Summerset Abbey: Spring Awakening (Summerset Abbey Trilogy) (24 page)

Both Prudence and Andrew stared at Eleanor until she laughed. “What? I worked in a prison for years. Victoria didn’t tell you how overbearing I am? Just you wait. You’ll be sorry for asking me to help.”

Andrew gave a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just out of sorts.”

“Don’t apologize to me, just eat the damn tart.”

Prudence hid a smile as she made a pot of coffee and plated three healthy pieces of tart. She almost wished Eleanor were staying indefinitely. It would be easier to face Andrew with someone else around.

After they ate, Eleanor decided that Andrew must rest, and Prudence agreed. Her husband, though not as gaunt as the first time she’d seen him, looked worn and pale about the edges.

Eleanor gave Prudence a lesson in helping her husband from a sitting to a standing position. “Use your back not your legs,” she instructed, making sure Prudence’s arm was under Andrew’s correctly. It was the most intimate moment they’d shared in a month, since she’d held his hand when they were first reunited at the hospital. Part of her just wanted to wrap her arms around him, and the other part shrank at the thought.

What was wrong with her? It wasn’t even that he was missing a limb—she just felt so terribly guilty. It ate away at her insides, and if she were to hold him and be held by him, she might just fall apart at the seams.

And falling apart wasn’t an option.

Eleanor helped Andrew get ready for bed, and by the time Prudence had done the dishes, Andrew was already asleep.

“He’s going to be fine,” Eleanor said, coming back into the
room. “He will be able to do a lot more by himself than you think, though you are going to have to make sure he doesn’t overdo it.” Eleanor settled down into a chair with a sigh of relief. “I’ve been on my feet all day.”

“I’m sorry. Thank you for helping us tonight. I feel guilty asking for your help after you’ve worked a full day already. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help. And we have a lot to go over, so don’t thank me yet. Patients who lose limbs fall into two groups, those who become completely helpless, and those who do too much on their own and end up reinjuring themselves. I believe your husband is going to fall into the second camp. He won’t want to ask you for help and will get cross when you offer.”

Prudence poured them both a bit more coffee and sat across from Eleanor. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“I tell my other families to be patient with their patient, but in your case, I don’t want you to be too patient. He simply cannot be allowed to give you too much grief.”

“No, I don’t mind, really,” Prudence interjected, but Eleanor shook her head.

“It isn’t good for the baby or for you.” Eleanor leaned forward, her blue eyes alight with sympathy. “I know the story behind this, so I know you must be feeling terrible right now, but, Prudence, this isn’t your fault. It is happening to men everywhere. The war is not your fault, and that is why your husband is in there right now without a leg. The war. Not because you were trying to keep him safe.”

Prudence gazed down at her hands. Her thoughts spun around in her head accompanied by emotions so strong she could hardly make sense of them. “I understand what you are
saying,” she said slowly, trying to articulate what she was feeling. “It does make sense, but . . .” She hesitated.

“But you can’t help feeling the way you feel, right?” Eleanor asked, her voice compassionate.

Prudence shrugged helplessly. “How do you make yourself stop feeling something? I can’t help but feel that if I hadn’t interfered, he might still be whole.”

“Or he might be dead. Have you ever thought of that?”

An infinite sadness washed over her. “I think of it all the time. But I will never know, will I?”

*  *  *

Victoria watched the black French lorry pass by the window of her cramped room with the same sense of foreboding she always felt when she saw it. The long nose with the giant grille and the enormous rectangle of windscreen glass split down the middle made it look like an immense and predatory raven. Victoria murmured:

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster,

followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of “Never—nevermore.”

That feeling was only exacerbated because its cargo consisted of dead soldiers, picked up at some French village that had been caught in the line of fire. Whenever she spotted the lorry with its sorrowful and macabre contents, a spurt of fear shuddered through her and she thought of Kit.

She still prayed for his safety every morning and every night.
She knew he was still alive as Cousin Colin had mentioned seeing him in his last letter to her. She’d read the lines over and over:
Ran into Kit not long ago. We shared a drink in the officers’ tent and he asked after you and Rowena. He looks good, though thin, and is still as irreverent as ever
.

