Carla Kelly Read online

  She knew herself well enough to also admit that she was a practical woman. I am married to a good man who felt sorry for me, she reminded herself. It could be that he does blame me for what happened to the alcalde and his daughter. If I am to find out—and somehow my standing in his eyes matters to me—I must ask him. She leaned her head against the sill and thought of all the times her mother complained to her about her father, but, to her knowledge, never confronted him about his many disservices and marital misdemeanors. Sitting in the windowsill, and looking out on the beautiful morning, Elinore wondered if things between them would have been different had Audrey Mason ever spoken up.

  “Surely I can do this,” she said out loud as she went to the door and pulled on her shoes. The reality is that I am married to this man who has at least promised me his protection to the Portuguese border, she reasoned with herself. We will probably part company there, because surely he knows already what a sad bargain I am. Even so, there is no need for him to think ill of me. I must ask him how he feels, even if I’m not precisely certain how to go about it.

  She opened the door, but stood still, unwilling to move. She knew it was going to be another trying day, and she knew in her heart she had suffered a lifetime of trying days and wanted no more. She squared her shoulders, smoothed down her apron, and closed the door quietly behind her.

  Sonia Ramos was sitting up in her bed and taking a definite interest in her daughter, who was being washed by her grandmama in a copper basin pulled close to the warmth of the brazier. Elinore smiled at the baby’s noisy protests and the vigorous way she pumped her legs and waved her arms about. If the captain were less of a surgeon, neither of you would be here this morning, she thought, and looked at Sonia, her heart full of wonder at his skill. Off and on since she was a young girl, she had seen him quietly at work in the marching hospital, never calling attention to himself, seldom talking to her. She knew the other officers teased him about his shyness. Captain, I don’t suppose you cut a great figure on the dance floor or astound the ladies with your repartee, she thought, but you astound where it matters, don’t you?

  She stood by the squalling baby as Sonia’s mother took her from the bath and set her on a towel on the bed, enjoying the moment, at once so ordinary and yet miraculous. I will have to ask you, Captain, if you ever get tired of seeing this miracle. I don’t think I could.

  “Do you have any children, senora?”

  She looked around in surprise. “Me?” she asked in Spanish. “Oh, I have been married but two days.” For no discernible reason, her face felt hot. She bent over the infant, lying on Sonia’s bed now, and wrapped the towel more tightly around her.

  The other women in the room—it seemed like hundreds, rather than just a maid or two—put their hands to their mouths in that polite Spanish way and laughed behind them. Elinore put her hands to her face in unconscious imitation and smiled back at them in an agony of embarrassment that made her realize quite forcefully that Jesse Randall was not the only shy one.

  She busied herself drying the baby’s hair, and then moved her closer to Sonia, who held out a diaper. When the baby was dressed, and nuzzling at her mama’s breast, Elinore watched them for a moment, her heart full. “I have to leave now,” she said finally.

  Sonia raised up, which caused the little one to flail her arms and root around. “We are forever in your husband’s debt,” she said, reaching for Elinore’s hand.

  Then whisk us safely to the Portuguese border, Elinore thought as she leaned into Sonia’s embrace. Teach me how to talk to that husband, who must be regretting my acquisition on such short notice. “He was glad to help,” she murmured.

  “We will not forget,” Sonia replied firmly. “How could we?”

  She found her cloak—someone had brushed it cleaner—retrieved her medicine satchel, accepted the hunk of bread and cheese that the maid handed her, and left the Ramos home. The people of Santos were going about their business in streets that no longer looked sinister, now that morning had come. Some nodded and smiled to her, and she realized that news probably traveled as quickly in a village as in a typical regiment. I am such a simpleton, she thought. Give me a sunny day, and I feel I can conquer nations.

  The feeling lasted as far as the church, which looked even smaller in the morning light. She saw two men digging graves at the edge of the cemetery behind the church, then stood where she was and watched as Harper and Wilkie carried out a body wrapped only in a blanket. “Oh, Major Sheffield, why did it have to end this way? Why couldn’t you be exempt from war?” she asked out loud. She came closer, noticing that Sheffield was barefoot now, even his socks gone. With a question in her eyes, she looked at Jesse, who had followed the body outdoors.

