Summerset Abbey: Spring Awakening (Summerset Abbey Trilogy) (16 page)

She stood frozen in place for a moment as his words washed over her. How different they were to Jon’s confusing mix of coldness and hesitant affection, and how comforting to hear a profession so definitive, so without conditions. She clung to him then, burying her face in the lapel of his uniform, not caring what the other patrons might think. Jon’s judgments of her would always be clouded by her family, whereas Sebastian saw only her. He’d even turned her faults into something good and honorable. “Thank you,” she said, unable to say more.

Sebastian kissed the top of her head. “With that said, I do want you to know that I won’t hold you to our engagement. I want you to be very, very sure that marrying me is what you want. If Jo—” He stopped then as if unable to complete his rival’s name. “If someone else would make you happier, then I want you to be with him. Our parents’ generation had too many unhappy marriages, don’t you think? I don’t want to mimic their mistakes. There are more important things than wealth or status.”

The words reminded her of her father’s, and the affection she felt for Sebastian deepened. She started to speak again but he shook his head. “Please don’t. Just think about what I said. Let’s spend tomorrow together, and then I will take you back to Kent. If you still wish to be married, we will do so the next time I have leave. Let’s not put it off anymore. I don’t need a big wedding, do you?”

She shook her head and he bent to kiss her lips. She longed to give her whole heart to Sebastian, but kept getting muddled by the image of Jon. As she made her way to her room, she fought to calm her thoughts so that she could hear what her heart was telling her. But unfortunately, her heart seemed as befuddled as her mind.

*  *  *

It took only a few days for Victoria to gain back her strength, and she credited her recovery to the combined efforts of the equally doting Eleanor and Nanny Iris.
Why have I never thought to live with a nurse before?
she wondered as she went about her duties at the hospital. Between Eleanor’s eagle eye and Nanny Iris’s herbal concoctions, Victoria felt stronger than ever. Of course, she was now heeding Eleanor’s advice to get plenty of rest and moderate exercise, though she felt rather silly doing the calisthenics Eleanor had prescribed for her.

She tried not to think of Kit too much and knew it was unrealistic of her to expect a letter so soon. If he was on the kind of mission she thought he might be on—scouting in enemy territory or some other type of clandestine work—he might not be able to get his mail for weeks.

So she kept her mind occupied by throwing herself into her work. She wasn’t sure if it was nursing that fulfilled her so or
that she was using her herbal knowledge for a concrete purpose, but she awoke each morning with the satisfaction that she was truly making a difference. Victoria now knew that she needed to work for the betterment of others in order to feel complete. It wasn’t surprising considering her upbringing. If that made her a do-good, then so be it.

“Miss Buxton, Nurse Baxter wishes to speak with you in her office when you have a moment.”

Victoria hid a worried frown. The nurse’s tone made it obvious that she thought Victoria was in trouble and relished the prospect. Victoria finished the bed she’d been making and hurried to the office. To Nurse Baxter,
when you have a moment
meant “immediately.”

When Victoria arrived at the study, she discovered that Nurse Baxter wasn’t alone. One of the staff doctors and a slim, well-dressed woman were standing in front of the matron’s desk.

“Oh, excuse me,” Victoria said, backing out of the room.

“Come in, Miss Buxton. I called you here to meet Dame Katharine Furse. She is the head of the Voluntary Aid Detachment. And, of course, you know Dr. Vidal.”

For a moment Victoria was speechless, unsure of how to greet the estimable Dame Furse. Her upbringing would have her curtsy, but that seemed out of place under the circumstances.

Dame Furse remedied the situation by reaching out and grasping Victoria’s hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, my dear.”

“Likewise, Dame Furse.” Victoria nodded at the doctor.

“Dame Furse is looking to take several VADs to France with her for a pilot program. You do know that VADs are not traditionally dispatched to the front, don’t you?”

Victoria nodded and Nurse Baxter continued, “Last month, she took two VADs with her to inspect the nurses at the front.
She wouldn’t allow them to nurse, but rather assigned them duties in the canteens. After an attack by the enemy, these young women were pressed into nursing duties and acquitted themselves very well.”

“I was most impressed and believe that VADs have something valuable to offer to our soldiers and our wonderful nurses at the front,” Dame Furse said.

“Yes, ma’am.” Victoria swallowed, so in awe she could hardly breathe.

“She came to us looking for a likely young woman to round out her team, and both Dr. Vidal and I agreed that you would be an excellent choice.”

Exhilaration burst forth and Victoria felt almost dizzy. Of all the VADs in the hospital, they had selected
her
. Victoria imagined herself as a proverbial Florence Nightingale—Eleanor had the book
Notes on Nursing
by Miss Nightingale, and though Victoria, who far preferred her novels and poetry, had only skimmed it, she thought going to the front sounded incredibly exciting. “Thank you, Nurse Baxter. Thank you, Dr. Vidal.” Victoria had a difficult time even forming the words.

Katherine Furse smiled. “They have told me your knowledge of plants and healing herbs is second to no one’s and you have a wonderfully sunny attitude, which I’m afraid you might find tried at the front. But they have also told me something which concerns me a bit.”

Victoria’s heart sank. They found out about her internment at Holloway Prison. They wouldn’t take her because she had been so very stupid. Would her foolishness follow her around for the rest of her life?

“They told me you suffer from chronic asthma.”

Victoria closed her eyes for a moment.

“I don’t wish to take someone if it will compromise her own health. Plus, we will not have the time nor the resources to care for you.”