She’d been deliriously happy until she saw the postmark and realized the letter had taken four weeks to reach her. So all she knew was that Kit had been safe at some point not too long ago. She didn’t know for sure if he, or Colin for that matter, was still safe. The uncertainty—the constant wondering and worrying—was slowly fraying her nerves to shreds. She didn’t know how much longer she could take it.

She longed to ask Colin if Kit had mentioned her letter . . . but she thought better of it. If Kit wanted to reach out to her, he would do so. She pulled the quilt from her bed and wrapped it about her shoulders. Coal was scarce, and the only time Victoria was warm was when she sat next to the stove downstairs in the common area or when she was at work.

It was her day off, but she would probably walk back to the hospital this afternoon anyway. What else were you supposed to do in a country besieged with war but help in any and every way that you possibly could, at every waking moment? She borrowed books from the landlady and wrote letters, but invariably she would find herself wandering back to the hospital to chat with the men, to pen notes for those who could not, or to recite poetry to keep their minds off their injuries. Gladys was on duty today, so she had the room to herself, which left her both frozen and quite alone with her thoughts.

Beneath her window, she spotted Gladys hurrying up the walk. Frowning Victoria threw off her quilt and hurried down to meet her.

“Is something wrong?” she cried, coming down the stairs. The hospital staff lived in fear that the Germans would reach their hospital and they would have to evacuate. No one really expected it this far from the front, especially since both sides were waiting until spring for a big offensive, but these were such uncertain times that Victoria was always on guard, expecting the worst.

Gladys’s eyes widened. “Nothing. We got our mail early and I needed a break. I thought you might like your letters.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” Victoria took the proffered bundle and then frowned at her roommate. “Are you all right?” Victoria worried about Gladys, who often cried herself to sleep at night and whose pretty mouth was constantly pinched together as if she had to work hard not to scream out loud.

Gladys nodded. “As right as I’ll be until I’m safe in my own bed at home. Lord, I think I’ll sleep a week.”

“Do you want some tea or coffee before heading back?” When Gladys shook her head, Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to dive right into her mail.

“No, they’ll be wondering where I am if I’m gone for too much longer. Are you stopping in later?”

Victoria nodded, and her roommate turned to make the trek back to the hospital. Victoria clutched her precious package to her chest, free to read her letters in peace. “Eloise, is there any tea or coffee?”

The landlady and her young niece were already busy in the kitchen making a meal for some of the boarders. The military people usually ate at the mess hall, but a handful of boarders in the huge house were not affiliated with the army, but rather were moneyed refugees who had fled the fighting. Eloise nodded toward the woodstove. “There is still some left from breakfast, I think. If not fresh, you tell me. I make more.”

Eloise liked Victoria because they shared a love of books and Victoria could converse as easily in French as she could in English.

Victoria poured her coffee and sat at the long wooden table in the kitchen. The kitchen was typically French with white tiles on the floor, an enormous porcelain double sink, low, dark-stained beams, and whitewashed walls. It was the cheeriest room in the house, and Victoria far preferred it to the formal and rather dank sitting room the guests were supposed to use.

She looked through her letters, recognizing Elaine’s neat handwriting and her aunt’s flowery cursive. Then her heart thudded as she read the name on the third letter.

Kit.

She stared at the neat block letters, wondering why she wasn’t ripping it open. It occurred to her that she was afraid of finding out what it contained. She took a sip of her coffee and discovered that her hand was trembling.

“Is the coffee good?” Eloise asked, handing her a letter opener.

Victoria blinked and stared at the opener blankly for a moment. “The coffee is fine, thank you.”

Not yet ready to face the contents of Kit’s letter, she avoided it as if it were a gun shell and took up Elaine’s instead. It took her several tries to actually see the letters, but soon she could almost hear her cousin’s sweet, carefree voice.

