With This Ring (5 page)

“
Are you late to an engagement?” the
major asked.

Startled, she looked down at him. “I
thought you were sleeping.”

“
With the fragrance of ‘good milled
soap’ so close?” he teased as he gritted his teeth against the
pain. The moment passed, and he stirred on his side so he could see
her better. “Miss Perkins, you had better let Corporal Davies
escort you home.”

“
I think … at least I
hope … my coachman is outside.”

“
If he is not, Corporal Davies will
see you home.” He turned his head toward the small table next to
the cot. “Find some coins there for a hackney.”

“
I couldn’t.”

“
Do it.”

As she scooped up a few coins, Lydia
decided that Major Reed was not someone to argue with. I suppose it
comes with command, she thought. “I will pay you back, sir,” she
said.

“
Don’t talk twaddle. You have
already given me—my battery—more than we can ever
repay.”

She did not argue with him,
especially after he closed his eyes and the sweat sprang to his
forehead again. She knelt by him this time and dabbed at his face.
“I wish you would not talk, and for the Lord’s sake, do stay in
your bed tomorrow, and leave the Horse Guards alone, no matter how
stupid they are,” she murmured. “You are a serious trial, Major
Reed.”

He nodded, but he did not open his
eyes. Now you have worn yourself down to the nub, she thought, as
she sat by him again on the cot. Oh, where did the myth start that
officers are lazy and concerned with no one’s comfort but their
own? She fingered his hair, which was far too long. If I returned,
I could cut this quite nicely, she thought. Mama will never allow
my return, however.

She was sitting there, chin on hand,
staring at the marble slab that used to be the altar, when the
corporal returned with the surgeon. Quietly, she got up and turned
to go, but the major grabbed her skirt, holding her
there.

“
Sir!” she protested.

“
Come back tomorrow,” he said, and
it was a command. “Corporal Davies, either see her to her carriage
or see her home.”

“
Aye, sir,” the corporal
said.

The major released her and without
looking back, she left him to the care of the surgeon. “Is he
always so … so peremptory?” she asked when they were out of
hearing.

The corporal shrugged, as if puzzled
by her question. “Miss Perkins, he is an officer. I believe they
are supposed to be that way.”

“
With
everyone
?”

He grinned at her. “We’ve all been a
long time away, begging your pardon, mum.”

A long time away, she thought as she
looked around the chapel one more time. A pity more surgeons and
more comfortable quarters could not be found for the men who gave
so much.

There was no carriage waiting for
her outside, but she had not expected it. Her mother would likely
be in rare bad humor, and she would have no allies. Unconsciously
she stepped closer to the corporal.

“
Happen there was another need for
your conveyance,” the corporal suggested.

“
I’m certain that is right,” she
said, continuing the fiction.

The corporal hailed a hackney and
helped her in, climbing in after her. “Oh, I cannot take you from
the hospital!” she protested. “What will the major
think!”

He shook his head emphatically, then
pressed his hand to his bandaged face. “No, mum, the question is,
what would he think if I let you go home all by yourself? He’d have
my stripes, and I don’t plan to lose them again.”

“
Very well. It seems that I cannot
argue with any effectiveness against the army,” she
said.

“
No, ma’am,” he agreed. “Good of you
to realize that.”

Lydia smiled in the dark. There is
no question that I am in the capable hands of master manipulators,
she thought. So this is the army? She cleared her throat. It was a
longish drive to Holly Street and conversation was in order, even
if Mama would be shocked into catatonia to know she was speaking
with someone of the lowest order. She glanced at Corporal Davies,
who was leaning against the window and pressing his hand to the
bandage. Now, would he rather talk about himself, his commander, or
his guns? She decided on guns.

“
Corporal, I believe your major said
you were ‘Picton’s Own Battery’?” she ventured. “I do not
understand.”

The corporal turned to look at her.
“You haven’t heard of Picton’s Own?” he asked in
amazement.

