Where Love Shines (11 page)

“Jennifer, we shall be late.” Amelia Neville’s voice cut through her daughter’s reverie.

Jenny gave one last look at the soft swirls of her rich brown hair in the looking glass before tying her bonnet securely under her chin. She hurried to meet her mother. Attending Lady Eccleson’s drawing room might not be synonymous with service to God, but Jennifer would not care to be the person to tell her ladyship so.

The trees along Queen Anne Street shone a bright red and gold, and fallen leaves crunched beneath the carriage wheels. Jennifer smiled and breathed deeply. This was her favorite time of the year. Then the bright beauty of the scene brought a crimp to her heart. If only Richard could see it. He could look at the trees at night and discern their shapes, but he could not bear the pain of seeing them in their beauty.
Help him Lord, and help me to help him.
With that quick, informal sentence, she realized she had not prayed instinctively like that since leaving Scutari. Was that what the earl had meant by a personal relationship with God? Rather than relying on the prayers in the prayer book and those led by her father, could she develop a closeness with the Almighty that allowed her to speak to Him as if He were in the same room at all times?

At Lady Eccleson’s they were greeted, not by the pale, silent Branman, but by an effusive Livvy. “Jenny, where have you been keeping yourself? I’ve been longing to talk to you. Oh, isn’t it the most divine day! You can have no notion how this makes me long to be in my beloved Newcastle—the Brampton is a blaze of color right now. And children build leaf forts, and the squirrels scurry everywhere, and—” Her headlong rush had carried them to the parlor. She paused, took a deep breath, and entered with suitable decorum. “Aunt Charlotte, Mrs. and Miss Neville have arrived.”

The purpose of the meeting was to discuss the plans of the Committee for Bettering the Condition of the Deserving Poor in All Souls Parish, but since this was an informal discussion rather than an official meeting, tea was served first. “Aunt Charlotte’s cook makes the world’s most divine tea cakes.” Livvy licked the melted butter off her fingers. She had chosen seats in the farthest corner of the room so she could continue her narrative to Jenny somewhat unchecked. “I’ve been so anxious to tell you. Last week I sent one of the footmen around to Horse Guards to inquire about Legend.”

If Jennifer’s hands hadn’t been filled with her cup and saucer, she would have clapped them. “Oh, tell me.”

“Well, unfortunately I didn’t really learn anything, but the officer on duty said that I might call in person at my convenience for further inquiry. I thought we might go today. Mama is quite complaisant about my going out in Aunt Charlotte’s carriage.”

Jennifer was more than willing to go with Livvy rather than Arthur. “If only Richard could go with us. The air is so invigorating. And I’m certain he could obtain more information than we could.”

Livvy sighed. “If only he would. He’s been like a caged animal these past days. He goes for long rambles at night and then attempts to sleep much of the day. But the plan doesn’t seem to be working well. He won’t allow anyone to accompany him, but he returns with his clothes torn and dirty so that we know he has been bumping into things. Last Saturday he had a dreadful bruise on his forehead, and just yesterday his cheek was gashed and bleeding. Yet he is quite determined.”

“But is there no way he can go out in the light?”

“He went to a new doctor two days ago. Dr. Halston gave him a pair of dark glasses. He thought they would help.”

“And have they?”

“I’m not certain Dick has tried them out. I’m—” She paused as if choosing her words carefully, which was unusual for Livvy. “I’m not certain it’s just his eyes.”

“Then what?”

“I think it may be the scarring. I suppose it might be quite alarming to one unprepared, although I never think of it. But Dick may dread facing the reaction of others as much as he dreads the pain of the light.”

Jennifer set her teacup down with a clink. “Then we must see what may be done.” She was no longer in an elegant drawing room, but back in the Barracks Hospital, ready to meet the emergency of a new case. Upon Jennifer’s request to be excused, Lady Eccleson dismissed the young ladies with a nod.

Livvy led up the stairs and down a corridor to Richard’s room. She hesitated before knocking. “He might not be prepared to receive visitors.”

“It would not be my first time to see him in bed.” Jennifer straightened her back as she often had at Scutari before marching into a ward.

Livvy’s knock was answered by a short bald man with a ruddy complexion. “Please tell my brother he has visitors, Kirkham.” It was clear that Livvy would have swept on in, but the sturdy Kirkham would have none of it.

