With This Ring (13 page)

Lady Luisa found her voice. “Lydia?
Why would anyone want Lydia?”

The major laughed. “Lady Luisa, who
would have thought you to be such a tease? I know I would not.” He
took a step closer to the woman, and Lydia was surprised to see her
mother actually take a step back. Sir, you can be completely
commanding when the occasion arises, she thought.

“
Madam,” he continued, “the general
is interested in her opinion on tending the wounded. I knew you
would not begrudge her service to our country. Miss Perkins, I
recommend a shawl.” He indicated the bonnets in her hand. “And one
of these, preferably the one without additional ventilation. I will
wait in the carriage. Good day, all. Grand to meet you.”

He left the room, and it became so
empty and still she wondered if he had sucked out the oxygen, too.
I had no idea, she thought, then smiled. No wonder his men will
follow him anywhere.

Mama made no comment as Lydia bid
them good night and went upstairs for a better bonnet. There wasn’t
any need to pinch color into her cheeks. A glance in the mirror
told her that her color was quite high enough, and her eyes even
had a glow to them.

There was no time to change clothes.
He would have to be content to shepherd her in a plain blue dress
relieved only by a lace collar. She swung a shawl about her
shoulders, snatched up another bonnet more suitable for evening,
and hurried downstairs.

True to his word, the major waited
in the hackney, clutching the strap. Once the driver helped her in
and closed the door, she quietly took a handkerchief from her
reticule and wiped the sweat from the major’s face. “This is too
much exertion,” she said simply. “My hats could have stayed another
night at St. Barnabas, and what is this hum about General
Picton?”

He winced, and it wasn’t all from
the discomfort of his wound. “It is the unvarnished truth, or
nearly enough so,” he replied.

Considering that she had seldom felt
a need to be stern around him, she fixed the major with a hard
look. “Major Reed, I already begin to quake now when you qualify
the truth. Tell me what I am really getting into.”

She mollified her admonition with
another wipe of his face, and he leaned back carefully. “I have
been invited to the Pictons, but I know they will be gratified to
hear your remarks. Now, don’t look like that! Lydia, has no one
ever told you that you are too suspicious by half?”

“
It is Miss Perkins, and no, they
have not,” she retorted.

He smiled. “Besides that, I didn’t
want to waste this evening in a carriage by myself. If you cannot
be charitable to me, at least consider the fineness of the evening
and rejoice that I have sprung you from the house.”

She did, thinking to herself that
the night was uncommonly fine, even for late June. “What is
Northumberland like, this time of year?” she asked
suddenly.

He didn’t answer immediately, and
she was content to wait as he summarized Northumberland in his
brain. She liked the way he thought through her questions because
it meant he was listening. Only Papa ever listened at
home.

“
It’s not to everyone’s taste, and a
far cry from the heat and general fervor of Spain,” he said. “At
home right now, everything would be going from that lime green look
of spring into the full leaf of summer.” He sighed, and she didn’t
even think he was aware of it. “I would be every day in the saddle
now, looking over the work of my farmers and shepherds. The
shearing would be over, and the wool on the market. I’d be late to
bed every night, up early, and tired in between.” He chuckled. “Do
you know, I can’t wait to be about it again. No one will shoot at
me, and I understand the
patois
of the natives, because I
can speak it, too. I can put my legs under a table, and my bed is
soft in all the right places, unless Mama finally threw out that
old mattress.”

“
You’ve been thinking a lot about
it, haven’t you?” she murmured.

“
Only every day for the last five
years,” he said quickly. “No one was happier than I to see Boney
take up residence on Elba.” He was silent then, sitting beside her
in the close hackney, their shoulders touching companionably. I
like this, she thought. Perhaps when I return to Devon, I will make
some exertion toward finding a husband. I am twenty-two, but surely
there is a clergyman or a widower somewhere who wouldn’t be
disgusted with marrying someone past her first bloom.

“
It’s your turn,” he said, when she
had thought he was dozing. “Where do you wish to be?”

“
Why, right here,” she said without
thinking, and then had the grace to blush. “Major, Mama says I am
not possessed with much imagination. I suppose I am partial to the
moment.”

He touched her hand. “Then, you are
probably more content than most of us who look ahead and are not so
patient in waiting for the now to turn into tomorrow. Ah. Here we
are, Miss Perkins.”

She had to agree with him as they
walked slowly toward the house. The night was fine, and truly too
good to spend indoors. I do like the moment, she told herself in
honest self-defense, and there is no real defect in that, even if
Mama and Kitty call me stodgy.

She found herself in a plainly
decorated hall, sparse of furniture, which made her suspect that
Lady Picton was inclined to follow the army herself, and not invest
much time in knickknacks and furbelows that required attention and
careful packing.

Lady Picton was much like her
husband, somewhat commanding in appearance, with a straight back
and simple clothes. Lydia noticed with some amusement that she was
also a good head taller than the general, who stood beside her, his
arm around her waist.

The general noticed her glance.
“Miss Perkins, consider the folly of a youthful leg-shackle. Lady
Picton and I were much the same height when we married at twenty.
Alas, she continued to grow. Pick yourself a man like Sam here, who
is as tall as he’s ever going to be, and you’ll get no
surprises.”

On the contrary, she thought as she
curtsied and blushed with about equal skill, Major Reed is full of
surprises and on the prowl for an instant wife.

“
Tommy, I vow you have embarrassed
our guest,” Lady Picton said as she took Lydia’s hand. “Thank
goodness the war is over, my dear Miss Perkins, else men’s manners
would evaporate entirely. Do come in and meet the other guests.
Sam, how good to see you again, and upright once more.”