She shook her head, feeling silly.
“I don’t even know what kind of guns you shoot.”

“
Serve,” he corrected. “Big’uns,
Miss Perkins. Lovely ladies. Battery B, Third Division, but no one
calls us that. I thinks that t’major could land a shell on the back
of a Frog in a bordello, and not hurt the
puta
underneath.”
He chuckled. “He probably has, think on!”

“
So you are valuable to General
Picton,” she continued, grateful that he could not see her red
face.

He nodded. “After Talavera, when we
saved his liver and lights, he’s quick to let Major Reed play the
game ‘is own way.” He took his hand from his face, as though the
memory of victory was as good as opium. “Timing, Miss Perkins. Know
your terrain, stand your ground, and hold your fire until you want
to void because you’re so scared. Beg pardon, mum, but that’s the
simple truth.”

“
I don’t doubt you,” she murmured.
“I cannot imagine doing such a thing.” She smiled. “It seems that I
said something about running away, didn’t I?”

The corporal was prepared to be
generous. “We’ve all wanted to, one time or t’other.” He leaned
back, trying to find a comfortable spot in the hackney as it bumped
over cobblestones. “ ’Cepting the major. I don’t think he is
ever afraid. Northumberlanders, miss. A wild mob are those pikers
beyond Hadrian’s Wall.”

“
And yet, some call it home, I am
certain,” she said. “I imagine the major is eager to return to his
wife and children there?”

“
If he had any, he would,” the
corporal agreed, then laughed softly, almost to himself. “Or maybe
he does.”

“
He’s not sure?” she asked, puzzled.
“That’s irregular.”

“
Lord, Miss Perkins, it’s a very
long story. And he might not want me telling it,” he said, putting
his hand to his eye again. “I’m not sure I could do it justice,
anyway.” He looked out the window as the hackney slowed and then
stopped. “Gor, miss, is
this
your bivouac?”

She looked out the window, too,
trying to see it as the corporal was seeing it. All I see is a
rented house on a street just slightly beyond the edge of
gentility. A home for mushrooms, she told herself. “Yes, I am
living here for the Season. Ordinarily I live in Devon.”

“
Came to see the sights, did yer da
and mum?”

“
No, not really. My parents do not
take much interest in their surroundings,” she said. If you can be
so honest, I can at least return the favor. “I have a beautiful
sister, who is attempting to find a suitable alliance.”

“
With one of them earls or
viscounts?”

“
Oh, at least,” she said. When the
cabdriver opened the door, she held out her hand to the corporal.
“Thank you for your escort. Do take care of yourself, and try to
get Major Reed to stay in his bed tomorrow.”

“
I thought he told you to come
back,” he reminded her.

“
Well, yes, but ….”

“
Then, he’ll expect you there, Miss
Perkins,” Davies concluded, following her out of the hackney. “And
he’ll be distressed if I do not walk you to your door.” He paused a
moment, his face going remarkably red under the street lamp, as he
extended his arm to her. With a smile, she took it.

The door opened before he could
knock, and there was Mama, white-faced and with a tic in her eye.
Before Lydia could say anything, Mama grabbed her arm and pulled
her inside. “Mama, please don’t!” she began, mortified that the
corporal was witnessing this. There was no chance to explain,
because here was Kitty now, in tears, holding out her hairbrush and
a ribbon.

“
Lydia, this is the worst thing! You
know I depend on you to fix my hair just so. How could you stay in
that dreadful place so long, and with those uncouth people?” Kitty
noticed the corporal then, shrieked, and leaped back. “One of them
followed you home!”

“
I am ‘er escort,” Corporal Davies
said, his voice stubborn as he edged his way into the entrance
hallway. “I had orders to get her home, since none of you thought
to retrieve her.”

“
Insolence! What you probably have
is a mind to look over our house, steal our silver, and murder us
in our beds!” Mama exclaimed. “Leave immediately, or I will summon
the Watch!”

