Not by Sight (24 page)

The horror of what she’d done pressed in on her until she felt she couldn’t breathe. “Oh, cousin, it’s my fault!”

Her outburst garnered the attention of a few onlookers in the other room. “Easy, Grace.” Her cousin rose and put a hand on her shoulder. “Explain what you mean.”

Grace relayed to him the details of the costume ball. “Afterward, he left in such a hurry,” she finished miserably, staring at her lap. “I humiliated him in front of his peers. No doubt he rushed to the nearest enlistment office.” She shook her head. “I assumed he was no more than a titled, self-indulgent rogue, a coward who refused to take up the call of duty.”

She gazed out at the other room, where several boys in uniform and their partners danced. “I so wanted to do my duty to help win this war,” she said. “With the air attacks on London and my brother overseas, I thought if I shamed enough men like Jack Benningham into joining the Army, they would go and fight alongside him to end this thing, and bring Colin home. I feel terrible.” Her voice broke. “Jack wears those scars because of my foolishness. He may never see again.” She buried her face in her hands. “His life is ruined because of me.”

“Grace.” Her cousin pried her hands free and held them, forcing her to look at him. “Your patriotism and your love for your brother are admirable,” he said gently. “And I understand your fear. But war is brutal and unforgiving, and very different from the propaganda we read about in newspapers and
see on posters.” He seemed to flinch, adding, “As a physician, I’ve tended to countless injuries of the men returning home. I can’t begin to describe to you the horror—poison gas, mines, and mortars. No one deserves to go through that kind of hell.

“But remember, Lord Roxwood is a grown man. He’s wealthy, titled, and if his former reputation is any indication, he does exactly as he chooses without concern for what others might think. The man knows his own mind, Grace. If he decided to get on that ship, it wasn’t because of anything you said or did.” When she still looked unconvinced, he added, “Do you really think him the kind of man to lay blame for his fate at the feet of a lovely but naïve young woman?”

But Grace barely heard his words, unable to get past what she’d done. She’d ruined a man’s life, taken his sight. She recalled their earlier conversation, about heavy costs. Was that what Jack had meant by “high stakes”?

Confusion, shame, and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her. “I need to leave, cousin,” she said wearily, “and return to the gatehouse.”

“Shall I drive you, Grace?”

She shook her head. “I must return Lord Roxwood’s Daimler to the manor. The walk from there isn’t far.” At his concerned look, she said, “It’s all just a bit of a shock.”

“I must leave also.” He helped her to rise from the chair. “I’ll follow you out.”

Grace went in search of Mrs. Vance. “Go and get some rest, dear,” the older woman said when she’d made her excuses. “I’ll round up the others in a while, and we’ll have Mr. Tillman bring us back in the cart.”

The farmer returned from the refreshment table just then to hand Mrs. Vance a glass of lemonade and a slice of cake. She accepted with an animated smile.

“Miss Mabry,” he said, winking at Grace.

“Mr. Tillman.” Grace hid her surprise over his congeniality toward her. If only she deserved it. “I’ll see you both later,” she said, and was off.

Grace said good-bye to her cousin outside, then drove back to the manor. The evening air had cooled from the day’s heat, but in her numbed state she was hardly aware of it.

How could she have been so insensible? She thought back to the young men at the dance, the mothers and fathers clinging to their sons. Many wounded and damaged in unseen ways.

She’d beat the drum with others, keen to make certain every man in Britain did his duty to the Crown. How did that kind of patriotism equate with love, or human kindness?

Despite her wish to bring Colin home, how could she have been so calloused as to humiliate another man, someone else’s brother or son, to make him risk his life in the same way?

Grace returned to the gatehouse and climbed the stairs to her room. So as not to disturb Agnes, she left the gas lamp off while she changed clothes. She slipped into bed, wishing she could hide there forever. And yet Monday would come soon enough. How could she face Jack, knowing what she’d done?

A quiet sob floated across the darkness, and Grace rose on an elbow. Not Agnes surely; the sound had come from Lucy’s bed. “Hello?”

“G-grace? Is that you?”

