With This Ring (27 page)

The innkeeper’s wife shook her head.
“I don’t know when I have seen a more pleasant baby. My daughter
Suzie here has quite enjoyed this afternoon.”

The young girl nodded and shyly came
to sit beside Lydia. “I can watch her anytime you like, Mrs. Reed,
if it will help with the major.”

“
It is a relief to me to know that,”
she said simply, touching Suzie’s arm. She looked at Mrs. Innis. “I
do not know how to thank you for your help thus far.” Or how I can
possibly pay you, she thought, but I will trust your goodwill to
get me through this day and night, while you still feel sorry for
me.

Mrs. Innis only nodded, then turned
away to blow her nose. I do believe this is the most softhearted
village we could ever have wandered into, Lydia thought. Either
that, or I look more pitiable than I imagined. “Oh, dear, I don’t
mean to cause you distress, Mrs. Innis,” she said. “I should go
upstairs and let you get on with your own concerns.”

Suzie touched her arm and took a
deep breath. “Mrs. Reed, you don’t need to go anywhere! It’s almost
like a fairy story, with you so pretty and fragile-looking, and so
much a lady; and then Mr. Wilburn tells everyone how brave you were
during that whole medical ordeal; and there is the major so
handsome and courageous, defending your virtue from those dreadful
road agents, and how you killed the road agents single-handedly to
save the major’s life; and there is little Maria, so sweet and
looking so much like her dear papa, and what a shame it would be if
he did not live to see her grow! Oh, it fair takes my breath away,”
she concluded, her eyes shining with the excitement of it
all.

Oh, my, Lydia thought in amazement.
Already this tale has exceeded its boundaries! I am not pretty and
have never been accused of fragility, and by no stretch of anyone’s
imagination is Sam handsome—although he does possess a certain
something that makes my stomach feel warm when he looks at me—and
as for the road agents, and defending my virtue …. I am only
grateful down to my toenails that I did not shoot Sam, too! Like an
idiot, Sam was arguing, and my virtue was never in much
jeopardy.

“
I only wounded one of the road
agents, and the other one got away,” she said, deciding that it
would be best to leave the rest of the tale as Suzie told it. “And
there is that poor vicar,” she added.

Suzie and Mrs. Innis glanced at each
other, and burst into laughter. When Lydia stared at them in
surprise, Mrs. Innis did look a little uncomfortable. “You must
forgive us, but we are thinking that the road agent who shot him
must have been a member of our congregation.”

“
His sermons were so dull,” Suzie
explained. “I fall asleep before I ever get inside the
church.”

“
But we should be charitable,” Mrs.
Innis said, although Lydia could discern no contrition in either
her voice or expression. “Mrs. Reed, may I get you some
soup?”

The subject change suited everyone,
until Lydia sat down at the table. Mrs. Innis served cream soup,
and it looked so much in color and texture like the infection in
Sam’s shoulder that she could only stare at it and shake her head.
Without any questions, Mrs. Innis whisked it away and brought tea
and toast instead. She ate until she felt herself too tired to lift
the toast to her mouth, or manage one more sip.

Mrs. Innis was there watching her.
“You should go to sleep now, my dear,” she said, her voice low and
kind. “I have a nightgown for you. You are much Suzie’s size, and I
am certain that this dress of hers I have here will
fit.”

“
Oh, I couldn’t,” Lydia
began.

“
We know it is not what you are used
to,” Mrs. Innis said in apology, “but Davey is going to Ealing in
the morning to retrieve your luggage.”

“
It isn’t that ….” she said as
she accepted the loan of the clothing. It is just that I am not
used to such kindness, she thought as tears came to her eyes again.
“I dislike being a trouble to you.”

Mrs. Innis only smiled and helped
Lydia to her feet. “Mrs. Reed, you cannot imagine our own pleasure
at doing our little part to help the soldiers who defended our
shores from invasion.”

