A Refuge at Highland Hall (21 page)

“No, our home is at Highland Hall near Fulton.”

“Well, we don't want to delay you.” Mrs. Tremont looked toward the front door, obviously ready for them to leave.

Penny reached in her purse. “If you do hear from Alex, would you let us know?” She took out her calling card and held it out to Lindy. “The only address you'll need is Highland Hall, Fulton.”

“Of course.” Lindy accepted the card with a slight nod. “I'll send word as soon as we hear something.”

“Thank you. I'd appreciate it.” She should go, but there were a few more things she had to say. “If Alex needs medical care of any kind, St. George's is an excellent hospital with the most modern equipment and treatments available. Jon has cared for hundreds of wounded men, and I know he's eager to help Alex. We'd be happy to put in a word and have Alex moved there if it's possible.”

Lindy nodded. “Thank you. I'll remember that.”

Julia took Penny's arm. “We should be going. Thank you for seeing us. We'll look forward to hearing from you.”

Lindy opened the front door, and Penny walked out into the late afternoon sunlight, her heart heavy and her mind filled with unanswered questions.

Lydia pushed open the door to the lower hallway at Highland, then stepped back so Siegfried and Patrick could carry Marius inside. “There are three steps,” she called, then held her breath as Patrick shifted his hold on Marius's wounded leg.

Marius clamped his mouth closed. A bright-red stain spread out on the apron tied around his calf. He looked up at Lydia as he was carried past. She forced a slight smile, but her stomach clenched into a fearful knot.

Siegfried looked over his shoulder and backed down the steps, holding Marius under both arms. He had only carried Marius a short distance from the wagon to the house, but his face was flushed, and he puffed out each breath. Obviously he was not used to carrying a heavy load. He muttered something under his breath and stepped to the side.

“Watch out!” Lydia called, but it was too late. Siegfried banged Marius into the brick wall.

Marius pulled in a sharp breath between clenched teeth.

Siegfried jerked back. “Sorry.”

“Take him into the kitchen.” Lydia pointed down the hallway.

Mrs. Murdock looked out of the kitchen doorway and placed her hands on her hips. “Who's this?”

“One of the German prisoners.” Lydia hurried toward her. “He has a deep cut on his leg. Is Dr. Foster still here?”

“I don't know.” Mrs. Murdock scowled, clearly irritated Lydia had brought a wounded prisoner into the house.

“Can you send someone upstairs to look for the doctor?”

The cook pursed her lips, then called one of the maids out of the kitchen and sent her off in search of Dr. Foster.

Lydia glanced at Marius and then Mrs. Murdock. “He'll need somewhere to lie down while the doctor tends his leg.”

“Well, I don't want his blood all over my kitchen.”

“The servants' hall, then?”

The cook shook her head. “That won't do.”

Mrs. Dalton strode down the hallway toward them, the keys to the supply closets jangling from the chain hanging at her waist. She took in the situation and motioned to Patrick. “Bring him into the stillroom, and be quick about it.”

Patrick turned and led the way down the hall. Lydia explained to Mrs. Dalton what had happened as they followed the men into the stillroom. Patrick and Siegfried placed Marius on the wooden table and stood back.

“Dr. Foster is with Agatha.” The housekeeper turned to the footman. “Patrick, please go up and—”

“We've already sent Marie up to get the doctor.”

Mrs. Dalton lifted her eyebrows at Lydia. “Well, then…” She nodded to Patrick. “Make sure the doctor is on his way.”

“Yes, ma'am.” The footman hurried out of the room, looking relieved he didn't have to stay any longer.

Mrs. Dalton turned to Siegfried. “I suppose you can take a seat and wait with your friend.”

Siegfried shuffled over to the corner and sat on a stool. He looked around the room, studying the shelves lined with jars of preserved fruit and containers of flour, sugar, lemon peel, and nuts. The stillroom was used for preparing afternoon tea. Chef Lagarde and Mrs. Murdock cooked the main meals in the kitchen, but Mrs. Dalton did much of the baking here.