“
Mama!” Lydia pleaded, tugging on
her arm as she started for the corporal. “He brought me home. That
is all!”

“
Then, he can leave immediately,”
Mama said. “Daughter, he stinks!”

Lydia broke free of her grasp and
hurried to the corporal, who was staring at the scene before him,
his hand to his eye again. “Please forgive them,” she whispered as
she took his arm and led him to the door again. “If it is any
consolation, I am truly mortified, Corporal Davies.”

The corporal nodded to her and took
a wide step around the butler, who held the door open. He turned to
look at Lady Luisa. “Better it ‘twas me brought Miss Perkins home
than t’ major,” he told her in a loud voice. “He’d of yanked her
right out again, and probably wonder why on God’s earth we fought
so hard for t’ likes of you.” He backed down the steps and smiled
at Lydia. “See you tomorrow, Miss Perkins. Mind that you be
there.”

“
But I ….”

“
Ta now.”

The butler closed the door before
Mama grabbed her again, shaking her so hard that the pins fell from
her hair, all the while demanding to know what she had been doing,
and reminding her in a voice loud enough to summon Papa from his
library (to which he then promptly retreated), that she was a
careless, thoughtless daughter who should have been left behind in
Devon. Lydia knew better than to offer an explanation until Mama
was through, breathing heavily and dabbing at her forehead and
bosom, as though she had run a great footrace. Lydia stood,
white-faced and trembling, her hands held tight together, suffering
deep in her heart not so much from her treatment, but from the
humiliation that someone else had witnessed it.

“
They needed me, Mama,” she said
finally. “Didn’t you send us there to be of use?”

It was the wrong approach. Mama
leaped to her feet again and slapped her. “You slow wit, I sent you
there for Kitty to see and be seen!” she shouted. “Dearest Kitty
succeeded, but look at you! Your dress is dirty … my God, are
those
bloodstains
? Don’t you even care what bloodstains do
to fabric? I trust you do not think for one moment I will replace
that dress!” She threw herself into a chair again. “But, then, you
never think, do you, Lydia?”

She patted her heart, and Lydia
sighed, dreading the inevitable conclusion of Mama’s fury. “And now
my heart is leaping about in my chest. You will bring me to an
early grave, Lydia, and I leave it to a heavenly tribunal to sort
out your punishment in the world to come.”

My hands will be clean,
indeed
, Lydia thought with sudden bitterness that threatened to
make her cry. Finish it, Mama. Humiliate me some more and threaten
me with God.

“
My hands will be clean, indeed,”
Mama finished with her usual flourish.

It was over, but Lydia knew better
than to give any indication of her own relief. She stood there,
head bowed, hands still tight together, until Kitty held out the
brush and hair ribbon, her lower lip trembling as though she had
just received the verbal beating. “Sister, you know I need you to
fix my hair! Why else were you brought along?”

Lydia looked at her, and then at her
mother. “I did wonder why,” she said. “Did either of you ever give
a thought that
I
might make an eligible alliance in
London?”

Mama gasped, and then began to
laugh, which was worse to Lydia’s ears than all the shouts and
tumult. She laughed until she had to grasp her sides to remain
upright in her chair. She tried to speak, then started to laugh
again.

Lydia watched her. Beat me, Mama,
she thought as she winked back tears. It would hurt less. She
looked at her sister. “Come, Kitty, let me fix your hair,” she said
calmly. “I did not know you were going somewhere
tonight.”

They climbed the stairs together,
Kitty’s lovely face alive with animation now. “Lyddy, those two
gentlemen who brought me home and their sisters have invited
me … me! … to accompany them to Drury Lane tonight!” She
touched Lydia’s hand. “I do not know when I have used a faint to
better purpose! It was graceful, too, wasn’t it? Did you
see?”

“
Yes, Kitty, it was graceful,” Lydia
said. “Thank goodness something profitable came of your visit of
charity to those stinking, wicked men.”