Dear Vic,

The holidays were grim and sad and rather gruesome as you can expect for such a time. Everyone tried to make merry and not talk about the war because there were so many women here—wives and mothers of soldiers either recently fallen or fighting on the front. But of course, that’s
what everyone was thinking about, so conversation not only didn’t sparkle, it was as dull as lead. Understandable, truly, but still vexing when one remembers all the good times we used to have. Especially last year when you and Rowena were with us and all the boys were here. Remember the fight at the servants’ ball? There was no dancing this year, or fun at all. Listen to me complaining while you are stuck in a hospital and our boys are fighting so bravely on the front. You will think me quite shallow, and that is not the case. Well, it is, but I am not as bad as all that . . . I just wish we could go back to a time where everyone was safe.

And I saved the best news for last. . . . I am going to be an aunt! Yes, Annalisa is expecting a baby. I should have known, she has been getting so round, but I thought she was just stuffing biscuits and tea cakes into her mouth because she was worried about Colin, and honestly, she has always been on the plump side. (Like I have room to talk!) But, no, she is going to have a baby and I will no doubt be punished for my uncharitable thoughts. But at least a baby is something to look forward to, and God knows we could all use something to look forward to. I think back on my life and have so many regrets and things I would have done differently had I only known the entire world was going to change in just a few short years. But there, I am getting melancholy and I am supposed to be cheering you up.

Just remember, I love you and think you are ever so brave. I wish I were half so bold . . . if I were, I would tell Mother to go rub salt and find something useful to do with myself. But I am not, so I will remain always your incredibly bored and frivolous cousin.

Elaine

Victoria blinked back tears. Poor Elaine. While Victoria was certain that her aunt loved her daughter, Aunt Charlotte was always so hard on her. She wondered if there was any way to persuade Elaine to move into the city with her when she was finished with her stint here. Probably not. Aunt Charlotte hadn’t even let Elaine visit yet. Sooner or later Lainey was going to have to stand up to her mother. Victoria just hoped it wasn’t when she was around to witness the inevitable fallout.

Still unwilling to face the letter from Kit, she reached for Aunt Charlotte’s.

Dear Victoria,

As I am sure my daughter told you, the holidays were a poor imitation of the festive events we used to have, but unlike my daughter, I know what propriety is, and making merry when young men are dying is not appropriate. Elaine should be ashamed of herself for complaining, but what can one expect? She is as dizzy as you are but without your intellect.

Of course, I have to wonder about your intelligence considering your behavior over the holidays. You wrote and assured me that you would come to Summerset for Christmas if you could but absolutely could not leave the hospital. Then your uncle tells me that you took the time to accompany a former employee of ours to London and spent the holiday at your flat? What sort of nonsense was that?

I must tell you, my dear, I am rather hurt by your callous actions. Could no one else accompany a sick footman? Could you not spare the time to have your driver bring you to Summerset? If only for a few hours? It would have made your uncle and cousin very happy during this dark time.

There. I have said my piece and will speak no more about it. I just want you to think, my dear, how your actions are perceived by others, that’s all. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not remind you of this.

I did want to let you know that I will be spending the next few weeks in London. We are opening up the house for a time. Colin may be getting a short leave, and it would be easier for him to see us in London, and my dear Annalisa misses him so. It only seemed fair.

Perhaps you could stop and see us when you are in London. If you are not too busy.

Love,

Aunt Charlotte

Victoria shivered and shoved the letter away from her. That woman was as poisonous as a cobra. And like a cobra, her beauty didn’t make her any less deadly.

Victoria stared at Kit’s letter, longing and fear warring in her heart. What if he told her he’d had enough of her? That she didn’t know her own mind and he couldn’t love anyone so indecisive. Oh, bother. She wasn’t indecisive. She made snap decisions all the time, life-changing decisions. She just changed her mind often, given that she didn’t always consider the consequences of her choices. He
knew
what she was like when he’d met her and had fallen in love with her anyway. Just as she knew he was vain, irreverent, contrary, and a horrible tease. It was no wonder it took her so long to realize that she truly loved him back—the man was an absolute wretch.