Beneath the Major's Scars (2 page)

The thought of Miss Zelah Pentewan made him pause. A reluctant
smile touched his lips and dragged at the scarred tissue of his cheek. She was
not conventionally pretty, too small and thin, with mousy brown hair and brown
eyes. She reminded him of a sparrow, nothing like the voluptuous beauties he had
known. When he thought of her standing up to him, prepared to fight him to
protect her nephew...by God she had spirit, for she barely came up to his
shoulder!

He washed and dried his face, his fingers aware of the rough,
pitted skin on his left cheek through the soft linen cloth. He remembered how
she had glared at him, neither flinching nor averting her eyes once she had seen
his scarred face. He gave her credit for that, but he would not subject her to
the gruesome sight again. There was plenty for him to do that would keep him
well away from the house for a few days.

* * *

‘Well, I have cleaned and bandaged the leg. Now we must
wait. I have given him a sleeping draught which should see him through to the
morning and after that it will be up to you to keep him still while the leg
heals. He will be as good as new in a few weeks.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

Zelah stared down at the motionless little figure in the middle
of the bed. Nicky had fainted away when the doctor began to work on his leg and
now he looked so fragile and uncharacteristically still that tears started to
her eyes.

‘Now, now, Miss Pentewan, no need for this. The boy has a
strong constitution—by heaven, no one knows that better than I, for I have been
calling at West Barton since he was a sickly little scrap of a baby that no one
expected to survive. I’m hoping that bruise on his head is nothing serious. I
haven’t bled him, but if he begins to show a fever then I will do so tomorrow.
For now keep him calm and rested and I will call again in the morning.’

The doctor’s gruff kindness made her swallow hard.

‘Thank you, Dr Pannell. And if he wakes in pain...?’

‘A little laudanum and water will do him no harm.’

There was a knock at the door and the housekeeper peeped
in.

‘Here’s the little lad’s papa come to see him, Doctor.’ She
flattened herself against the door as Reginald Buckland swept in, hat, gloves
and riding whip clutched in one hand and an anxious look upon his jovial
features.

‘I came as soon as I heard. How is he?’

Zelah allowed the doctor to repeat his prognosis.

‘Can he be moved?’ asked Reginald, staring at his son. ‘Can I
take him home?’

‘I would not advise it. The wound is quite deep and any jolting
at this stage could start it bleeding again.’

‘But he cannot stay here, in the house of a man I hardly
know!’

Doctor Pannell’s bushy eyebrows drew together.

‘I understood the major was some sort of relative of yours, Mr
Buckland.’

Reginald shrugged.

‘Very distant. Oh, I admit it was through my letters to a
cousin that he heard about Rooks Tower being vacant, but I had never met him
until he moved here, and since then we have exchanged barely a dozen words. He
has never once come to West Barton.’

A grim little smile hovered on the doctor’s lips.

‘No, Major Coale has not gone out of his way to make himself
known to his neighbours.’

‘I think Nicky must stay here, Reginald.’ Zelah touched his
arm. ‘Major Coale has put his house and servants at our disposal.’

‘Aye, he must, at least until the wound begins to heal,’
averred Dr Pannell, picking up his hat. ‘Now, I shall be away and will return
tomorrow to see how my patient does.’

Reginald remained by the bed, staring down at his son and heir.
He rubbed his chin. ‘If only I knew what to do. If only his mama could be with
him!’

‘Impossible, when she is confined with little Reginald.’

‘Or Nurse.’

‘Yes, she would be ideal, but my sister and the new baby need
her skill and attentions,’ said Zelah. ‘I have considered all these
possibilities, Reginald, and I think there is only one solution. You must leave
Nicky to my care.’

‘But that’s just it,’ exclaimed Reginald. ‘I cannot leave you
here.’

‘And
I
cannot leave Nicky.’

‘Then I had best stay, too.’

Zelah laughed.

‘Now why should you do that? You know nothing about nursing.
And besides, what will poor Maria do if both you and I are away from home? I
know how my sister suffers with her nerves when she is alone for too long.’

‘Aye, she does.’ Reginald took a turn about the room, torn by
indecision.

Nicky stirred and muttered something in his sleep.

‘Go home, Reginald. These fidgets will disturb Nicky.’