“Lucy?” Grace rose and padded toward the lamp. She paused. “I don’t wish to awaken Agnes.”

“She’s not here.”

“Did she go to the dance, after all?” Grace lit the lamp and saw Lucy lying on her bed fully clothed, even down to her button-up shoes.

“I haven’t seen her.”

“Are you all right? Does Mrs. Vance know you’re here?”

Lucy sat up, wiping at her tears. “No, I . . . I just left.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Grace said gently, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “They’ll be looking for you.”

Lucy shrugged. “I got scared and ran.”

“You walked back from the dance?”

Lucy nodded. “All I wanted was to g-get away, to hide from him.”

“Who?” She gripped Lucy’s shoulders. “Is someone after you?”

Lucy nodded again and began to cry.

“Lucy, please stop that. Explain yourself so I can help you.”

“No one can!” She cried harder. “I know God is going to punish me for what I d-did!”

Grace felt uneasy over Lucy’s words. She’d been having those same thoughts. Still, she said, “Nonsense. Tell me everything, and we’ll get this sorted.” When Lucy continued weeping silently, she added, “We’re sisters in the WFC and we stick together, don’t we?”

Lucy’s crying stopped. Grace took hope. “If one of us fails, then we all fail. Isn’t that what Mrs. Vance taught us? So if you have a problem, you need to come to us. We protect each other,” she added softly.

Lucy’s mottled expression twisted as she seemed to wrestle with some inner conflict. Finally, she said, “Remember the day we worked together in town and you asked about my life in London? You said I could be anything in the world I wanted to be?”

Grace offered an encouraging smile. “You told me you wished to become a veterinarian.”

Lucy looked away. “We also talked about secrets.”

Grace tensed, reminded of her own secret. “Is that what this is about, Lucy? You have something you wish to share with me?”

Lucy turned to her. “I told you I was in service.” She spoke
haltingly. “But the services I performed aren’t the kind a well-bred young lady like you should know about.”

Grace understood, and her breath caught. “You mean, you were a . . .”

“Prostitute.” Lucy’s cheeks flamed. “I don’t make excuses for my life, Grace, or how it turned out.” She wiped at her face with the hem of her skirt. “I’d met Marie, another woman in . . . that kind of service. I remembered her from school. She was older and, like me, from southeast London. Marie knew my family and how cruel my pa was.” The turquoise eyes met Grace’s. “She showed me a way out.”

Grace pursed her lips to keep from voicing her objections.

Lucy’s smile was bitter. “I can see it on your face, Grace Mabry, your look of disgust. But you don’t know what I went through.” Her words held an edge of desperation. “Marie made it sound so easy to escape all of that.

“There was a man we w-worked for, he set things up. I’d only just started when Marie got real sick.” She eyed Grace. “I won’t tell you what it was, just that she got it from some of the soldiers home on leave. There’s medicine for it, but she hid her condition until it was too late.

“Before she died, Marie gave me a packet. It was money, Grace. Every shilling she’d saved over the years. A miracle I hadn’t expected. When I asked her why she didn’t use the money for a cure, she said she’d waited too long, she was afraid they would arrest her, or that the man we worked for . . . he was mean.” She stared across the room, her expression sad. “There was no help for her. She told me she’d made a terrible mistake with me, and it was time to settle up with God. She wanted me to g-get out while I could. She said it was my only chance.”

Lucy’s gaze shot back to her. “I took that chance! Between Marie and me, there was enough money so I could move across town, buy myself some respectability. I got new clothes and a
flat, and I p-purchased letters of recommendation. I hired on with the WFC to get as far away from that world as possible.” Fresh tears filled her eyes. “But now it’s f-found me again!”

“Please, don’t cry.” Grace pulled her close, feeling Lucy’s shoulders shake with sobs. The knot in her stomach cinched further. “Was it your father, Lucy? Did he find you at the dance tonight?”

“He’s dead.” Lucy pulled away. “But the man we worked for, he’s still looking for me. There was a soldier at the dance tonight from London. He’s here staying with his friend in the village. He saw me, remembered me f-from . . . before. He was drinking . . .”