  He came to stand beside her. “It’s one hundred and fifty miles to the Portuguese border,” he reminded her. “We may need his boots more than he will.” He took her arm, and moved away from the others. “After they are buried, I have something to show you. It’s something I learned last night from Sonia’s husband.”

  She nodded, then hoped for one irrational moment that he would keep his arm on her hand. To her delight, he moved it up to her shoulder, and pulled her in close to him when the soldiers put Sheffield into the grave. “They’ve already buried Jenks,” he whispered in her ear. “Oh, Elinore, this is harder than anything that happened last night.”

  Maybe you need comfort, too, she thought, and slipped her arm around his waist. “He told me once that he thought you would do…as a surgeon,” she whispered back, gratified when he stooped a little to hear her.

  “High praise from the crusty old boy,” he replied, and she could tell he was pleased, even as he struggled to maintain his composure.

  She knew she could not look at the grave, not with Father Esteban praying, and Wilkie and Harper, so serious, poised there with shovels. She looked at Jesse instead, relieved to see that the swelling had greatly diminished on his temple. Dan O’Leary must have applied the plaster, which pulled the laceration together. His eye was black, to be sure, but it was partly open now. She was glad he was not a great deal taller than she was, because it was nice to stay there with her head inside the reach of his arm, pulled close to his chest. She closed her eyes and listened to his heart, and cried for Major Sheffield, best of men. She felt Jesse’s lips on her hair, and then he turned his face down against hers, because he obviously did not wish to look at the sight before him, either.

  He released his hold on her when the grave was filled in and stepped forward to speak to the soldiers. “Private Wilkie, find a string and run it through Major Sheffield’s boots. They’ll probably fit you, and you can carry them. Corporal Harper, tell Daniel I want to talk to him.” He touched Elinore’s back. “Come inside with me.”

  He sat her down at a table in a cold room off the chapel and spread out a piece of paper before her. “Last night, Sonia’s husband told me that out of all the horses in Marmont’s division, Harper managed to steal the horse of General Souham himself.”

  She stared back, her eyes wide. “He certainly has a knack for trouble.”

  “No doubt.” Jesse sat beside her on the narrow bench. “Father Esteban can read French. What we have here is a list of all the French army in Spain. I doubt it is something of any earthshaking importance to Sir Arthur, because I think Wellington must already have this information. But look at this.” He pointed to another page, closely written. “Father tells me this little page describes their proposed winter campaign.”

  “We should take this with us, and hurry to the border,” she said.

  “Well, yes and no,” Jesse replied. “Since I command such a large army of my own here, I propose this instead, my dear. While Dan and I conduct a little clinic this morning in the village, will you copy these two pages? I want to put the originals back in Souham’s saddlebags, then turn his horse loose. Let’s allow the general to find his horse again, and not suspect that anyone has the information in the saddlebags, eh?”

  She nodded. �
�We’ll be on foot to the border?”

  “Alas, yes. That other horse is so old that it probably pulled a plow for Methuselah, and the wagon is too heavy. Father Esteban thinks that farmers will give us rides along the way, and I can pay our way by holding sick call in the villages.”

  She nodded again. “I’ve never minded walking.”

  He hesitated, and she felt her doubts returning. “That’s another matter I want to discuss with you and Daniel. And here he is. Dan, sit down. I have rather a large favor to ask you, but first, I want your professional opinion.”

  “Do you think it is worth anything, after last night?”

  Jesse smiled patiently. “Dan, you’re exasperating, at times. Why should you know anything about childbirth, anyway? It is not our usual wartime dilemma. No, Dan, I want your professional opinion about our soldiers.”

  Daniel’s face was flushed, but he swallowed, then raised his eyes to Jesse’s. “I think that Marlow could probably walk if he had to, but the other two will die.”