‘But this is a bachelor household.’

‘That is unfortunate, of course, but it cannot be helped.’ She
dipped a cloth in the bowl of lavender water and gently wiped the boy’s brow.
‘If it is any comfort, Reginald, Major Coale has informed me—via his
housekeeper—that he will not come into this wing of the house while we are here.
Indeed, once he had seen Nicky safely into bed he disappeared, giving his
housekeeper orders to supply us with everything necessary. I shall sleep in the
anteroom here, so that I may be on hand should Nicky wake in the night, and I
will take my meals here. So you see there can be no danger of impropriety.’

Reginald did not look completely reassured.

‘Would you like me to send over our maid?’

‘Unnecessary, and it would give offence to Mrs Graddon.’ Zelah
smiled at him. ‘We shall go on very comfortably, believe me, if you will arrange
for some clothes to be sent over for us. And perhaps you will come again
tomorrow and bring some games for Nicky. Then we shall do very well.’

‘But it will not do! You are a gently bred young lady—’

‘I am soon to be a governess and must learn to deal with
situations such as this.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Trust me, Reginald. Nicky must
stay here and I shall remain to look after him until he can be moved to West
Barton. Now go and reassure Maria that all is well here.’

He took his leave at last and Zelah found herself alone in the
sickroom for the first time. Nicky was still sleeping soundly, which she knew
was a good thing, but it left her with little to do, except rearrange the room
to her satisfaction.

Zelah took dinner in the room, but the soup the housekeeper
brought up for Nicky remained untouched, for he showed no signs of waking.

* * *

‘Poor little lamb, sleep’s the best thing for him,’ said
Mrs Graddon when she came to remove the dishes. ‘Tomorrow I shall make some
lemon jelly, to tempt his appetite. I know he’s very fond of that.’

‘Oh?’ Zelah looked up. ‘Is my nephew in the habit of calling
here?’

‘Aye, bless his heart. If he finds an injured animal or bird in
the woods he often brings it here for the master to mend, and afore he goes he
always comes down to the kitchens to find me.’

Zelah put her hands to her cheeks, mortified.

‘Oh dear, he really should not be bothering Major Coale with
such things, or you.’

‘Lord love ’ee, mistress, the boy ain’t doin’ no ’arm,’
exclaimed Mrs Graddon. ‘In fact, I think ’e does the master good.’ She paused,
slanting a sidelong glance at Zelah. ‘You’ve probably noticed that the major
shuns company, but that’s because o’ this.’ She rubbed her finger over her left
temple. ‘Right across his chest, it goes, though thankfully it never touched his
vital organs. Took a cut to his thigh, too, but the sawbones stitched him up
before he ever came home, so his leg’s as good as new.’

‘But when he walks...’

The housekeeper tutted, smoothing down her apron.

‘He’s had the very finest doctors look at ’im and they can find
nothing wrong with his leg. They say ’tis all in his head. For the master don’t
always limp, as I’ve noticed, often and often.’ She sighed. ‘Before he went off
to war and got that nasty scar he was a great one for society—him and his
brother both. Twins they are and such handsome young men, they captured so many
hearts I can’t tell you!’

‘You’ve known the family for a long time?’

‘Aye, miss, I started as a housemaid at Markham, that’s the
family home, where the master’s brother, the viscount, now lives. Then when the
master decided to set up his own house here, Graddon and I was only too pleased
to come with him. But he don’t go into company, nor does he invite anyone here,
and I can understand that. I’ve seen ’em—when people meets the master, they look
everywhere but at his face and that do hurt him, you see. But Master Nick, well,
he treats the major no different from the rest.’

Zelah was silent. In her mind she was running over her meeting
with Major Coale. Had she avoided looking at his terrible scarred face? She
thought not, but when she had first seen him she believed he was attacking Nicky
and she had been in no mood for polite evasions.

The housekeeper went off and Zelah settled down to keep watch
upon her patient.

* * *

As the hours passed the house grew silent. She had a
sudden yearning for company and was tempted to go down to the kitchen in the
hope of meeting the housekeeper, or even a kitchen maid. She would do no such
thing, of course, and was just wondering how she could occupy herself when there
was a knock at the door. It was Mrs Graddon.

