With This Ring (23 page)

He nodded, took her arm, and sat
with her on a bench by the road. “We did yesterday, too, Lydia.
I … I think I am done with big things for a while.” He smiled.
“I suppose we should be grateful that the war was not longer, or
Percy would have given us more children.”

She didn’t say anything, but they
sat close together on the bench, Maria cuddled to her. I do not
think I have ever felt so frightened in my whole life, she thought.
She shivered. “Do you know, Sam,” she said finally, trying to
choose her words, but finding none. “Oh, I don’t even know what I
am trying to say.”

“
It will keep, Lydia. It will
keep.”

They sat together in silence until
the major stirred finally and looked at his watch. “We could catch
the mail coach and get into Warwich. I am thinking, Lydia, after we
find some food.”

She nodded, and held Maria away from
her. “Are you hungry, my dear?” she asked. “Oh, heavens! I don’t
even know what you eat.”

He tickled Maria and took a close
look when she smiled. “My dear, imagine yourself dining with
seven … almost eight teeth, and plan accordingly.”

Sam was right, of course; she
shouldn’t have doubted it. Maria ate mashed potatoes with cream and
a little applesauce, followed by milk with oil of peppermint
stirred into it, “To keep her sound,” the serving woman assured
them. “All eight o’ mine had a wee dram every day, and aren’t they
all healthy now?”

“
We shall enter that in our catalog
of skills for new parents, Lydia,” the major said as they settled
themselves on the mail coach. “When in doubt, take the advice of
women with the most living children.”

“
Especially when they are emphatic,”
she added.

Wonder of wonders, the coach was not
crowded, so they were able to put Maria between them. Covered with
Lydia’s shawl, and holding her towel doll, Maria went to sleep.
“The sleep of the innocent,” Sam murmured as he touched
her.

“
You’re destined never to know what
that is,” Lydia said.

Sam grinned at her and closed his
eyes, too. She watched them both, her hand on Maria to keep her
from rolling off, but her eyes on her husband. I wonder, Sam, are
you not aware how
bound
I am to you now by the addition of
Maria, or are you so supremely self-confident that it would never
occur to you? For no reason discernible to her, tears winked behind
her eyelids. Yesterday, I think I entered into this marriage with
the idea somewhere that I could wriggle out of it quite easily,
even between here and Northumberland, she reasoned with herself.
With Maria, I know I cannot, no matter what happens. She stared at
the child in frank amazement. I cannot believe how rapidly she has
become mine. One look at her, and I was gone. She gazed at Sam
then. I wonder, sir, will you become mine, or am I the means to an
end?

They stopped that night in a small
inn outside of Coventry, to her relief. Maria was behaving well
enough. Indeed, she had found her way onto several laps, and had
earned a wooden horse intended for someone else’s granddaughter,
and a peppermint lozenge from travelers easily charmed by her sunny
good humor. It was the major who worried her again. He became
quieter and quieter through the long summer evening, doing his best
to continue conversations with others in the coach, but unable to
keep his attention fixed for long. He is in pain again, she
thought. Surely he cannot make it all the way to Northumberland. We
have only traveled a half day on the coach this time. How long will
he last tomorrow?

They stopped briefly at a small
village whose name she could not recall even a minute after it was
announced. “Horse threw a shoe,” the coachman announced. “We’ll be
fifteen minutes.”

“
We’re stopping here tonight,” she
announced as she retrieved Maria from a vicar who had been
entertaining her with a puppet glove.

“
It’s not a regular stop, Lydia.
We’ll have a hard time finding conveyance in the morning,” the
major said. His voice sounded almost normal to her ears, but she
knew he had been gritting his teeth for the last ten miles at
least.

“
Here, Sam,” she said quietly.
“Don’t argue with me, or try to tell me you do not hurt. I refuse
to go another mile with you in pain.”