“I shall enquire whether hit’s convenient for Lieutenant Greyston, ma’am,” he replied in a stiff nasal voice and left the door open only an inch.

Livvy grinned. “You haven’t met Kirkham, have you? He was Dick’s batman in the Crimea. Showed up on the doorstep almost weeping a few days ago. He had thought Dick dead. Says he can never forgive himself for not attending him in hospital. Now he seems quite determined to make up for lost time. Guards Dick like a bulldog. How Dick manages to escape him on his evening rambles I can’t imagine—except that as a well-trained military servant, Kirkham will take orders.”

The stalwart Kirkham was back in a moment. “Hit’s not convenient, ma’am.” He bowed and started to close the door.

But Kirkham had reckoned without one of Florence Nightingale’s angels. Through the narrow opening Jennifer had seen Richard in the next room, his back to the doorway, standing in statue-like stiffness. She put her calfskin-shod foot in the doorway and pushed gently but firmly with a gloved hand. “That is regrettable. It is not convenient for me to be turned away.”

Richard did not turn toward her voice. But he did not walk away. His stillness was like one not breathing.

Jennifer swept across the sitting room and into the bedroom where Richard stood. She turned to face him so abruptly that the crinolined skirt of her dark green afternoon dress swung like a bell. Richard started to turn toward the wall, but she grasped his hand, as much from long habit as from any calculated plan.

The light in the room was moderate, considerably more revealing than that in the library had been on her first visit. Richard looked her direction through nearly closed eyes. Livvy had not overstated. Jagged, puckered lines ravaged his once-handsome face. But the burn scars covering the upper part of his face did not hurt her nearly so much as the pain and bitterness she saw on his tightly-clamped fine mouth.

“Well, sir, I am most gratified to see that your wounds have healed satisfactorily. And your vanity should be pleased that your hair has returned with vigor.” She suppressed an unladylike urge to touch the springy golden curls, not because the gesture would be unladylike, but because she dared not let loose of his hand for fear he would move away from her.

“I am pleased to give satisfaction. I rather fear, however, that someone without your medical interest might be less gratified.”

Jennifer ignored that. “Livvy and I have come to seek your escort. We are going to Horse Guards on an errand of interest to you.”

“I am told the sun is very bright today.”

“Indeed, it is an exceedingly lovely day—one of autumn gold, a poet might say. Therefore it is most fortunate that your physician has supplied you with shaded glasses.”

“Kirkham will provide you escort. It is not convenient for me—”

“It is not convenient for me to be escorted by Kirkham.” She thought she saw the slightest hint of a smile cross his lips.

The detached, ramrod stiffness held for several seconds and then crumbled with his brittle laugh. “Oh, dash it. Why weren’t you at Balaclava to order Cardigan around? You might have spared us the trouble of charging those blasted guns.” He raised his voice. “Kirkham, fetch my hat and bring the carriage around. It seems we are going out.” He turned back to Jennifer. “Will it be ‘convenient’ for you to be driven by Kirkham?”

“It will be most convenient.” She was certain he could hear the smile in her voice if he couldn’t see it on her lips.

He turned to grope among the articles lying on a small table. When the glasses hit the floor along with several other objects, he swore under his breath. Jennifer’s instinct was to dash forward to pick them up for him, but she checked herself just in time. He found them and turned toward her with them on.

For the first time Jenny had to restrain her impulse to gasp. ‘Dark glasses’ had been a misnomer. Dr. Halston had supplied his patient with black eye patches. Certainly they would keep out any painful light, but they would prevent Dick from seeing anything. Now she questioned her forwardness. Would he face further humiliation that would make future outings more difficult?

She had gone this far, however, and there was no graceful way of going back. She took his arm, not as one leads the sightless, but as any lady preparing to stroll in the park on the arm of a gentleman. “Excellent. Let us proceed.” And she lifted her chin a good two inches higher—a trick that had bolstered her confidence down many a long, dark corridor in Scutari.

Livvy grasped Dick’s other arm with both hands and gave a delighted squeal as she propelled them all forward, obviously taking no thought for the comfort of a man walking in total darkness. But her enthusiasm got them over any awkwardness Richard or Jennifer may have felt.

