “He was shot?”

Victoria nodded. “Several times.”

Prudence whimpered. “How badly?”

Victoria didn’t mince words. “It’s bad. He was shot in the side, but the bullet went straight through, thank God. It was the other wound that almost killed him.”

Prudence strangled Victoria’s hand with her own and waited.

“Be strong, Prudence.” Prudence breathed in deeply. “Andrew lost his leg.”

Dizziness overcame her and she shut her eyes, strangling a scream about to erupt once again. If she started screaming, she
didn’t know if she would ever stop. Everything they had worked so hard for was gone. How could he be a veterinarian with only one leg? Teach Horace how to play ball? He’d lose his job at the docks, at the very least, although she realized that there had never been a guarantee it would be waiting for him when he came back from the war.

She put her hands over her face and wept. Her fault. All her fault. She had interfered and look what had happened. She had manipulated fate. This was God’s way of punishing her, and poor Andrew had to suffer for it. “Where is he now?”

“He is at the hospital where I worked before leaving for France. I had to pull some strings to get him in because it’s for officers, but I think it’s the best place for him.”

Prudence’s head jerked up, her heart pounding. “He’s here? In London?”

Victoria nodded. “Yes, I’ve come to fetch you. He needs to see you. He’s not well.”

Prudence stood. “No, of course not. But he’ll be fine?”

“The doctors say so, but . . .”

Prudence stiffened. “But what?” What else could there possibly be?

Victoria hesitated. “It’s going to be a long recovery. Both in body and in spirit.”

Prudence nodded. It would be fine. As long as she could be with him, he would be fine. He was alive, and unlike so many other men with lesser wounds, he wouldn’t be going back to the front. “Can I see him?”

Victoria nodded. “My driver is waiting outside to take us to the hospital.”

Prudence rose to get her things, but then froze as her baby fluttered inside, as restless as his mother.

“Are you all right?” Victoria asked anxiously.

Prudence bit her lip and nodded. “I think so.”

She buttoned her coat tightly and added a scarf. Just before she walked out the door, she took the pud off the stove. She would send word to Muriel and Katie later. They would worry otherwise. Her mind took care of all these details, but inside, her grief raged like a storm and the hands that picked up her handbag and locked the door so carefully behind them wanted to pound on the wall in desperation like a child.

Calmly, she followed Victoria to the motorcar and climbed inside. Calmly, she asked the right questions concerning his wounds and his recovery. Apparently, Victoria had found Andrew quite by accident when he was coming in from the field dressing station. He had burned with fever from an infection in his leg. They had thought he wasn’t going to make it, but he had rallied and pulled through. As soon as he was strong enough to move, Victoria had made all necessary arrangements and asked for and received permission to travel with him. He was, after all, her brother-in-law. She grinned at Prudence when she said this, but all Prudence could muster in return was a grateful squeeze of Victoria’s hand.