He did not argue, but got down
slowly from the coach. She followed with Maria and her cloth bag,
and saw to it that the major’s trunk and her bandbox were removed,
too. “I know what I am doing,” she told the coachman, who towered
over her, and who would have frightened her to death, only two days
ago. “My husband needs to lie down.”

“
Verra well, ma’am,” the coachman
said. “You’ll forfeit the rest of that fare. It’s only another
twenty miles to Coventry.”

“
Then, I will take the loss,” she
said. “I am adamant.”

Finding a room was simple, since the
inn was not frequented by the mail coach route. After a quick
dinner, she asked the innkeeper to help the major upstairs. “Does
he need a surgeon?” the innkeeper asked her in a
whisper.

“
No, he does not!” Sam declared. “I
am not deaf, you two! I just need to lie down, my good man. Thank
you for your trouble.”

Without a word, she set Maria on the
floor with her doll and helped him from his clothes again, almost
dreading the sight of his shoulder, swollen and hot to bursting
again. “Let the innkeeper go for a doctor,” she urged.

“
No,” he said sharply. “I just want
to get home.”

It will take forever if we can only
travel half a day at a time, she thought as she unbuttoned his
trousers and pulled them off. Oh, Sam! I wish you were not so
stubborn. “Very well, sir,” she said, “but I am going downstairs to
get a poultice for your shoulder, and if you argue I will … I
will ….”

“
Will what?” he asked, his eyes
teary with pain.

“
Nothing,” she said simply. “There
is not a thing I can do, if you choose to be stubborn. But if you
do not allow this little thing, I will sit on your back and make
you keep it on.”

He stared at her. “I believe you
would, Mrs. Reed,” he said finally. He lay quiet on his stomach
while she went downstairs, carrying Maria with her.

The innkeeper’s wife knew just what
to do. “Now you go upstairs and put that little sweet one to bed,
and I will have a poultice for your husband.”

Almost weak with relief, Lydia went
back upstairs. Sam appeared to be asleep, so she did not say
anything to him. Silently she washed Maria as best she could, tied
her into another nappie, and found a nightgown of sacking that was
almost butter-soft with washing. She sat on the bed and held Maria
close to her. “My dear, you have been well tended,” she whispered.
I hope I can do half so well as the Sisters of Charity, she
thought. She looked at Sam, and then back at Maria. How odd, she
thought. I who was useful to no one have suddenly become quite a
necessity. I refuse to be frightened by all this responsibility.
People depend upon me now.

After a couple of deep breaths, she
put the drowsy baby down next to the major. “Sam, I am going
downstairs for that poultice,” she whispered into his ear. “Maria
is here with you.” He nodded, and she covered them both with the
bedclothes.

It was a mash poultice, hot and
steaming. The innkeeper’s wife helped her wrap it in a towel. “Just
put it on his back for about ten minutes, taking care you do not
burn him,” she instructed Lydia. “Then take it off for ten more
minutes, and then put it back on. It should be cool enough to stay
on all night then.” The woman smiled at her. “Do not look so glum!
He looks like a healthy man otherwise. Soon he’ll be up and about
and bothering you again, miss, and won’t you wish him
elsewhere!”

She blushed, thanked the woman, and
hurried upstairs. In another moment she had placed the poultice on
the major’s shoulder, careful to keep it covered with the towel. He
flinched, then sighed as the heat went deep into the wound. She sat
on the pillow close to his head, her hand on his hair, smoothing it
back, and then just pressing firmly. He returned to sleep. By the
time she had applied the poultice for the final time, he was
snoring softly, Maria curled in his arms.

One more thing managed, Lydia
thought as she took off her dress and petticoat, peeled down her
chemise and washed herself. I think I would almost kill for a bath,
she thought as she soaped herself. I would have hot water up to my
neck and shampoo, and I would sit there until I was wrinkled. She
dried off quickly and found drawers and a fresh chemise in her
bandbox. There was a light breeze coming from the open window, so
she closed it and looked down at the cot that the landlord had
thoughtfully provided for Maria. It’s a good thing I am short, she
thought as she pulled back the blanket.

