Abbeyford Remembered (20 page)

“Aye, bin here abit, I ’ave. Gettin’ better, I am now, sir, thanks to
these nurses. Eh, that’s what I want to tell you, sir.”

Jamie’s eyes were beginning to close again. “ Sir!” The tone was
reproachful. “ Do listen, sir. I reckon it’s important.”

“Go on, then,” Jamie said resignedly, his eyes still shut. “ I’m
listening.”

“Well, sir, you know when you had that bout of cholera, an’ I helped look
after you, you was on about a girl called Carrie.”

“Mmmm?”

“Well, she’s here,” Boy said triumphantly. “She’s one of Miss
Nightingale’s nurses!”

Jamie’s eyes flew open in an instant. “Here? She can’t be – she … Boy –
are you sure?”

Boy nodded gleefully. “She was asking about you. She’s been asking
everybody who’s come here nearly – so I’ve heard – an’ it was me who knew
you.” He was so proud to be involved.

“Where is she?”

Boy’s face fell a little. “That’s the only trouble. Since you’ve been
here these last three days, I ain’t seen her. I’ve been burstin’ to tell
’er, and I can’t find ’er nowhere. An’ you’ve bin lyin’ here half dead
since you come.” He sniffed in a matter-of-fact manner. “I was afraid you
was goin’ to snuff it ’afore I could tell you.”

Die! Oh, hell! Jamie thought, not now! I’ll not die now. Only moments
before he’d been close to it, allowing himself to slip over the edge into
blissful oblivion. But not now, not any more if Carrie were here. If she
was somewhere close again, if he could just see her!

His hand reached out and clasped Boy’s arm, trying to raise himself up.
“Boy – who d’you say is in charge of the nurses?”

“Miss Nightingale.”

“I must see her.”

“She comes round at night – goes all over the hospital, carrying one of
those Turkish lamp things. It’s dusk now. She’ll be along soon.”

Jamie sank back again. “ You’re sure Carrie’s here? She’s not gone away
again?”

“I dunno. I can’t find anyone who seems to know.” He paused. “Except
Ellen. When I asked her she wouldn’t seem to answer me proper. Looked
upset, I thought … Oh God,” he glanced down at Jamie the words spilling
out before he thought to check them. “ I hope she ain’t ill. Some of the
nurses get cholera.”

Jamie groaned aloud, whilst Boy watched him, biting his lips anxiously.
He stayed with Jamie, squatting on the floor beside him, watching the long
corridor for the pale, flickering light which would herald Miss
Nightingale’s approach.

“She’s here – she’s coming!” Again he was shaking Jamie into wakefulness.

“What? Who? Carrie?” Jamie tried to pull himself up.

“No. Miss Nightingale.” Boy began to scramble up.

“Miss Nightingale – Miss Nightingale,” he said in a loud whisper.
“Please, ma’am, would you step over here a moment. Corporal Trent wants to
speak with you urgent.”

Jamie saw the tall woman stop, hold her lamp high and look across in his
direction. The light moved nearer and she was standing beside him.

“How may I help you?” Her voice was soft and reassuring, yet firm and
confident.

“I’ll get you a camp-stool.” Boy fetched one and returned to place it
beside where Jamie lay. Miss Nightingale set her lamp upon the floor and
sat down. “Well?”

“Ma’am, have you a Carrie Smithson – no – no, wait a minute – a Mrs
Carrie Foster here as one of your nurses?”

There was a moment’s pause, but Miss Nightingale’s face showed no change
of expression. “May I ask why you want to know?”

For a moment Jamie closed his eyes, unable to answer. Why, she asked. If
only she
knew
!”

“You must understand, Corporal Trent,” her voice was gentle yet there was
authority there. “ That I must exert a strict discipline over my nurses,
and …”

“Yes, yes, of course. I appreciate that, ma’am,” he assured her hastily,
“and I can promise you I do not in any way wish to cause you any trouble
or embarrassment, only – I – beg you – let me see her – just let me speak
to her.”

He was silent, the words would not come. He could not explain to this
quiet, composed woman all the craving in his heart which had been locked
away there for thirteen lonely years. Would she – could she even –
understand? Did she know what it was to love? Had she ever loved and lost,
and then been given the chance of finding her beloved again?

Boy, hovering near, was bending forward, whispering to her. “He loved
her, ma’am, a long while back – only they was parted, I reckon. He won’t
say much, but – if you could help him, ma’am, I reckon she’s all he’s got
to live for – if you sees what I mean.”

