by Brown, T. J.
The city looked nothing like that now, she thought, falling behind Albert to prepare for landing. A British naval base constructed mostly of tin, wood, and canvas buildings created an ugly counterpart to the otherwise charming city. Many of the Allied efforts were located here because of its strategic importance and proximity to Flanders. She followed Albert’s lead and landed smoothly. The moment she braked, she was surrounded by English soldiers eager to get the aeroplane under cover.
Some of the soldiers gave her split skirt strange looks until she pulled off her goggles and helmet and pulled her hair out of the back of her jacket. She’d found it made for less confusion if the men knew right away that she was a woman. Several of them looked shocked, but she supposed they were too polite to say anything. Even dressed in her flying clothes, she looked exactly like what she was: a lady. It was locked into the fineness of her features and the soft fairness of her skin.
Albert hurried back to her. “What did you see?”
“A German aeroplane. I think he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.”
One of the men glanced at her with new respect. “You out-flew a German pilot and lived to tell the tale? Not many can say that.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think he even tried to follow.”
The man shrugged. “At any rate, you’d best go tell the captain. Thanks for the aeroplanes.” He saluted them and went back to his work.
Their debriefing didn’t last long because there wasn’t much to tell. By the time they were done, Rowena was starving and the captain walked them over to the mess hall.
“We will try to get you on a transport ship taking wounded soldiers back to England, but I’m not sure if there will be room. We’ll have someone drive you to the hotel we use for visiting dignitaries after we eat. You can check back with us in the morning and I will have a better sense of availability.”
Rowena nodded. They were just entering the tent when a private stopped them.
“Captain, I was told to deliver this to you immediately.” He handed the captain a note, his eyes sliding toward Rowena as he did so.
The captain raised his eyebrows as he read the outside of the envelope. “This says it’s for Rowena Buxton.” He turned to the private. “Did this come by cable?”
The private nodded, and the captain handed the slip of paper to Rowena.
She frowned and her heart rate kicked up a notch. Who could have sent it? Only Mr. Dirkes knew where she was. . . . Her heart slammed into her ribs once again.
Jonathon.
She ripped the envelope open with trembling fingers.
Jonathon found near Flanders. Badly wounded. At the Red Cross hospital at Le Touquet. Possible to check on him? D.D.
Rowena stared at the words trying to make sense of what she was reading. The men were still standing in front of the door. The captain must have read the expression on her face because he asked, “Bad news?”
“Yes, someone, a . . . friend, is badly hurt.” She looked at Albert. “They found Jonathon. Mr. Dirkes wants us to check on him.”
“Where is he?”
“A base hospital in Le Touquet. Is there any way we can get there? He’s a fellow pilot.”
The captain hesitated. “It’s closer to the front. You know that, right?”
She nodded.
“All right then. I will lend you my motorcar and driver. But please be back by the morning. I would like to have you both on the ship back home. I don’t like being responsible for civilians.”
It took about ten minutes for the arrangements to be made and included a hastily packed dinner for the road.
“That’s British military efficiency,” Albert said, taking a bite of a meat sandwich. “You should eat something.”
Rowena took a sandwich automatically, but knew she wouldn’t be able to force it into her mouth. Her temples throbbed and her eyes burned with the effort to keep from crying. Even though she was praying that she was wrong, her instincts told her that his life was already slipping from him. She must get to him. She couldn’t let him die all alone in a foreign country.
She leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Purposefully, she brought up every detail of their time together. Every moment she could possibly remember. From the night she held him in her arms after he had crashed, to visiting him in the hospital soon after. She remembered the first time he’d taken her up in an aeroplane, and the moment when he’d kissed her on the sidewalk in the village, inadvertently setting off the events that would lead to her engagement to Sebastian. She remembered the way he laughed, the blue of his eyes, and the way the sun glinted off the red-gold of his hair.
She remembered those hushed, halcyon hours spent in that hotel room as he made love to her and how she thought she would die of happiness.
She remembered his walking away from her and the last time they had met, when she’d walked away from him. She prayed that she would arrive in time. How tragic it would be if the last words they exchanged were angry.
When they arrived at the hospital, Albert let her go in first. She was fairly sure that he didn’t know about her relationship with Jonathon, but Mr. Dirkes had sent the note to her.
She followed an orderly back to a long room with iron beds set in straight rows every four feet. It was dark by then and the room was lit with only a few small gaslights set on low.
A nurse, dressed as primly as a nun in a habit, came to her and asked whom she was there to see. She didn’t ask why Rowena had been afforded the privilege of a late-night visit. Many of the men who were in that room wouldn’t survive the trip back to England. If someone showed up to say their good-byes, it was allowed.
“How is he?”
The nurse pressed her lips together. “Are you his sweetheart?” she asked in a lilting Irish accent.
Rowena was about to shake her head but changed her mind. “Yes.” What other sweetheart did he have?
