Carola Dunn (16 page)

However, he waited to broach the purpose of his visit until Amos had gone up to the nursery and Isaac had joined them for a cold collation. Tall and dark, his host’s slender build belied a resilient strength that had twice saved Felix’s life. It was difficult to believe he had once hated Isaac Cohen with a bitter passion.

“Felix has just returned from Brussels,” Miriam told her husband, “and he is already off again. We should never see him if we did not live near the Dover road.”

“Where are you bound for now?” Isaac asked, carving a chicken into neat slices.

“Back to Brussels, but on my own account. Friends of mine need my help, a brother and sister who shared my lodgings. Frank was badly wounded on the first day of fighting. The trouble is, there’s no point going back just to help Miss Ingram take care of him. A servant could do that as well. And if I offered her money to hire a servant, she is too proud to accept it.”

“If your friend is fit to travel,” said Miriam at once, “you must bring him here.”

“May I?” He had known he could rely upon their generosity! “That is what I hoped, I confess. My lodgings in London are barely adequate for myself and my servant, and I cannot take them to Westwood.”

“Of course not. Somerset is much too far for an injured man to travel.”

Felix nodded agreement, though distance had been a minor consideration. He had tried, and failed, to imagine explaining to his parents the arrival of an unknown artillery captain in dire need of medical attention, his shabby sister, and their illegitimate ward. Fanny and Frank would most definitely not receive the warm reception at Westwood he expected for Lady Sophia.

“Just as you supposed, my love,” Isaac said teasingly, “we owe his visit to our position near the Dover road. No doubt your medical skills also have something to do with the matter. Felix, you had best explain your friend’s injuries to Miriam so that she can mix up the appropriate witch’s brew.”

“I shall. But before you confirm the invitation, I ought to tell you...” He hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “It’s not just Frank and Miss Ingram, there is Anita, too. She is the daughter of a friend of theirs who died at Ciudad Rodrigo, and I must warn you that she is a...a love-child.”

“Yes, it’s best to know,” said Miriam, “so that one can be sure not to say anything that might hurt or offend.”

“You don’t mind?” Felix’s relief was mingled with curiosity. “Does Jewish law not discriminate against illegitimacy?”

“Jewish law! You will have to ask Isaac. Common humanity ought not to lay the faults of the parents upon the innocent child.”

Felix turned to Isaac, who grinned, his rather serious, intense face transformed. “As long as the child is old enough to throw a ball and not to chew on wooden horses, she will be warmly welcomed in the nursery. If she is an infant in arms, Amos for one will not be pleased.”

“Isaac, how can you speak so! Of course Anita is welcome, Felix, whatever her age, and she cannot be a baby since her father was killed in Spain.”

“She is three and a half. I daresay I had best visit the nursery before I leave and try to turn Hannah up sweet.”

“You always could twist Hannah around your little finger,” Isaac said. “I don’t know if it’s your handsome face or your devastating charm.”

“Both,” said his wife promptly, adding, to quash Felix’s smugness, “and your title doesn’t hurt a bit. In any case, Hannah would be sadly disappointed if you didn’t drop in to say hello. Are you sure you cannot stay the night?”

“Thank you, but no. Brussels is in turmoil, overwhelmed by the numbers of wounded. Fanny is pluck to the backbone but I cannot bear to think of her struggling alone.”

His sense of urgency reanimated, he turned his full attention to his luncheon, ignoring the enigmatic glance that passed between Miriam and Isaac.

* * * *

When Felix let himself into Madame Vilvoorde’s house, he was taken aback to hear Fanny’s laughter floating down from above. His spirits rose at the sound yet, tired and hungry after the ride from Ostend, he could not repress a certain pique. She seemed to be getting on very well without him.

He trudged up the stairs. Half way up, he recognized the masculine voice issuing from Frank’s chamber: Captain Mercer. His resentment swelled.

From the doorway where he paused, unnoticed, he saw Frank lying back against a heap of pillows, a faint smile on his pain-sculptured face. Fanny sat slumped in the armchair. Even in the dusk, Felix noted the smudges under her eyes; she propped her head on one hand as if it were too heavy for her slender, delicate neck.