She was in excellent hands now, no
mistaking. Lady Picton took her by the arm and led her around the
drawing room, introducing her to officers with names familiar from
the newspaper, their wives, and other ladies she recognized from
St. Barnabas. It was easy to visit, and trade stories with the
women who shared her tasks of nursing the wounded. It was a far cry
from the trivialities of Devon drawing rooms, or even the few
parties she had attended in London, which seldom advanced much
beyond conversations about fashion and the trying royal
family.

Lady Picton’s last introduction was
to an older gentleman, who had the military bearing without the
uniform. “Miss Perkins, may I introduce Lord Walsingham? He has
taken it upon himself to prepare a speech for lords to question the
treatment of the wounded during the war.”

Lydia flashed a smile in Major
Reed’s direction, understanding his reasons for including her in
the gathering, and for the next hour, joined the others in
describing their impressions of hospital conditions. She discovered
that she had little to contribute, compared to those who had served
in the Peninsula, and she listened to stories of great suffering,
no supplies, poor conditions, and ill-trained surgeons. There is
inadequacy everywhere, she thought as she watched the animation
with which Major Reed and other commanders spoke to
Walsingham.

Her estimation of Major Reed rose
higher, the more he spoke. So you used your own money to send home
the bodies of your men, rather than have them jumbled together in
Spanish soil, so far from home? she thought. He was not alone in
this, or in paying for medications from his own pocket. Others told
similar stories.

“
Major Reed, I do believe your
mother and aunt will forgive your prevarication about a wife, if
they learn how kind you have been to your men,” she whispered to
him as the discussion ended, and she found herself standing next to
him again. “I still think you should take your chance with the
truth.”

He only nodded, tight-lipped. She
looked closer at him, then took his arm without his permission and
led him to a chair. “Sit down,” she ordered, and went in immediate
search of General Picton.

I am full of nerve, she thought as
she interrupted a gathering of officers to pull her host aside,
whisper to him, and ask him what to do. In another moment, General
Picton was helping his major of artillery to his feet and motioning
her to take his other arm. “Sam, it is upstairs for you, and bed,”
he said, with iron in his voice that allowed no rebuttal. “Help
him, Miss Perkins, while I attend to my guests. Sam, you are the
damnedest, most tenacious rascal it has been my misfortune to
command—if I ever did command you, and I have some doubts. Take his
pants, Miss Perkins, if he starts to animadvert, and make sure he
stays in that bed. I’ll see that you get home.”

“
But I must see her home,” the major
insisted.

“
You are perfectly brainless if you
do not think there are five or six officers who would like nothing
better than to escort a pretty lady home!” Picton told him. “Help
him, Miss Perkins, even if he is an idiot. I must return to my
guests.”

She did as she was bid, over the
protests of Major Reed, who objected when she removed his shoes,
took exception when she unbuttoned his uniform jacket, and nearly
fainted when she helped him from the garment. “You shouldn’t be
wearing something this confining yet,” she scolded him, even as her
heart ached to cause him pain.

She feared that his wound had
reopened, but to her relief there was no blood through the bandage.
Without asking his permission, she pulled his shirt away from his
back and peered under the bandage.

“
Well?” he asked, and he was
breathing hard, to her dismay.

“
No blood, but oh, you aggravate
me!” she exclaimed as she removed his shoes and helped settle him
on his side. His eyes were closed, and she wasn’t sure, but after a
moment’s reflection she unbuttoned the top few buttons of his
trousers and then pulled the blanket over him. She sat down in the
chair beside the bed.

“
Well?” he asked, after a long
silent spell.

“
Well, what?” she asked in
turn.

“
When are you going to ring a peal
over me, and scold and rail, because I haven’t the sense to stay
wisely on my cot at St. Barnabas?” he said, his eyes open now, but
heavy-lidded.

She observed his face, already quite
familiar to her now, and could tell that the pain was less, now
that he was lying down. “You don’t need a scold from me,” she said
quietly.

“
But ….”

“
Sir?”

He smiled at her drowsily. “I know
your own face well enough by now, Miss Perkins. Obviously there is
something else you wish to say. Do unburden yourself.”

It seemed too personal, what she
wanted to say, so she took a deep breath. “I only wish to add that
I think your men are fortunate indeed to have such an advocate.”
She thought another moment, and knew he was expecting
more.

“
And … and if you can bamboozle
some lady into marrying you on awfully short notice, she’ll be well
taken care of.” It came out in a rush, and she knew she had
embarrassed herself. “I mean it,” she added, further discomfiting
herself. “Now, go to sleep and don’t worry about your men. I’ll be
there tomorrow as usual, and I will tell them where you are, and
that you are destined to convalesce at the Pictons for a
while.”

He struggled to sit up at her words,
and she pushed him down gently. “They will be fine, sir, and
relieved to know that you are taking it a bit easier.”

“
I should be there. Lydia, no one
cares as much as I do!”

He was raising his voice and
starting to sweat again. Calmly she wiped his forehead. “It is Miss
Perkins, Major, and I care about you
and
them.”

“
Oh, you do, Miss Perkins?” he said,
and sounded formidable. “Then, help me up.”

“
No.”

Amazed at her own effrontery, she
pulled back the covers, unbuttoned his pants the rest of the way,
turned her head, and pulled them off. “There, sir,” she said from
the safety of the doorway, with the pants over her arm. “Now, do as
you are told.” She closed the door behind her.

While she was upstairs, the party
had dissolved. She watched from the quiet of the landing as the
officers and ladies bid each other good night and went out into the
fine evening. The general’s wife noticed Lydia and came up the
stairs, smiling to see the major’s pants over her arm.

“
The stubborn heroes are the worst
ones,” she said, taking the trousers. “I know, for I am married to
one. He still suffers because he left his bed too soon after his
wound at Ciudad Rodrigo. No one knows better than I.” She smiled.
“Perhaps you will be luckier with your major.”