The nurse briefly touched Rowena’s shoulder. “You’d best say your good-byes. He has internal injuries and took a blow to the head that would have already killed most men. I don’t know how he managed to burn his aeroplane and walk to safety.”
Because he is one of the most determined men who ever lived, Rowena thought as the nurse took her to Jonathon’s bedside and brought her a chair. His head had been wrapped in a white bandage, but she could see blood leaking through. His hand lay on the outside of the coverlet, and Rowena picked it up and held it between hers. “Jonathon,” she whispered. “I’m here with you now.”
She waited but Jonathon didn’t respond. Oh, please, Lord, let him respond. Please let him know I am here. She sat quietly for a moment, then continued talking as if he could hear her. “I flew over the Channel today. I flew in a Vickers even more advanced than my own. Mr. Dirkes must really believe in my skills if he would have me bring one of those aeroplanes over. Wait until you fly it. It’s light as a bird but responds beautifully. Dirkes sends his love, as does your mother.” They hadn’t of course, but she knew that they did. That even now their love was surrounding them both and would buoy Jonathon on his journey. His hand still lay limp and motionless in hers. Her breath caught and she continued her endless talking, talking, talking.
“Did you know that Cristobel and I ride together when I’m home? She probably never told you that, did she? But we do, and when it’s time for her to be presented, I am going to give her my white dress and make sure she has a proper coming-out ball. I know you don’t think that’s important, but Cristobel does. I think I am going to have her hunt with me next season, she has become quite the jumper. . . .” Rowena ran out of words and covered her eyes with her hand. The events of the day caught up with her and her stomach rolled. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm the dizziness.
Suddenly she felt a tiny movement of his hand within hers. She looked up to find Jonathon’s blue eyes trained on her face. They were speaking to her, his eyes, communicating with her without words. She could feel his love
and gratitude washing over her. She leaned forward and again brought to mind the memories she had recalled earlier. His mouth on hers. The laughter they’d shared when that silly stick fell out of the aeroplane. She willed the memories to flood his mind, too, and felt that perhaps they were. His eyes drooped and she could feel his pain and exhaustion.
Bending closer, she willed him to stay awake, to stay with her. She felt him trying to rally, and for a moment the determination in his eyes shone, but he was too tired and the pain was too much. His eyes fluttered.
“I love you, Jonathon,” she said, her heart breaking all over again. At this moment, nothing was more important than Jonathon’s knowing how much she loved him, and how much she would always love him.
Jonathon’s eyes dimmed and she knew he was leaving her, and without taking her eyes from his, she knelt and slipped her arms around him. While the thought of a world without Jonathon filled her with grief and loss, all she felt now was an overwhelming sense of thankfulness that she could be here with him.
How many men dying in this war were able to do so in the arms of someone who loved them?
Then he was gone.
Tears streamed down her face as she rested her head against his chest and listened to the last beatings of his heart. The connection she’d had with his spirit evaporated and she felt bereft and utterly alone. She wished Sebastian were with her.
She didn’t know how long she stayed that way, with her head pressed against his body, but by the time the nurse came to move her away, her legs were in knots of pain. She staggered with cramps as she got up.
“Is there anything I can do?” the nurse asked gently.
“No,” Rowena said, looking at Jonathon’s still form. “It’s all been done.”
chapter
twenty-one
Though she could have slept longer, Victoria’s lifelong habit of rising with the sun woke her up early. For a moment, she was disoriented and couldn’t figure out where she was. Somehow she’d expected to wake up in her dear little room in the Mayfair house with its beautiful maple furniture and marble fireplace.
Not that she didn’t adore this room in her flat. It was clean with white walls and high ceilings, and she’d had the floor refinished and it gleamed darkly. Her fireplace had been replaced with a radiator, and some of the panes in her windows were warped and pitted, but that was all right. She lived much more simply than she ever had before, and it suited her.
She swung her legs out of bed and stretched, then dug her toes into the lamb’s-wool rug next to her bed. Before heading to the bathroom, she slipped her feet into the knitted slippers Katie had given her for Christmas. She knew from experience that the tile floor of the WC could be brutally cold. Of course, now that April was finally bringing warmer weather, she didn’t burn her feet on the icy floor near so much.
After donning her soft, billowy lawn robe, she tiptoed down the hall to the kitchen to make some tea. Susie wouldn’t be up, and Eleanor was already away to one of the hospitals she either worked in or volunteered at.
On the advice of both her doctor and Eleanor, Victoria only worked three days a week at the hospital. Her heath just wouldn’t stand any more, and she was learning, finally, that she was not indestructible. She had asthma, she would always have asthma, and the sooner she reconciled herself to that, the better off she would be.
She was still working on it.
Lighting the gas range, she put the teapot on to boil and set out cups for both her and Susie. Aunt Charlotte would be aghast to know that Victoria usually made tea for her maid in the mornings, but it wasn’t Susie’s fault that her mistress liked to wake while it was still dark. Besides, Victoria knew that Susie’s beau had visited until late last night. She also knew she would in time be looking for a new housekeeper.