“...and there were Boney’s lancers,” Mercer was saying. “We opened fire and a moment later that black cloud burst like a magazine blowing up. You couldn’t hear the guns for the thunder. Lord Uxbridge--he was commanding the rear guard--yelled at us to fire a last round then gallop for our lives. The lancers would have caught us if not for the deluge. After that it was just skirmishing. One of Whinyates’ rockets blew up a French gun, Frank, but another of the bloody things turned arsy-versy and chased me up the road.”

That brought the faint smile back to Frank’s lips. Fanny, laughing again, turned slightly and caught sight of Felix.

“Lord Roworth!” The incredulous joy that lit her face was ample compensation for his journey, even including a choppy Channel crossing. She started up from the chair and came to him, both hands held out.

As he took them in his, an odd tremor shook him. Pity, of course, aroused by the thin, pale face in which her brown eyes seemed huge. “I brought a letter for the Duke,” he explained, reluctant to admit that he had returned for her sake--and Anita’s, and Frank’s.

“Evening, my lord,” said Mercer, sketching a salute. “Well, I’ll be on my way, Miss Fanny. The next episode will keep for another day. We’ll have you on your feet again in no time, Frank.”

“I’ll see you out, Cav,” Fanny said, pulling her hands from Felix’s clasp.

“No, you stay here, I’ll see the captain out,” Felix offered promptly. He stepped back onto the landing.

Mercer followed, and Fanny came after him. Now she gave him her hand, and he took it in both his. “Thank you, Cav. Your visits take his mind off the pain,” she said in an unsteady voice.

“He’ll be all right, my dear. It’s a matter of time.”

“I know there are many others with worse injuries, it’s just that...” Biting her lip, she retreated into her brother’s chamber.

“When someone you love is hurt, no one else counts,” Mercer completed her sentence. “It was a bloody business, my lord.”

“I heard Lord Fitzroy Somerset and Sir Alexander Gordon were hit,” Felix said, leading the way down the stairs. His friends had never been far from his mind. “Do you happen to know how badly?”

The captain answered with a soldier’s bluntness. “Colonel Gordon lost his leg and died in Wellington’s own bed. Lord Uxbridge lost a leg, too, at the last minute when the French were in retreat, but he’ll survive. He told the Marquise d’Assche he’d soon be dancing with her with a wooden leg. Colonel Canning’s dead.”

“And Fitzroy?”

“His right arm. It’s said that he called out to the surgeon, ‘Hallo, don’t carry away that arm till I’ve taken off my ring.’“

“The ring Emily gave him.” There were others he ought to enquire after, but tonight he couldn’t face it. He opened the front door. “Thank you, captain.”

“Shall you be here long?”

“Until Ingram is well enough to travel. Then I shall take the three of them back to England.”

It was nearly dark outside and he could not see Mercer’s face, but the surprise and suspicion in his voice were unmistakable. “To England! Why the devil...?”

“He’ll receive better medical care there.”

“No doubt. But you’re not related, my lord; you’re not even connected with the regiment... Oh, so that’s it.”

Felix guessed that the captain believed his motive to be a civilian’s guilt at having escaped the carnage of war. Let him. It was as good an explanation as any for the unaccountable, quixotic impulse that had brought him back to Brussels.

He went back into the house. Fanny was coming down the stairs, every step a visible effort. She smiled at him.

“Frank is sleeping. Roworth, it is so good to have you back. Have you eaten?”

“Not since Ostend, and not much then. I was humiliatingly seasick.”

“But you are recovered? I shall see what Henriette can provide.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. I’ll throw myself on Henriette’s tender mercies, while you go and sit down. We must talk.”

“Yes, my lord.” Miraculously her irrepressible, irresistible dimples had survived her ordeal.

A few minutes later he entered the parlour carrying a tray. On it a pot of tea stood beside a plate of steaming stew in which, he noticed, turnips, carrots, and onions were more in evidence than meat. Fanny was curled up unselfconsciously in a chair by the empty fireplace. He poured her a cup of tea, then sat down opposite her with the tray on his lap.

Even Henriette’s talents had not succeeded in rendering the vegetable stew better than edible. As he picked at it, she could not tear her gaze from him, still scarcely able to believe he had really returned.

“Tell me, how is Anita?” he asked.

“Well, but a trifle crotchety. The poor child has had a sad time of it for she does not understand that I cannot give her my full attention. Hoskins has been splendid with her.”