  “My opinion precisely.” He took a deep breath. “I am going to propose that you remain here in Santos with the men. Father Esteban assures me that the village will hide you, but I am not going to tell you it will not be dangerous. By this afternoon, I believe the French will be everywhere.” He put up his hand when Daniel opened his mouth. “No, think about it for a moment. We could leave the men here, and you could come with us. They would probably survive.”

  Daniel was silent a long moment. “We don’t know that, do we?”

  “We do not, my friend.” Jesse touched Dan’s hand. “I should stay, but I feel I must get to the border with this information.” He sighed. “And there is Bones.”

  “I will stay.” Dan looked at Elinore. “What about Nell?”

  Elinore held her breath, then let it out slowly when Jesse took her hand. “Elinore, Senora Ramos said you could remain with them. If you were working as a maid there, I doubt the French would even know you were in the village. In the spring when the army returns, I could retrieve you.”

  “No,” she replied, her voice low. She moved her fingers in his grip, and he tightened it. “No. I can’t stay here without you.”

  “It might be safer,” he argued.

  She shook her head. “There is no safety anywhere in this world, Captain. You know it and I know it. Consider this: my Spanish isn’t very good, but yours is worse.”

  She could not avoid the uncertainty in his eyes, and then his humor at her words. “You’ll keep me out of trouble, eh?”

  “And you’ll get me to the border.”

  He released her hand. “I did promise that, didn’t I?”

  “And a lot of other things, too,” she told him. She took a deep breath. “Get me a pen and paper. I have work to do.” She looked at Father Esteban, who stood by the door. “I believe Father is here to remind you two that you have promised a sick call this morning, and didn’t you say the French were coming? Must I remind you both that right now Major Sheffield would be looking at his watch, tapping his foot, and muttering about the slackness in the medical corps? Really, Captain! Set me a good example.”

  I can’t believe that came out of my mouth, Elinore thought as Jesse stared at her, then glanced at Dan, who was already smiling and on his feet. In another moment there was paper in front of her, and a pen and inkwell. Well-done, Elinore, she told herself, and pulled the French battle plans closer. She looked up. Jesse was still standing there, and she couldn’t interpret the look on his face.

  As she sat still, he leaned over behind her, put both arms around her, and leaned on the table, his face close to hers. “Elinore, you’re too polite. You know that Dave Sheffield would have growled at me and said, ‘Captain, pull your finger out of your arse, wash your hands, and get busy.’ ”

  She laughed, and gave him a little prod with her elbow. He still did not move, and she felt her body grow warm in places she had not expected. Goodness, but he is a distraction, she thought. “Go away now,” she said. “I have to get busy and…” She stopped when he kissed her ear, which made her feel even warmer in that cold room.

  “Elinore, I do believe you are a martinet,” he said. “Why is it that a man doesn’t learn these sad facts before he is married?”

  And then he was gone, following Daniel out the door and picking up his medical satchel as he went. She shook her head, dipped the pen in the inkwell, and began to copy the report. The pleasant warmth spread up to her stomach. “H’mm,” she said.

  “Tell him to open wide and say ah.”

  Jesse pushed up his sleeves and peered down yet another throat, this one belonging to a child held against his will by his mother. It had been a morning of bruises, sore throats, minor burns, and one boil to lance, but nothing that required his full attention. It gave him time to think of Elinore, usually so quiet and tractable, ordering him about. The funny part was, he didn’t mind. He wanted to peer down the last sore throat, go back to the room where she sat copying the paper, pull her onto his lap, and see what she would do. And still I have no time, he thought. Hippocrates, this is not fair, and you know it.

  “Tell this little beast’s mama to give him a spoonful of honey every hour, and lots of water.”

  He waited while Father Esteban translated, and listened for his rendition of the woman’s heated response. “She tells me that is what she is already doing. Can’t you do better than that?”

  “Father, I had nothing left in my satchel when we left Burgos yesterday!” he declared. “Honey and water are probably the best remedy, anyway. No, wait, don’t tell her that.” He looked in his satchel again, hoping for the appearance of some grandiose medicament that would impress the woman.