She padded down the hall to the front door to get the milk. It seemed odd not to have a servants’ entrance for that, but there was only one way in and out of the apartment besides the fire escape, and Victoria giggled at the thought of the milkman climbing the fire escape to leave milk outside her window.
She opened the door and jumped at the shock of finding a tall man just outside. It took her a moment to realize who it was.
Kit.
She launched herself at him, forgetting everything that had transpired between them in her gladness upon seeing him. He held her for a moment, taking her right off her feet, and a burst of happiness shot through her. He was alive.
But then he firmly set her back on her feet and stepped away from her. Because now, they were just friends.
He was in love with someone else.
Biting her lip, she backed up and motioned for him to enter. “What are you doing here? How are you? Have you seen Colin or Sebastian? And don’t forget the milk, if you please.”
He laughed, bending to retrieve the cold bottle on her step. “Even a mighty clash of countries can’t change the impertinent Miss Victoria. It’s nice to know that some things will always remain the same.”
The comment vexed her. “Shows how much you know. I have grown immensely since you last set eyes on me. Immensely.”
She felt his eyes on her as she walked down the hall into her kitchen. “I don’t see it,” he finally said.
She bit back a retort, suddenly overwhelmed by how much she yearned for him, that cheeky, insufferable tease. But her longing only made her angrier. She turned away, afraid he would see the depth of her feelings naked across her face.
So Victoria ignored his remark. “I’m sure you would like a cup of tea. Are you hungry, as well?”
“Why? Are you going to whip me up a batch of bloaters poached in cream sauce?” His voice was far too amused for her liking.
“No, you ninny, I was going to offer you a scone that Susie cooked yesterday, but I’ve changed my mind. You can starve.”
“Is that any way to treat a member of the British army?”
She took a deep breath. “You’re right. Now tell me who you’ve seen and I will get you your tea and a scone, but be a good lad and stop vexing me.”
He snorted, but changed the subject. “I saw Sebastian not too long ago. He is doing well. I think he will be getting leave in the next couple of weeks. Do you think he and Rowena will be married then?”
“That’s the plan.”
“It’s the strangest relationship,” Kit mused. “At first the engagement was fake and then it wasn’t, and then the wedding got postponed at least three times, or was it four? It gives me a headache just thinking about it. I can’t imagine what it’s doing to your aunt Charlotte.”
“Or Sebastian’s mother.” Victoria shuddered as she laid the table for tea. “Makes me glad I don’t live at Summerset anymore.”
“Yes. Poor Lainey.”
The tea water squealed and Victoria poured it carefully over the leaves she had already put in the china pot. Arranging the scones on a plate, she carried it to where Kit had seated himself at the tiny wooden kitchen table.
“I hope you don’t mind, I always have my morning tea in the kitchen now. It’s warmer than the sitting room.”
“No, this is fine.”
Victoria sat across from him and took a closer look. He was thinner than she remembered, refining his handsome, clever features. His blue eyes were a bit dimmer, as if the switch that worked the twinkle had been shut off.
How she hoped it wasn’t permanent.
He added some sugar to his cup and stirred. “I’m glad we got all that sorted out,” he said casually.
“What have we sorted out?”
“Our relationship. Just friends, you know. Like you wanted.”
Aching spread through her chest. “Yes. Such a relief, that.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“So tell me about that woman.” Victoria didn’t want to know about the woman, but if she didn’t, he might think she minded, which she did, awfully, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.
“What woman?”
Victo
ria raised her eyebrows.
“Oh, that woman. Yes. She’s great actually. Really . . . great.”
Victoria stared down into her cup, horrified that she could feel tears coming already. She was going to cry. How could he have loved her so much only to replace her so suddenly with a stranger?
She fought to keep the tears from falling, but one slipped down her face and fell off her chin into her tea.
He cleared his throat and she stared at her cup, unable to meet his eyes. Humiliation bloomed like twin roses in her cheeks.
“Actually, that isn’t exactly the truth. There is no woman. I made that up.”
Victoria looked up, startled. “Why would you lie about that?”
He shrugged and his foxy face pinched up. “You had made it clear that we were just friends and my pride was hurt. So I lied. But, I’ve come to decide that if we are to truly be friends, we have to at least be honest with one another.”
He looked into her face and frowned. “Victoria, why are you crying?”
Pride and longing warred inside. She ached to tell him that she loved him, but what if he no longer felt the same way? Hurt over her rejection still bloomed in her chest. “If you felt that way, you could have at least acknowledged my feelings. I poured out my heart and you sent me back that horrid letter, saying that you had found someone else!”
“I apologized for lying, what do you want? And, yes, you poured out your heart very well that night. You were very clear about the fact that you didn’t love me. Crystal even.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “Not then, you dolt. The letter. I am talking about my letter! You can imagine that it wasn’t easy for me to write, and then when I received your reply . . .”