Her gaze was upon Jamie’s gaunt face, accentuated by the pale lamplight.
“ She is one of my nurses – yes,” Miss Nightingale said slowly, “but I’m
afraid she’s not here at present.”

“Why? Is she ill?” Jamie asked, afraid of the answer.

“I – trust not. I was asked to send a nurse aboard the ship you arrived
on whilst it lay at anchor off Scutari. I sent Mrs Foster and a young
girl, Ellen, with her.” Miss Nightingale sighed. “ Ellen returned with the
wounded when they were brought ashore – but not Mrs Foster.”

“What happened to her? Did the girl say nothing?”

“I have questioned Ellen closely and it seems there was a major on board
– she didn’t know his name, though I’ve since learnt from the soldiers his
name was Richmond – the same man who wrote the letter to me asking me for
my help. Evidently he had met Mrs Foster in India.”

“India?” Jamie’s surprise was evident.

“She had been in India with her husband – did you not know?”

“I – knew she was married,” his eyes were filled with pain, “ but not
where they had gone.”

“Her husband was killed in India. Didn’t you know that either?”

“No. No, I didn’t.”

There was a pause whilst Jamie took in this information and all its
implications. He raised his worried eyes again to Miss Nightingale’s calm
face. “ But what can have happened on board the ship? Who was this – this
Major Richmond?”

There was bleak misery in his eyes, which Miss Nightingale could not fail
to see even in the dim, fitful light. Had he found Carrie only to lose her
again?

“If it’s any comfort to you,” she said gently. “Mrs Foster did not seem
at all pleased to see the Major – in fact, Ellen says she seemed afraid of
him.”

“Carrie – afraid?” Jamie almost smiled at the thought of his wild gypsy
love being afraid of anyone. But that had been thirteen long years ago. He
knew nothing of her life since with her husband, in a strange land. His
expression was haunted.

“Ellen last saw her arguing with this Major about shelter for the wounded
from an approaching storm.”

Jamie nodded. “ Yes – I remember. It rained like hell when we were being
brought ashore. I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he apologised swiftly, “army
life has robbed me of my manners.”

Miss Nightingale nodded slightly and said, “ Corporal Trent, you do wish
to know
everything
I know?”

“Why, yes, of course. There’s – more?”

She sighed. “ Yes. And it may be distasteful to you to hear it. Ellen
heard the Major refuse to discuss helping the wounded unless Mrs Foster
went below with him.”

“And?” His face was dark now with anguish.

She lifted her shoulders fractionally, almost sadly. “She went.”

He groaned, unable to stop the sound escaping from his lips.

After a few moments Jamie said quietly. “ They began taking us ashore and
even tried to rig up some improvised shelter for those waiting on deck.
Whatever happened, she evidently succeeded in persuading the Major to help
the wounded.” There was bitter sarcasm in his tone as his imagination
played cruel tricks on him, forcing him to picture her in the unknown
Major’s arms in exchange for the well-being of the wounded.

“Has the ship sailed back to the Crimea yet?”

“Yes, it left as soon as all the wounded had been put ashore.”

“To think she was on that boat – and I didn’t even know,” he murmured. “
If only …”

“I’m sorry – truly,” Miss Nightingale said with compassion.

Then, as if filled with a new purpose, Jamie said, “ My arm? How bad is
my injury?”

“The doctor thinks it may have to be amputated. Tomorrow he …”

“No. Leave it. I will not be operated on. It’ll heal. It’ll have to. I’ll
be out of here. I must go in search of her. I won’t lose her a second
time!”

“Corporal Trent.” The firmness was now more in evidence. “You will,
whilst you are my patient, do what is best for your recovery.” Then her
tone softened. “For the present – concentrate on your own health – I will
do what I can to help you in – the other matter.”

Then she was gone, moving amongst the other patients, giving a drink to
one, covering another and holding the hand of a dying man.

Jamie lay back. The pain was back in his arm with a vengeance but now he
didn’t care. Now he had something to live for – he had to find Carrie
again!

Now there was a future for them together.

“What is the meaning of this?” Carrie demanded of her
captor when finally the door of the cabin opened and Major Richmond
entered.

“I should have thought that was quite clear, Carrie my love,” he drawled.
“ I have no intention of allowing you to escape from me again. As soon as
we get to my quarters, I shall arrange for the chaplain to marry us!”