Lydia took Mrs. Innis’s hand. If you
could only see how people—vultures really—worked their way through
St. Barnabas, looking for soldiers to entertain them in the agony
of death, you would be amazed at the way others feel. “I am certain
that everyone feels the way you do,” she lied.

“
I’m certain they do,” Mrs. Innis
said, returning the pressure of Lydia’s grasp. “Let me help you
upstairs. We hope you will let Maria remain here with Suzie. You
need your rest, and so does the major.”

The nightgown was surely made of
flannel and comfort, she decided as she dropped its folds around
her. She washed her face in the basin, pausing several times as
though trying to remember what it was she was doing. I have never
lived a longer day, she thought, as she looked in the mirror and
brushed her hair with the brush on loan from Mrs. Innis. Perhaps I
do look fragile, she thought. I feel fragile right now, and so much
in need of comfort.

Sam lay on his side as she had left
him. She crawled into bed beside him, backing herself up against
his chest and legs. He sighed and settled his arm around her and
inched closer until she could feel his breath on her neck. With a
groan that made her freeze in worry, he threw a leg over her, and
then settled back into deeper sleep.

She was warm now, and embraced into
sleep by someone who was really too ill to have any idea what he
was doing, she told herself. She closed her eyes, ready to let the
mattress claim her, too.

“
Lydia.”

Wondering if he was awake or asleep,
she waited for him to say something else. She was almost asleep
when he moved closer. “I think I cannot sleep if you are not here.”
At least, she thought that was what he said. His words were still
slurred and the pauses so great that she wasn’t sure. Suzie would
call that extremely romantic, she thought as she settled against
him and went to sleep.

The major woke her once in the night
with his restless turning, and muttering. She sat up and watched
him, remembering how the surgeons would administer fever powders to
men who fidgeted, even if they did not appear to be awake. She got
up and mixed the powders and brought them back to the
bed.

“
Sam, hold still,” she said,
speaking distinctly into his ear.

He opened his eyes. Oh, how you
suffer, she thought in shock. Even the tiny light of the candle she
had lit did not soften the dull look of pain.

“
I … don’t … need …
that,” he said with great emphasis, even if he could manage no more
than a whisper.

“
Yes, you do,” she said. “Hold still
and behave yourself, Sam.” She rose up on her knees on the bed and
got a good hold on his lower back, enough to prop him up slightly.
When he would not open his mouth, she pinched his nostrils closed
until he did, then poured down the drug.

She was afraid he would try to spit
it out, but the liquid went down without a murmur. You know you
need it, she thought, as she lowered him carefully to the bed again
and tried to reposition him on his side, with a pillow at his back
again. How grateful I am that women are not as stubborn as
men.

He was still restless, and moving
his hands toward his privates, so she found the urinal and held it
for him. When he finished, all without opening his eyes, he nodded
and she took it away. When she turned back to the bed again, he was
soundly asleep, his breathing slow, regular, and more normal to her
ears.

“
Thank goodness for that,” she
whispered, as she worked to arrange the pillow again and position
him onto his good side. She sat cross-legged on the bed for a
while, both hands against the small of her back. You really are too
heavy to roll over, she thought. Sitting there with Mrs. Innis’s
nightgown comfortably up around her knees, she assessed her husband
and found him not wanting in any way, except for the business with
his shoulder. She touched his chest, pleased with the feel of
him.

“
For goodness sake, Lyddy, cover
me …. Go … sleep.”

She squeaked in alarm. He still had
not opened his eyes. She tugged her nightgown down and covered him
with the sheet. “Sam, are you awake?” she asked.

He nodded slowly. “Too much
trouble … open my eyes.”

“
Does it hurt?’ she
asked.

He nodded again. She lay down beside
him, not as close this time. “Closer,” he said.

She inched herself back into his
embrace again. He sighed as her back rested close to his chest, and
said nothing more until morning.

