With This Ring Part 2

"I have none, sir," the major snapped, opening his eyes and fixing the surgeon with a level stare. "I want my men who are here in hospital taken care of to my satisfaction, and then I will consent to leave. There are no other conditions."

The surgeon tried again. "Sir, other officers ha-"

"I am not other officers, and this is no ordinary battery," said the major, biting off each word as though he intended to chew it. "When my men are taken care of, I will leave. Picton's Own Battery deserves nothing less."

"You are difficult, my lord," said the surgeon.

"I am. Now, sir, if you will look at this charming lady, I believe she has something to ask you. Am I right, Miss Perkins?"

You must have eyes in the back of your head, she thought. She glanced at the soldiers around her. No wonder they trust you. "Yes, actually," she said. "This poor man deserves to be clean before he dies. Can you at least change his bandage and bring me some water and a towel?"

The surgeon opened his mouth, looked at the major, and closed it. "Very well. Orderly!"

The gunnery sergeant died two hours later, during which time he called her his mother, and Grandmama, and then Teresa, who was, one of the men a.s.sured her, a good girl who followed the army. I am not that naive, she thought, but she made no comment. She wiped his face, glad that he was clean to her satisfaction. Changing the bandage had been a trial, but she clung to his hand throughout the whole ordeal, and when it was over, vomited with what she hoped was ladylike demeanor into a bucket that the major thoughtfully pushed her way.

To her relief, the gunnery sergeant was deep in another world during the last hour of his life. It remained to her to wipe his face, and then when he died, to be amazingly touched as his hand had gripped hers, and then relaxed completely in the peace that death brings. She held it another moment, marveling at the mystery before her, even as she cried for a soldier she did not know.

The men were silent, some looking away. She dried her eyes on a handkerchief that someone gave her-probably the major-blew her nose, and looked around her. "I'm sorry to have distressed you with my tears," she said as she stood up, feeling far older than her twenty-two years.

"Ah, no, miss," said the one-eyed man, who seemed to have appointed himself the spokesman. "I thinks I speaks for all when I say that gunner there would have been flattered to have a pretty mort cry all over him." He looked around at the others, and they nodded in agreement, with a certain shyness that touched her almost as much as the dead man.

So I am a pretty lady? she asked herself. Either the light is more dim than I thought, or you have not seen Englishwomen in years and years. "I could cry more," she said simply. It sounded stupid to her ears, but again the men nodded.

The major had said nothing, and she had a.s.sumed he still slept. She looked at him, and his eyes were open, regarding her with a curious expression of relief. It surprised her at first, wondering what she could have done to occasion such an emotion. She gazed back at him with a question in her eyes, and then it dawned on her that what she had done through this interminable afternoon had lifted some of the burden from his own painful shoulders.

She surprised herself further by resting her hand on his arm as he lay there, leaning close so no one else could hear, and whispering in his ear. "Major Reed, I truly think this is too much for you right now."

He nodded, and she was chagrined to see tears in his eyes, too. "I also think the men would feel better if you returned to your own cot so you could rest."

His reply was a long time coming, and she feared she had overstepped her bounds with him. "You're right," he said finally. His voice was so soft, she was compelled to lean closer. "Miss Perkins, have you any idea how wonderful you smell?"

Sir, you are a rascal, she thought, amused that he would keep her so close just to breathe her fragrance. "It is merely good milled soap, sir."

"It is far more."

He closed his eyes, and she straightened up. She spoke to the one-eyed man, "Sir ...."

"Corporal Davies, mum, not sir," he replied in a hurry, his cheeks flushed at her social gaffe.

"Corporal, could you help me take the major back to his own bed?"

"I am far away from my own bed," he commented a trifle breathlessly as the corporal and a private helped him to sit up.

"Nonsense. You said you were quartered in the lady chapel. I can see it from here," Lydia replied. The private paled under the major's weight, and Lydia took a good look at him. "Private, why did you not mention your own wound? Do sit down." She replaced the private's shoulder with her own, lifting up the major and draping his arm around her. Corporal Davies took a firm grip on the other side, and they walked him slowly down the aisle of silent men.

"I mean Northumberland, where I live," he managed to say as they walked him along. "Just beyond Hadrian's Wall." He stopped, and they stopped. "Miss Perkins, perhaps you would like it there."

She laughed. "I doubt it! A place where the sun never s.h.i.+nes, sheets and blankets are always damp, and where people eat oatmeal three times a day?"

He smiled at her as they started in motion again. "I have a very good cook, and we only have oatmeal twice a day! Corporal, what are you grinning at?"

"You, sir," the man replied.

"Insubordination," Reed muttered, and then said nothing more. The perspiration stood out on his forehead, and Lydia knew how much this effort at nonchalance was costing him.

They laid him down on his own bed, and Corporal Davies went for the surgeon again, over his protests. "I just need to sleep," he insisted as she wiped his face.

"And perhaps a small serving of laudanum," she added, pulling his blankets up to his shoulder. "To go with your oatmeal."

She sat beside him to await the surgeon, noting how at some point during the afternoon, the sun had gone down. How long have I been here? she thought in alarm. Surely the coachman would have come in for me. She sighed. If Mama has allowed him to return. Perhaps I am to be punished for not accompanying Kitty home. She frowned, wondering how far she would have to walk.

"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 pa.s.sed, 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 sh.e.l.l 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 b.u.mped 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 G.o.d'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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d.

"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?"