Mrs. Dalton turned to Lydia. “I'll stay here until the doctor comes. You may go.”

“I'd like to stay.”

“Aren't you supposed to be watching the children?”

“They're walking back from the orchard. I left Lucy and Master Andrew in charge. I'm sure they'll be fine until we're finished.”

Mrs. Dalton studied her with a hint of disapproval in her eyes. She glanced at Marius and Siegfried, then turned back to Lydia. “I'll wait with you, then.”

Dr. Foster strode through the doorway carrying his medical bag. He nodded to Mrs. Dalton and Lydia. “Ladies.” Then he shifted his gaze to Marius and approached the table. “What happened to you, young man?”

“We were working in the orchard”—Marius glanced at Siegfried—“and I got in the path of a scythe.”

Lydia stepped up next to the doctor. “I was with the children, picking cherries, when it happened. The cut is quite deep. I tied my apron around his leg, but I'm afraid it's still bleeding.”

The doctor nodded and set to work unwrapping Marius's leg. “What's your name?”

“Marius Ritter.”

“Where are you from, Marius?”

“I was born in Bonn, Germany, but my family moved to London when I was eight.” He had a slight German accent, but it was barely noticeable.

The doctor opened his bag and took out a pair of scissors. “Mrs. Dalton, can you bring me some hot water and towels?”

“Of course, Doctor.” She bustled out of the room.

The doctor cut away the fabric of Marius's pant leg below the knee, exposing the bloody gash across the back of his calf.

Lydia clenched her teeth and looked away. Thank goodness the doctor was here to stitch him up. What would've happened to Marius if they'd tried to take him back to the camp?

“Do you have family in London?”

“Yes, my mother and a younger sister live there.”

“And your father?”

Marius hesitated. “He passed away three years ago.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. It must have been difficult for your family.” Kindness shone in the doctor's eyes.

“It was, especially for my mother.”

“What was your father's occupation?” The doctor worked quickly, but there was still a gentleness about him that eased Lydia's fears.

“He was a furniture maker, a fine craftsman. He made a fair living, but we had little savings. When he passed away, I had to leave school and go to work to support the family. And now that I can't provide for them…It's been very hard…on everyone.”

Lydia watched Marius with growing sympathy. How terrible to lose his father, then be taken away to an internment camp and separated from his mother and sister.

“So you've lived in England since you were a boy?” The doctor took a needle and thread from his case, and Lydia tried not to grimace.

“Yes, sir.”

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-four.”

Surprise rippled through Lydia. She would've guessed he was older.

The doctor looked up and met Marius's gaze. “It's too bad you never became a British citizen.”

“I planned to apply when I finished school, but after my father died I wasn't sure we would be able to stay in England. We thought we might have to go back to Germany and live with my mother's family. But I found work, and we decided to stay.”

Siegfried leaned forward. “Citizenship wouldn't have made any difference for Marius or for me. They arrested every man of German descent who was military age, even those who were British citizens.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows. “Is that right?”

“Yes. My cousin Heinz has been a citizen for almost five years, and he was arrested along with the rest of us after the riots in London last fall.”

“I'm afraid the bombing raids and the sinking of the
Lusitania,
along with the use of poison gas on the battlefield, have hardened people's hearts against people of German descent.”

“And you think Britain is innocent?” Siegfried scowled at the doctor. “They use some of the same tactics against my countrymen.”

The doctor straightened and leveled his gaze at Siegfried. “That may be true, but we are defending our nation and the countries Germany invaded. Our goal is peace, not conquest. That is the difference.”

Siegfried leaned back and crossed his arms. “That's not the way I see it.”

The doctor shifted his gaze to Marius. “And what about you? What do you think?”

“I'm sorry for the conflict between our countries, but I support Britain. I tried to enlist last September, but they wouldn't take me. I was arrested a few weeks later.”

“You see? That's what I mean.” Siegfried pointed to Marius. “The government doesn't care what you believe or who you support. If you are German, you can't serve in the military. You can't even keep your job or take care of your family. Instead they arrest you and put you in a camp and make you work like a slave.”