“Never, never!” Carrie screamed at him.

“Oh, I think you will agree, my dear,” he said menacingly, moving closer
to her. He reached out and pulled her towards him, pressing his mouth upon
hers. Carrie struggled, but his arms were strong about her, his body
trapping her against the wooden wall of the cabin. She fought and clawed
her way free until they stood back from each other panting, the one from
exertion the other from frustrated passion.

“You
will
agree to marry me,” he gasped, his eyes dark with hunger
for her.

Carrie shook her head. “No – I’d rather
die
first!”

His laugh was humourless. “You probably will do, my dear, if you refuse
my protection.” He moved closer again. “ Not all our soldiers are weak and
ill. Whilst they may not enjoy the best of health or conditions, they are
strong and lusty.” He paused a moment to let his words sink in. “A
beautiful young woman alone amongst a herd of men who have not held a
woman for months …”

“You are
despicable
,” Carrie spat at him, but the Major only
laughed.

Carrie remained a prisoner in his cabin for the five days the voyage
took. Not that she wanted for anything. Food was plentiful and even fresh
clothing was provided – a velvet gown and a black velvet cloak. But his
outward show of generosity only confirmed for Carrie the thought that he
had planned all this so carefully in advance.

The ship docked at Balaclava and Carrie found herself conducted to a
house not far from the dock area, and there the Major left her.

At once Carrie tried to escape, but immediately found that not only had
the so-called housekeeper – a slattern of a woman, dirty and fat – been
instructed to keep watch on her, but two soldiers had been posted outside
the door.

Carrie sat in the room and tried to compose her emotions, tried to remain
calm and rational, to plan her escape sensibly. But every moment that
passed brought her nearer to the time the Major would return with the army
chaplain. She could not bribe the woman and the two soldiers, for she had
no money.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and felt her flesh creep as she knew he
was returning. Major Richmond was alone but in a vile temper. He banged
the door behind him.

“There’s not a chaplain to be found. All up near the front line,
performing their
admirable
duties,” he said sarcastically. Carrie
breathed a sigh of relief and some of that relief must have shown on her
face, for Major Richmond pointed his finger at her. “ Don’t look so
pleased with yourself, madam. I’m not finished yet!” He stepped towards
her and grasped her shoulders. “But what need have we of a parson, my
lovely. I’ve waited long enough to taste your sweetness for myself. You’ve
taunted me long enough, held me at arm’s length when your husband was
alive to protect you. Escaped me after he died. But now there’s no one
here – no one to help you. Not even your precious James Trent!”

He felt her go rigid beneath his grasp, her eyes widen, her lips part. “
Jamie – you know where he is?”

His anger grew. He shook her fiercely. “ Why can’t it be me? Why, at the
very mention of his name, do you look like that?” He was almost weeping
with frustration. Then he flung her from him so that she fell to the floor
whilst he stood over her. “Yes – I know where he is. He was shot in the
arm. Badly wounded.” He leant over her, menacing, gleeful. “
Fatally
wounded. He’s dead, your hero, your beloved. Dead, do you hear me?” His
voice rose to a high pitch. He raised his hand to strike her, but his
words, his venomous anger galvanised her into action. With the inborn
tenacity for survival, she sprang to her feet and flung herself at him,
her fists and feet flailing. Surprised by her sudden retaliation, he fell
backwards, but Carrie did not wait to see what happened, for she wrenched
open the door and fled. Down the stairs, out of the house, she began to
run wildly without thought for direction or purpose. She must just escape
from him.

The two soldiers had relaxed their vigil now that Major Richmond had
returned. In fact they were in the housekeeper’s kitchen, flirting with
the woman and drinking.

Carrie ran on. Fortunately, her flight was in the right direction and
within moments she saw ahead of her the mast of the ship she had so
recently left still anchored near the dock. She glanced fearfully behind
her, but there was no one in pursuit. Not yet.

Her heart was pounding, her breathing laboured, but on she ran, her legs
weak and shaking. As she neared the landing-stage she saw that more
wounded were being carried aboard the ship. Thankfully she threaded her
way amongst them, glancing behind her every now and then. She reached the
gangway and was obliged to pause whilst the stretcher-bearers carried
their sick and wounded on board. She waited, panting heavily, almost sick
with fear. She began to climb aboard and was halfway up the gangway when
she saw Major Richmond running towards the landing-stage, followed by the
two soldiers.