He still slept when dawn came and
she edged herself out of his embrace. Mr. Wilburn had decided not
to bandage his shoulder, so she rose up on her knees again to get a
better look at it in the early light. “Drat,” she said softly,
seeing the rash on his neck still. Is it higher? she thought. Am I
borrowing trouble? After all, the light is poor yet. She knew she
was not when she saw the spots of high color in his cheeks, and
felt his forehead. “Oh, Sam, no,” she whispered.

Moving quietly, she got out of bed
and came around to the other side for a better look at his
shoulder. It was red, and the stitches were pulled tight. She
touched the skin, and he flinched. As she watched, he began to pat
the space where she had been. In another moment, tears began to
pool under his cheek.

Touched beyond words, she leaned
over him and hugged him as carefully as she could, then rested her
cheek against his. Could I possibly mean so much to one person? she
thought in stupefaction. This one? It must be the pain. “Poor man,”
she whispered in his ear. “All you want to do is get home, don’t
you?”

After a long pause, as though her
words had to filter through miles and miles of passageways, he
shook his head. “No?” she asked in surprise. “What can I get
you?”

“
You,” he whispered finally and
patted the bed again. “Sickness and health,” he said quite
distinctly, his memory making a strange parabola from the effect of
the fever powder.

She returned to bed, feeling honored
and shy at the same time. His eyes were closed, but she knew he was
conscious because he smiled slightly when she jiggled the mattress
as she laid herself down next to him. With an effort he put his
hand on her stomach and prodded her to move closer. She turned to
face him this time. Lydia, I wonder why you never thought he was
handsome before? she asked herself. Even with fever branding holes
in his cheeks, he is handsome. Any ninny can see that. She smoothed
his hair back from his face. You need another haircut, Sam, and a
shave, and a good shoulder, and some money to get home. I can
supply the first two, you must do the third, and I think the fourth
is my task, too.

“
Will you get well soon?” she asked
him, not knowing if he would answer. It was probably a complicated
question for someone involved in pain, circled about with it,
throbbing with it.

“
Soon,” he said after the long pause
she expected now. The word came out more like a sigh, his hand
became heavier, and she knew that the fever had pulled him under
again. She twined her fingers through his hand as it warmed her
stomach and slept, too.

He did not wake up when she left the
bed an hour later, dressed, and went downstairs. Maria was sitting
in what must have been a high chair left from a smaller Innis,
finishing a pear that Suzie was feeding her piece by piece. Lydia
kissed her. “How nice not to worry about her,” she said to Mrs.
Innis as she accepted a bowl of porridge. “Sam is so hot now.
Should I send for Mr. Wilburn?”

“
He stopped in earlier and said he
would be back after he paid court on the miller’s wife and her
rheumatism,” Mrs. Innis said. “There are others in the public room
who want to speak with you when you finish breakfast.”

“
Oh?”

“
The magistrate.” She made a face.
“He told Dave that he wants a complete report, though why he needs
to be bothering you, I am sure I do not understand.”

“
Probably because I was the one who
pulled the trigger, Mrs. Innis,” Lydia replied. She thought about
the road agent: the anger in his eyes, followed by bewilderment,
then excruciating pain. “Poor man,” she murmured.

Mrs. Innis stared at her. “I hope
you are not feeling sorry for that … that dreadful
man!”

“
I am a little,” Lydia replied
honestly. “I don’t think he was much used to robbing people.” She
touched Mrs. Innis’s arm. “And really, Mrs. Innis, my virtue was
never in any danger. It seems that this story is being embellished
far beyond its reality. I’m only grateful I did not hit Sam,
instead. My hands were shaking. Oh, Mrs. Innis, I could
have!”

She didn’t mean to cry then, but
just the thought of the damage she could have done set her off.
Mrs. Innis’s arms were around her immediately, and she cried until
she felt better.

“
You needed that,” the innkeeper’s
wife declared as she handed Lydia a second handkerchief. “There’s
nothing worse than hanging onto tears.” She gave Lydia another pat
and released her. “And don’t canker over what
didn’t
happen,
my dear. Most days have enough trouble without adding more. Your
major is in good hands with Mr. Wilburn … and yours, I would
imagine.”