‘The major asked me to bring you these, since you likes
reading.’ She held out a basket full of books. ‘He says to apologise, but they’s
all he has at the moment, most of his books being still in the crates they
arrived in, but he hopes you’ll find something here to suit.’

‘Thank you.’ Zelah took the basket and retreated to her chair
by the fire, picking up the books one by one from the basket. Richardson,
Smollett, Defoe, even Mrs Radcliffe. She smiled. If she could not amuse herself
with these, then she did not deserve to be pleased. She was comforted by the
major’s thoughtfulness. Feeling much less lonely, she settled down, surrounded
by books.

* * *

It was after midnight when Nicky began to grow restless.
Zelah was stretched out on the bed prepared for her when she heard him mutter.
Immediately she was at his side, feeling his brow, trying to squeeze a little
water through his parched lips. He batted aside her hand and turned his head
away, muttering angrily. Zelah checked the bandages. They were still in place,
but if he continued to toss and turn he might well open the wound and set it
bleeding again.

She wished she had not refused Mrs Graddon’s offer to have a
truckle bed made up in the room for a maid, but rather than wring her hands in
an agony of regret she picked up her bedroom candle and set off to find some
help.

Zelah had not ventured from the yellow bedroom since she had
followed Nicky there earlier in the day. She retraced her steps back to the
great hall, too anxious about her nephew to feel menaced by the flickering
shadows that danced around her. There was a thin strip of light showing beneath
one of the doors off the hall and she did not hesitate. She crossed to the door
and knocked softly before entering.

She was in Major Coale’s study, and the man himself was sitting
before the dying fire, reading by the light of a branched candelabra on the
table beside him.

‘I beg your pardon, I need to find Mrs Graddon. It’s
Nicky...’

He had put down his book and was out of the chair even as she
spoke. He was not wearing his coat and the billowing shirt-sleeves made him look
even bigger than she remembered.

‘What is wrong with him?’

‘He is feverish and I c-cannot hold him....’

‘Let me see.’ He added, observing her hesitation, ‘I have some
knowledge of these matters.’

Zelah nodded, impatient to return to Nicky. They hurried
upstairs, the major’s dragging leg causing his shoe to scuff at each step. It
was no louder than a whisper, but it echoed through the darkness. Nicky’s
fretful crying could be heard even as they entered the anteroom. Zelah flew to
his side.

‘Hush now, Nicky. Keep still, love, or you will hurt your leg
again.’

‘It hurts now! I want Mama!’

The major put a gentle hand on his forehead.

‘She is looking after your little brother, sir. You have your
aunt and me to take care of you.’ He inspected the bottles ranged on the side
table and quickly mixed a few drops of laudanum into a glass of water.

The calm, male voice had its effect. Nicky blinked and fixed
his eyes on Zelah, who smiled at him.

‘You are a guest in the major’s house, Nicky.’

‘Oh.’ The little fingers curled around her hand. ‘And are you
staying here too, Aunt Zelah?’

‘She is,’ said the major, ‘for as long as you need her. Now,
sir, let me help you sit up a little and you must take your medicine.’

‘No, no, it hurts when I move.’

‘We will lift you very carefully,’ Zelah assured him.

‘I don’t want to...’

‘Come, sir, it is only a little drink and it will take the pain
away.’

The major slipped an arm about the boy’s shoulders and held the
glass to his lips. Nicky took a little sip and shuddered.

‘It is best taken in one go,’ the major advised him.

The little boy’s mouth twisted in distaste.

‘Did you take this when you were wounded?’

‘Gallons of it,’ said the major cheerfully. ‘Now, one, two,
three.’ He ruthlessly tipped the mixture down the boy’s throat. Nicky swallowed,
shuddered and his lip trembled. ‘There, it is done and you were very brave. Miss
Pentewan will turn your pillows and you will soon feel much more
comfortable.’

‘Will you stay, ’til I go to sleep again?’

‘You have your aunt here.’

‘Please.’

Zelah responded with a nod to the major’s quick glance of
enquiry.

‘Very well.’ He sat down at the side of the bed and took the
little hand that reached out for him.

‘Would you like me to tell you a story?’ asked Zelah, but Nicky
ignored her. He fixed his eyes upon the major.