Kirkham had Lady Eccleson’s closed carriage with the gold coronet on its shiny black doors waiting at the end of the walk. All the way down Oxford and Regent Streets and across The Mall Jennifer kept up a bright narrative describing the traffic and people filling the congested streets and the beauty of the autumn foliage. Beside her in the swaying carriage, Richard seemed to relax a bit.

But when the carriage rolled between the two red-coated cavalry officers of the Royal Horse Guards facing Whitehall, she felt him stiffen again. Lieutenant Greyston would not wish to appear pitiable before any of the men with whom he had served. Nor did he wish to hear the bad news they were certain to receive, for between Jennifer’s travelogue descriptions, Livvy had chattered enthusiastically about the purpose of their mission. Now her nervousness led her to run on unchecked. “I hope you won’t be too disappointed, Dick, if we learn the worst. Jenny and I have quite faced the fact that this is a dreadfully long shot, and you must, too, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if Legend had been recovered? And if we learn the worst, then you’ll know you must look for another horse. Wouldn’t it be a fine thing to go riding in Hyde Park on a day like this? Not as fine as riding across the fields in the Midlands, of course, but quite fine. Do you ride, Jennifer? I’ve never heard you say. If we could acquire mounts, we could get up a party.” Fortunately she never paused long enough for anyone to be required to answer her.

Inside the cool stone halls of Horse Guards, Dick pulled his black patches off along with his tall black hat. Jennifer was glad the light was relatively dim in there, for she knew he would endure severe pain rather than appear in eye patches. She led him to the desk of a red-coated duty officer. “Sir, madam.” The young man came sharply to his feet.

“Lieutenant Richard Greyston, formerly of the 17th Lancers.” Dick halted halfway to a salute. “We’ve come to inquire about the fate of a horse at the Battle of Balaclava.”

Jennifer was glad Richard was spared the look on the young man’s face as he shook his head. “Awful mess that was, sir. More than five hundred horses killed. But then I expect you know all that.” He glanced at Richard’s scars. “We do have one fellow here who might be able to help you. If you’d care to take a seat.” He gestured to a bench along the wall, and Jennifer moved toward it. Already she was gaining confidence in her ability to lead without propelling.

But this time her confidence had come too soon. Richard crashed into the bench with a blow that must have been painful to his shins and then miscalculated in sitting down and half sat on the narrow wooden arm. “Take your time. Feel with the backs of your legs before sitting.” Jennifer made no attempt to keep the nannying tone out of her voice. She had learned in Scutari that it could often be her most useful tool when she wanted her words to be accepted as a matter of course.

They waited several minutes before the long stone corridor echoed with the clipped stride of booted feet. “Greyston, my dear fellow.”

Richard rose and turned in the direction of the speaker but did not reply. The blue-coated man clasped Richard’s outstretched hand with his left hand. Jennifer saw that his right arm hung stiffly at an awkward angle. “Don’t tell me that this scar has so ruined my beauty you don’t recognize your old captain.”

Richard broke into the brightest smile Jennifer had yet seen from him. Truth to tell, she had seen very few. “Morris! I didn’t dare hope. You were right ahead of me when that shell exploded.”

“Took that in my arm.” Morris jerked his head toward his right elbow. “Then Crusader went down, and I took a cutlass thrust in the head. Thought I was done for, but my wife was out there. She got me home for nursing a few days later.” He paused and looked at Dick. “That shell didn’t do much more for your beauty than the cutlass did for mine, did it? But we’re beastly lucky to be here, even if desk duty is all I’m good for now.” He gave Richard a hearty slap on the back. “What can I do for you?”

“Trying to trace what became of my horse. You remember Legend?”

Morris laughed. “That big black brute? How could I forget the ugliest horse in the 17th Lancers?” Then the captain turned serious. “I did see him briefly. I had crawled to a ditch at the bottom of the hill behind the guns. Thought I was done for, happy to find a peaceful spot to make my last. Then this battle-crazed horse thundered by, eyes bulging and nostrils flaring. Had the feeling he was following someone—probably an officer.”

Morris suddenly seemed to recall Jennifer and Livvy’s presence and turned to them. “You see how it is, ladies, when a horse trained for battle loses his rider, he won’t run for safety. He’ll look for leadership—run right toward the fiercest action. Riderless horses added a blasted lot to the confusion on the field.”