The doctor cocked his head. “I understood you were paid for your work.”

“Well, yes, they give us a pittance, but that doesn't change the fact that we're locked up and treated like spies or criminals.”

“It's not the doctor's fault.” Marius turned his head and sent Siegfried a stern look. “He is doing me a good a turn, tending to my leg. I'm grateful, and I don't think we should argue with him about the war or anything else.”

That comment silenced Siegfried, but resentment still burned in his eyes.

Mrs. Dalton walked through the doorway with a pitcher, basin, and stack of clean towels and bandages. The doctor took them and thanked her, then set to work, washing away the blood. Marius clenched his jaw and fixed his gaze on the ceiling.

“I'm going to stitch it up now. It will be painful. Are you ready?”

Marius tensed. “Yes, sir.”

Mrs. Dalton took a step back. “If you don't need anything else, I'll take my leave.” She turned and walked out before the doctor even answered.

Lydia moved closer and took hold of Marius's hand. His cool, rough fingers wrapped around hers, and he looked up at her with gratitude flowing from his blue eyes.

The doctor took the first stitch. Marius grimaced and tightened his hold on Lydia's hand.

She had cut her hand last year and remembered how painful it was to have stitches. Perhaps she could distract him as the doctor had with a few questions. “What did you study when you were in school?”

His eyes flashed to hers. “Many subjects, but my focus was botany.”

“So you're interested in flowers and plants?”

He gave a slight nod. “And crops. I was studying how to apply modern techniques in agriculture to help farmers increase the quality and quantity of their crops.”

She sent him a slight smile. “My father would like that.”

“He owns a farm?”

“He's a tenant farmer for Sir William here at Highland.”

“What does he grow?”

“Oats, barley, and potatoes mostly. And of course he has sheep and cows.”

The doctor took the next stitch. Marius clenched his teeth and pulled in a slow, deep breath. “And you work here with the children?”

“Yes, I work for Dr. and Mrs. Foster.”

He glanced at the doctor.

“Not this doctor—his son and his son's wife.”

“You are a governess?”

“No, I'm a lady's maid, but I help keep an eye on the children for the Fosters.”

“They have a large family.”

Lydia smiled. “I suppose you could say that.”

He sent her a quizzical look.

“The Fosters have taken in several orphans from London's East End.”

“That's very kind.”

“Yes, they're good people. They saved those children's lives.”

His eyes shone as he looked up at her. “And you're a part of that.”

She smiled again. “A small part.”

Patrick stepped into the doorway. “There's a Sergeant Thompson and another soldier at the back door, asking to see the prisoners.”

“It's fine with me,” the doctor said. “Show them in.”

Patrick strode off, and a few seconds later, the two uniformed men walked into the stillroom. One was the guard from the orchard, but Lydia had not seen the other man before.

“I'm Sergeant Thompson. We've come to transport these two prisoners back to Everson Internment Camp.”

“I'm Dr. Phillip Foster, and as you can see, I'm in the middle of stitching Mr. Ritter's leg.”

“How long will that take?”

“I'm almost finished, but this is a serious injury. I wouldn't advise moving Mr. Ritter anytime soon.”

The sergeant shot a glance at Siegfried and then Marius. “My orders are to bring these prisoners back to camp as soon as possible.”

“That man may go.” The doctor nodded at Siegfried. “But I don't want Mr. Ritter moved a great distance until I'm sure the wound is going to stay closed.”

“How long will that take?”

The doctor glanced at his watch. “It's almost three o'clock. He ought to rest here at least overnight. I'll check on him in the morning and see how soon he can be moved.”

The sergeant's eyebrows dipped and he motioned toward the guard. “Take Schultz outside to the wagon.” He turned to the doctor. “Will you step out into the hall, please?”

The guard took Siegfried's arm. “Come along, Schultz.”

Siegfried glared at the guard, but he rose to his feet. He looked at Marius and cocked his eyebrows. “Enjoy your stay.” Then he smirked at Lydia as he passed.