“
Good night, Lydia.”

She froze. Good Lord, was he awake
and watching me the whole time I was standing there? she thought.
She shook her head. I do not want to know.

“
Good night, Sam.”

He was better in the morning, and
she could only marvel at his resilience. The swelling was greatly
reduced, but even to her inexpert eye, there was more redness. Oh,
I do not like this, she thought as she touched the wound. “Sam, can
we not ….”

“
No,” he said firmly. “Two more days
entire will see me home.”

“
You are unbelievably stubborn,” she
told him in a whisper. Maria still slept beside him, her arms and
legs thrown wide with that casual abandon of the
comfortable.

“
I do not bend with every wind,
Lydia, unlike ….” He stopped, and sat up.

“
Unlike me,” she finished. “I know I
am no bargain, Sam. It was what my mother said all
along.”

“
Lydia, I didn’t mean ….” He
looked at her. “I was rude. Forgive me.”

No, you are in pain, she thought,
and this is making you short-tempered. “Forgiven,” she said simply.
She took his hands. “Sam, please.”

“
No,” he repeated. “I can make it
home. Ho, there, Maria. You’re a slugabed. I wonder that the
Sisters of Charity tolerated you.” He smiled at the little girl,
who was looking up at him. She stretched in that stiff-legged way
of the compact, and Lydia sat on the bed to watch her. “You’re
changing the subject, Mr. Reed,” she said, even as she smiled at
the baby.

“
Oh, now I am Mr. Reed?” he asked.
“Hand me my pants, Lydia.”

“
I should hide them like General
Picton does,” she said.

“
Then, you would certainly be
embarrassed to sit with me on the mail coach, Mrs.
Reed!”

Getting out of the village proved to
be as aggravating as the major had predicted the day before. To his
everlasting credit in Lydia’s heart, he did not say, “Didn’t I tell
you?”, but continued patiently to pursue all avenues, while Lydia
and Maria sat in the kitchen with the landlord’s wife. Luckily the
woman liked to talk; with only a few judicious questions, Lydia was
able to glean all manner of information about taking care of small
children.

Her mind was also on Sam; she could
not help herself. I think men are even more difficult than
children, she thought, for all that they profess to know so much.
She fell silent, thinking about the major, unable to get the sight
of his poor back out of her mind.

“
But you are worried about your
husband, aren’t you?” the innkeeper’s wife asked, interrupting her
own flow of conversation.

“
Oh, I am,” Lydia said. “He just
refuses to consider any more tinkering with his wound until he is
home.” She fingered Maria’s curls, and kissed the top of the baby’s
head. “I, for one, cannot blame him, but I wish I could convince
him to let a doctor look at his shoulder.”

The women looked at each other.
“Lord, they are stubborn,” the woman said. She found a tablet and
stub of a pencil and wrote out the recipe for mash poultice, then
gave it to Lydia. “At least get someone to mix this for you
tonight.”

It is such a feeble remedy, Lydia
thought as she pocketed the recipe. She looked up then to see the
major standing in the doorway.

“
Good luck to us,” he said. “I have
arranged for a gig to take us to the next
village ….”

“
Marbury Down,” said the landlord’s
wife.

“
Yes, that is it. There we will
catch a smaller conveyance that will take us to Leicester, where
the mail coach stops,” he said. “Are you ready, my
dear?”

She nodded. “At least I am not still
Mrs. Reed,” she whispered to the woman as she put Maria on her hip.
“He does not like to discuss his ailments!”

An hour’s travel in the gig—which
Maria enjoyed enormously, but the major did not—they arrived at
Marbury Down in time to catch the local conveyance to Leicester.
Lydia eyed it dubiously. The vehicle may have been a mail coach in
an earlier working life, but there was little to recommend it now,
beyond wheels that turned, and horses approaching the
geriatric.

The major startled her by putting
his arm around her waist. “My dear Lydia, if the wheels fall off,
we can always eat the horses.”