A cry tore from her. “He threatened to tell everyone in Roxwood what I was if I didn’t go with him. He swore he would telephone London and tell the pimp he’d found me. Grace, I was so f-frightened, I ran all the way back here.”

She hung her head. “What can I do? I’ll be cast out of the WFC and out of Roxwood, and the horrible man I worked for will come after me and drag me back.” She clutched at Grace’s hand. “I can’t go, I swear, I’ll end my own life first.”

“You’re not going anywhere, do you hear me?” Grace shook her gently. “We will resolve this, I promise.” Her mind raced. “In fact, I believe Lord Roxwood will help.”

Grace hoped she was right. Despite Lucy’s lurid past, Jack’s sense of justice would surely prevail. He wouldn’t allow anyone to take the woman against her will. “I’ll speak to him Monday morning when I take him driving. If you’ll allow me to share with him just the pertinent part of your story, I’m certain he’ll champion your cause.”

“Grace, you’re a sweet, innocent girl, but I know d-different. I’ll have to leave.” Lucy spoke through her tears.

“You must have faith, Lucy.” Grace rose from the bed. “Now get some rest. The others will return shortly.” She reached to
brush at a lock of Lucy’s hair. “And don’t do anything rash, because we’re going to get this sorted. We’ve got church early tomorrow. I want you sitting beside me during the service, just in case that troublemaking soldier decides to show himself.”

“I’m not going to church.”

Grace straightened. “Why not?”

Lucy glanced down at her lap. “I’m too ashamed.”

“We all make mistakes, Lucy. Thankfully, God loves us in spite of them. Have you never heard the phrase, ‘No sin is greater than His mercy’?”

Lucy looked up and shook her head.

“Well, it means you, too. After all, He gave us free will.” Grace smiled. “And by leaving that life behind, you’ve exerted yours admirably.”

Lucy’s lips curved upward. “I think you must be an angel sent to me. Thank you f-for not hating me because of my past.”

“Never,” Grace assured her. “Now get some rest.”

Returning to her own bed, and the guilt about Jack still weighing on her, Grace’s smile faded.
No sin is greater
than His mercy
. Why couldn’t she take her own advice?

16

Seated in the crowded pew, Grace scanned the opposite side of the church and locked gazes with a young soldier standing with his companion against the wall. He was tall and lean, black-haired with brown eyes. Below his pencil-thin mustache, he had a nice mouth except for the smirk he occasionally shot in their direction.

Her pulse raced as she glanced at Lucy, seated beside her with hands clenched in her lap. Grace reached to pat them reassuringly, then returned her attention to the insolent face across the room.

“You see him, don’t you?” Lucy whispered.

“Yes, but don’t worry. He won’t get near you while I’m here,” she whispered back.

The rest of the church was filled with locals. As usual, the six women had to squeeze into a row at the back, along with Mr. Tillman who had brought them this morning in the horse cart.

On the other side of her, Agnes muffled a yawn. She’d returned to the gatehouse late last night along with the others and wore her pink shirtwaist. Apparently she’d recovered from
her headache and attended the dance after all, just missing Grace’s departure.

As promised, Sir Marcus arrived just after the entrance song. He’d moved to stand behind Clare, and her friend’s continual fidgeting made it obvious she was aware of his presence.

Grace hadn’t expected Jack to attend and felt worse for it, knowing his anger at God must stem from his inability to see, his wounds—injuries she’d helped to set into motion.

“‘Do not bring your servant into judgment, for no one living is righteous before you.’”

The words of Psalm 143 echoed through the church as Reverend Price spoke of pride and the dangers of judging others. Grace felt their impact. She prayed for forgiveness, for the wisdom to stop making assumptions, and above all, to seek the truth.

She also prayed for Colin’s safety, jarred by the sight of the injured men at the dance. She couldn’t bear to think what might happen to her brother.

The service ended, and the people began filing out of the pews. Grace pressed closer to Lucy as the soldier rounded the last pew and winked at her before exiting with his friend.