“I’m glad you’ve had his help. I saw him just now in the kitchen.”

“He must return to his unit soon, alas. I believe Henriette will miss him as much as we shall, or more!” She sipped her tea, avoiding his eyes. He must not guess how desperately she longed for him to stay. “Shall you be here long?”

“That depends on Frank. Is he fit to travel?”

“To travel?” Bewildered, she stared at him. “I don’t know. It is difficult to find a doctor who has not more urgent cases to deal with. But in any case...”

“There are doctors aplenty in England. I want you to come back with me.”

Her mouth quivered. If only she could accept! “Oh Roworth, it is excessively kind of you to offer us your escort, but we have nowhere to go in England.”

“I have found you somewhere.” There was a note of triumph in his voice. Setting aside the tray, he leaned forward and said earnestly, “I have spoken of your plight to friends of mine, and they will be more than happy to take you in.”

“We cannot possibly accept the hospitality of people we have never even met!”

“Not in general, perhaps, but the Cohens would never turn away anyone in need.”

“Miriam Cohen?” she cried, agitated. Miriam Cohen, whom he had loved and still admired? “I will not beg her charity.”

“Do you mislike Jews? You have too much sense to be as stupidly prejudiced as I once was.”

“How can you ask? Have I not welcomed Mr Solomon and others of your couriers? But how can the Cohens be your friends when...when...”

“When Miriam turned me down in favour of Isaac? If you meet them perhaps you’ll understand. Won’t you reconsider, for Frank’s sake? Miriam learned a great deal of medicine from her doctor uncle. She still treats her dependents and the local people, and she is certain she’ll be able to help your brother.”

“Will she?” Her resolve weakened.

“She saved me the use of my shoulder. Besides, she has a son near Anita’s age who is in despair because his baby sister is too young to play catch with him.”

Fanny gave him a tentative smile. “And toy soldiers?”

“What little boy worth his salt doesn’t want to play with toy soldiers?”

She sighed. “None, unfortunately. Did you tell them about Anita’s...birth?”

“I did. It is of no account. Will you come?”

“You did not persuade Mr and Mrs Cohen to invite us against their better judgment?”

“Miriam offered before I had even asked.”

“Then how can I let a scruple stand in the way of Frank’s recovery? Yes, we will come.”

“Frank won’t object?”

“Frank is in no case to object. Now, my lord, finish your dinner, pray, or Mrs Cohen and I shall have two of you to nurse.”

He grinned, happy to hear the ironic note returned to her voice. Nearly cold, the stew was even less appetizing. Pushing the remains around his plate, he silently vowed to send Hoskins out first thing in the morning with a fistful of the ready to restock the larder.

He hadn’t told Fanny yet about his huge bonus from his employer. She’d be happy for him that he was able at last to help his family.

As he opened his mouth to tell her, he realized she was fast asleep, her cheek pillowed on her hand. A stiff neck was inevitable if she stayed there all night, he thought with a twinge of fellow-feeling.

The scarcely touched dinner delivered to an offended Henriette in the kitchen, Felix went upstairs to open the door to Fanny’s chamber. A night-lamp revealed Anita’s dark, tousled locks and cherubic face on one pillow. Smiling, he held the lamp high and studied her long black eyelashes and delicate features. A good thing Amos was too young to have his heart broken.

He turned back the counterpane on the other bed, then went back downstairs. Fanny stirred as he picked her up but did not wake. His heart swelled with gladness that he had returned as, featherlight in his arms, she nestled her head trustingly against his shoulder.

Chapter 12

Wielding his title, Felix had no trouble finding an army surgeon willing to examine Frank. He arranged to meet him later at Madame Vilvoorde’s and went on to deliver Nathan Rothschild’s letter to the Duke of Wellington.

The atmosphere at Headquarters was more like mourning than celebration. Felix ventured to congratulate the Duke on his victory.

“By God, it is difficult to rejoice in a victory that has cost me so many friends!” Wellington exclaimed. “It was a dreadful business, and a close-run thing. I hope to God that I have fought my last battle.” He scanned the letter. “Tell Mr Rothschild, if you please, that I shall do myself the honour of calling upon him when I return to London. He is as responsible as I for our success. You’ll see Fitzroy and Emily before you leave?”

“Yes, sir, if he is well enough to receive visitors.”