  At a loss, he dug deeper in his satchel. After a moment’s search, all the while deeply aware of the woman’s angry eyes, he came across the packet of sugar and the tea tin that he carried. I hope you’re not watching, Hippocrates, he thought as he sprinkled some of the sugar with a little alum into an empty pill envelope. He handed it to the woman as he spoke to the priest. “Tell her that this is to be used quite sparingly, because it is so potent,” he said, grateful that his old maestro was safely teaching in Milan, and nowhere near such heresy from his favorite student. “She is to sprinkle a pinch of it in a glass of boiled water—mind you, it must be boiled water—let it dissolve entirely, and then make sure her boy drinks it all. This must be given one half hour after the honey, or it will not be effective. Better tell her to hold his nose while he swallows, so he won’t notice the taste.” And pray God I am long out of town, in case she decides to dip her finger in the sugar and finds out what I have prescribed.

  Mercifully, the next patient—an old woman—wanted to talk about her multitude of ailments. All he needed to do was nod in sympathy, put his ear to her drooping breasts while she giggled, and tell her to get more rest and drink a glass of wine, preferably red, before bed.

  “Well, we did no harm, Dan,” he said when Father Esteban escorted the last patient from the makeshift surgery. He looked at the loaves of bread, cheese, and beaker of olive oil against the wall. “With that and Wilkie’s ham—there had better be some left—we should make it to the next village.”

  Dan nodded. Jesse hesitated. “I hope you do not think I am behaving badly by leaving you here.”

  “Not at all, sir,” the hospital steward replied. “If we all stay, we will probably be captured. It is also possible that the villagers would begin to resent us even more if there are so many to feed.” His voice hardened. “You must confront Major Bones when you reach the Portuguese lines. I rather think, sir, that you have given me the easier task.”

  “Time will prove or disprove that.”

  Dan nodded. He got up from the table and repacked his medical satchel. He cleared his throat, but did not look at Jesse.

  “Well?”

  “Captain, if you please, take very good care of Elinore,” Dan said. “There is something about her.” He shook his head, even as a rosy color traveled up
from his neck. “I know you are married to her now, but, sir, there is something about her.”

  Jesse held out his hand. Dan looked at him in surprise, took it gingerly, then shook it. “I didn’t marry her on a whim, Daniel, I promise you I didn’t.”

  He could see the surprise in his steward’s eyes. “Does she know that?”

  “Not yet. I am still hoping to find the right time.”

  “Don’t wait too long, Captain. Good-bye now. I will see you when Wellington returns in the spring.”

  “Indeed you will.” He couldn’t trust himself to say more. Daniel seemed to have the same affliction. The steward slung his satchel across his back, gave a small salute, and left the room. “Go with God, lad,” Jesse murmured.

  When he returned to the room where he had left Elinore, she had just finished shaking sand across the page. She looked up, and he could not ignore the trust in her eyes. Harper and Wilkie were looking expectantly at him, too. We’re a strange little company now, he thought. We’re a hospital with no patients, which is just as well, because my only medicine is sugar. I have two inept soldiers who may be the biggest scoundrels in the Peninsula. And there is Elinore, who is looking at me as though I have the ability to get us alive to Portugal. Hippocrates, this was not part of the Oath.

  “Are we ready?” he asked, hoping that he sounded more confident than he felt.

  “Un momento, Capitán, por favor.”

  Jesse looked around. Father Esteban had followed him into the room. Behind him was a tall man, probably as old as his father, but with a distinctly regal bearing. Jesse looked at his eyes, then looked away. You’re a cold man, he thought.

  “Captain, may I acquaint you with Armand Leger?”

  Jesse took an involuntary step backward, even as both Harper and Wilkie moved closer. “He’s French?” Jesse asked. “What are you doing, Father Esteban?”

  The priest held up his hand. “There is no betrayal here, my friend. Senor Leger has been hiding in our village. He is the favor I wished to speak to you about yesterday. Will you take him with you to the Portuguese border?”