“What a horrid man.” Grace gripped Lucy’s arm, hurrying her ahead of the others to exit the church. “He kept leering at us; I was surprised no one else saw it.”

Lucy fought back tears. “What am I to do, Grace? By tonight the entire village will know my past.”

Seeing her despair, Grace said, “I’d planned to wait and speak with Lord Roxwood, but as you say, the scoundrel likely won’t keep his mouth shut until then.”

The pair of soldiers stood across the churchyard, talking with an older couple. Occasionally the young man would turn to them with a mocking grin.

“How I would love to wipe that smirk off his face,” Grace
said. “Lucy, we need to ask Sir Marcus for help. He’s with Clare.” She nodded toward the couple standing beside the hedgerow across the green. “Will you allow me to share your secret with her? I believe she can convince him to help us.”

Lucy’s turquoise eyes looked frightened. “If you think it best, but I d-don’t want to see their faces when you tell them. I’d like to go and sit with Agnes and Becky in the cart.”

“Of course.” Grace smiled encouragingly. “And don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

———

“Miss Danner, I know this might seem sudden, but I’d very much like to call on you,” Sir Marcus Weatherford said. “Would you allow me the privilege?”

Clare could only stare back at him. His words were soft, his brown eyes entreating as he gazed at her with hope. Her heart pounded so loud she was certain he could hear it. Just as she had felt the night before when he’d arrived at the dance, her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth. When she’d first seen him in the barn, she’d felt the attraction between them. It had scared her. She’d also enjoyed dancing with him, his gentle words, his manners. It had been so long since she’d had the attentions of a handsome man.

Sir Marcus Weatherford was all that, and his behavior toward her had been decent. But how long would it last?
He’s one of them
, a small voice inside her cried. A titled gentleman of the aristocracy, the type of man who more times than not disregarded the feelings of those he considered beneath him. What could he want with her, other than a dalliance until he got bored?

Painful memories rushed to her mind: being rejected by a man she thought she’d loved but who never considered her good enough; her shame at being sent away to the Magdalene House where she’d been forced to suffer her heartbreak alone
and in silence, her only consolation the child she would bear; then the horror of having Daisy stolen from her.

Clare wet her lips, searching his face. There was something about him that drew her, yet she was afraid . . .

“Clare, may I speak with you?”

She turned and let out a breath, watching Grace approach from across the churchyard. “Excuse me a moment, Sir Marcus.” She didn’t wait for his response as she hurried toward her friend.

She met Grace halfway across the green expanse. “What is it?” she said.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve something to share with you. Lucy’s in trouble.”

Clare blinked, shocked to hear of Lucy’s past, and furious over her being threatened by a soldier at the dance. “Which one is he?” she demanded when Grace had finished her tale.

“He’s the young man with the mustache.” Grace nodded toward a pair of soldiers standing with a couple she’d seen in church. The one with the mustache chose that moment to glance toward the cart, where Lucy sat with Becky and the others.

Clare saw him smirk. “I’m going over to talk with Lucy,” she said, seized with an urge to protect their friend.

“Clare, wait.” Grace put a hand on her arm. “Lucy is embarrassed enough as it is. She only gave me leave to speak because we need your help. Actually, we need the assistance of Sir Marcus.”

Clare felt a prickle of caution. “How does it affect me?”

“You seem to have a particular influence over him,” Grace said. “I’m certain if you ask Sir Marcus to make the soldier desist in his threats—”

“No!” Clare nursed her previous anger. “I’ll not be obligated to any man, and certainly not him. Why would he agree to help, anyway? Men like him place reputation above compassion,
especially when it comes to a ‘soiled dove.’ I should know,” she added bitterly. “I’m sorry, Grace, but it’s hopeless.”

Just as it was hopeless for him to call upon her, Clare thought. In the end, he would break her heart. Besides, she had to find Daisy. “He’ll return to London tomorrow, and that will be an end to it.”

“How can you know for certain he won’t help us unless you ask him?”

“Trust me, I know.” Clare crossed her arms.