“You won’t have to,” Victoria burst out. “My asthma is mostly controlled. I have a nebulizer that works very well when I have an attack, and I have learned how to lessen the number of attacks I have with herbal teas and tinctures.” She looked from Nurse Baxter to the doctor and back to Dame Furse.

Victoria swallowed. It was so important that she say this properly. “I spent much of my childhood bedridden with my asthma. I worked very hard to become healthy and have learned how to take care of myself. I’ve also worked at not allowing asthma to define who I am. But in some ways it has. I am much more conscious of what it’s like to be bedridden because of my experiences. So while I don’t like to think that asthma formed me, it did. I am a better aide because of it.”

She could say more, but kept her mouth shut. If they didn’t understand after all of that, there was nothing she could do.

“Very well put, Miss Buxton. I think you’ll do just fine. Can you be ready to leave for France within a week or so?”

Victoria felt a surge of triumph as well as a wash of nerves.
I am going to nurse in France!
“Of course.”

Dame Furse took a packet of papers from a small leather valise. “Here is the paperwork, Miss Buxton. Please talk it over with your family and drop them off at the VAD headquarters by the end of the week. We need to get you processed as quickly as possible.” She handed the papers to Victoria and held out her hand. “Welcome aboard, Miss Buxton.”

Elated, Victoria shook her hand, then hurried up the stairs to the library to finish out her day. If only she could tell her father! He would be so proud of her.
Wait until I tell Kit. . . .
But then
a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Kit. She shoved him out of her mind. It had been a week since she had sent him a letter, apologizing profusely and confessing her love for him for the first time. It seemed fitting to do it in writing, though she knew she was a coward for her inability to say it in person. She had yet to receive a response. He may not have gotten it yet. She clung to that hope, for there was nothing more she could do. Now she simply needed to focus on being the best aide she could possibly be. She had been given a way to make a real difference, and she couldn’t squander it now, no matter how much her heart ached.

Dear Prudence,

I have decided the worst thing about the war is the absolute tedium of my daily routine. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy working with the horses (though I’ve decided that mules are just about worthless), but my routine is the same day in and day out. In reality, I am little more than a glorified stableboy in a uniform. I shouldn’t complain, but it’s a little hard to think that my former unit is out doing something while I do nothing.

Prudence bit her lip at the implied criticism. Andrew hadn’t mentioned her actions since he’d left, and he’d dutifully written to her once a week to let her know he was safe, but he did include little jabs such as this one to let her know he had yet to fully forgive her. It always hurt, but she would take the pain as long as he was safe. His anger was bearable as long as he was alive.

She blinked back the tears once more at the way they’d left things between them and continued reading.

I enjoy the camaraderie of the other men and sometimes we play cards into the night. It’s better than trying to go to
sleep listening to the distant artillery and mortars at the front. If you didn’t know better, you would think it was thunder, except for the sure knowledge that legions of men on both sides are being blown to bits.

I am sorry, my dear, I shouldn’t share this with you in your condition. I pray you are healthy and well. Take care of yourself and baby Horace.

Love,

Andrew

Disappointment flooded through her at the matter-of-fact tone of his note. Absent were the words of love that had filled the letters he’d sent to her from training, an era that now felt so long ago. Now he told her of his trouble with the horses and his boredom. Occasionally a personal thought on the horrors of war would come through, but other than for his admonishment to take care of her heath, he might have been writing to his mother.

She was alone and with child and she needed his love to sustain her now more than ever. She laid her cheek against the paper and tears came to her eyes. She missed him so. She just wanted things to go back to the way they were before.

Inside her the baby turned and a bittersweet happiness rose up. She had done what she could to make sure their child would be raised with both parents. She placed her palms against her stomach in wonderment. This child would be loved.

Bringing out her stationery box, she sat back down at the table and chewed on her lip. Thus far, her notes had been conciliatory, but not overly so. Maybe she needed to be clearer. Maybe her subtlety was lost on him.

My darling Andrew,

Thank you for your notes. I look forward to your weekly letters more than anything and I am often overwhelmed with joy when one comes in the post.

You would laugh at how plump I am getting. I think your baby wants to come from my belly fully grown or at the very least ready for nursery school. At this rate, I will be as large as a house by the time he is born. But I have seen a nurse and she has proclaimed me as healthy as the horses you care for, so please don’t worry yourself on that score.

But now I must bring up something unpleasant. I have avoided it thus far because I felt I should only give you words of encouragement while you are away, but I find I cannot avoid it any longer.

I know what I did, and by that I mean, asking for someone to intervene on your behalf, seems as if it were under-handed and sneaky, but trust me, my darling, it was done out of love. What would happen to me or your child should something happen to you? Can you imagine little Horace never knowing his father? I don’t say this to tug on your heartstrings, but to let you know my motivations, because such a thought almost broke my heart and I knew I must do whatever I could possibly do to prevent it.

I know and understand your assertion that other women are losing their husbands and other children are losing their fathers because they don’t have contacts to pull strings to keep them a little safer. I understand your feelings that this is not fair, but my love, I don’t care. Maybe that is unpatriotic of me, but though I feel sorry for those women and children, their children are not Horace, and I could not bear it if our
son did not know the warmth of his father’s love. How could you expect me not to fight for our child and our future children as you wanted to fight for all of England’s children?

And how can you hold such feelings against me?

Please, my darling, cease your coldness against me and offer me forgiveness and words of love. If not forgiveness, please tell me you understand why I did what I did. It would mean so very much to me to know that your love for me has not been lessened, even if your trust in me has.