“Clare, I’ve learned you can’t judge people,” Grace said, and Clare was surprised at the fleeting sadness in her friend’s expression. “Everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. Sir Marcus
is
different from the rest. And since he’s leaving for London tomorrow, as you say, why not ask this one boon . . . for our sister in need? I told Lucy we help one another.” She paused. “Don’t you agree?”

Of course she did. Grace didn’t understand her situation. “He’s asked to call on me, you know.”

Grace blinked. “You mean it?”

Clare nodded.

“Why, that’s wonderful!” Grace clapped her hands, then froze. “You didn’t tell him no?”

“I was about to when you interrupted us.” Clare scowled, adding, “Though you’ve put me into a fine kettle with Lucy’s problem. How can I tell the man I don’t want to see him again and then ask him for a favor?”

“Surely, you can’t mean that. I saw you two dancing last night and talking at the table. What’s changed?”

“I realized there is no future in any kind of romantic relationship with him.”

Grace shook her head. “I think you’re just afraid he’ll break your heart.”

“He doesn’t have my heart.”

“I think he’s fairly close to having it,” Grace said softly.

Grace glanced over at Sir Marcus. Clare followed her gaze and felt a pang at seeing him standing patiently, watching them, a small, uncertain smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Look, why not just put off your answer for a bit?” Grace said. “Tell him you’ll consider his request. After all, the two of you just met. And as this will likely lead to courtship, it’s a serious undertaking for any woman. Who knows? You might feel differently later. That way you can ask his assistance in ridding Lucy of this troublemaker.”

Clare turned to her. “I don’t know . . .”

“View it as a test of sorts,” Grace challenged. “See if he’s the consummate highbrow you make him out to be.”

“You’re clever, Mabry, but my mind’s made up,” Clare said. “I’m not going to court anyone, least of all some ‘highbrow.’” She sighed. “I will help Lucy, though. I doubt she’s ever met an aristocrat in her life, but she and I both know what it feels like to be ill-used.”

Grace beamed. “I knew you would help.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Clare warned. “And if I’m right, you’ll have to wash and press my uniforms for a week.”

“And if I’m right and you’re wrong?”

Clare said smugly, “I’ll spend the week polishing your boots and lacing your gaiters.”

“Deal.” Grace held out a gloved hand.

Clare took it. “I’ll go and talk to him now.”

She walked back toward the handsome man waiting for her, already knowing what he would say. But she’d agreed to try to help Lucy. “I apologize for leaving you so quickly, Sir Marcus. We’ve a bit of a situation.”

“May I be of service?”

At his look of genuine concern, Clare wavered in her assumptions about him. She decided to postpone answering his request to call upon her; she would first see if he came to Lucy’s aid. A
test of sorts, Grace had said. “Miss Mabry would like a word with you, if you would follow me?”

———

Grace watched as her friend and Sir Marcus talked quietly beside the hedgerow. She prayed she hadn’t been wrong about the lieutenant. Jack had said he was a good man, and for Clare’s sake, Lucy’s too, she hoped he was right.

She held her breath when Clare turned and, along with Sir Marcus, began walking in her direction. Once they’d arrived, Clare said, “Tell him what you told me, Grace.”

As Grace disclosed to him the pertinent details of Lucy’s situation, his features darkened with fury. He turned to the pair of soldiers across the churchyard. “Which one is he?”

“Sir Marcus, please don’t make a scene.” Clare darted a worried glance at Grace. “I understand if you’re angry with us, but don’t hurt our friend—”

“You think I’m angry at you?” He turned a surprised look at Clare, then Grace.

“Aren’t you?” Clare said in a hesitant voice.

His features relaxed, and he reached for her hand. “I apologize. I am angry, but it’s
for
you and your friends. Now, tell me which one he is and I’ll rectify the matter immediately.”

Grace felt relieved while Clare’s eyes widened. “You’ll help?”

“Of course, and I have the power to do it.” He flashed a smile. “I’m a lieutenant in the Admiralty, remember? These recruits
will
do my bidding.”

Clare turned to her, a dazed smile spread across her face. “Grace, please bring me those boots.”