Reunited with the Major

by Anne Herries

  ‘Captain Cameron, ma’am.’

  ‘Captain Cameron.’ Samantha surged forward, her heart racing. ‘Have you news of Brock? Please tell us, we have been so very anxious.’

  ‘Yes, I knew you must be, of course,’ he said. ‘Forgive me, I would have sent word sooner, but the major is badly wounded, by a sword thrust we believe, though he has not been able to tell us anything yet. We had to get him somewhere safe in case the Marquis or any of his rogues came looking for him. For the first night we stayed at a discreet inn and the doctor did what he could then, patched up his shoulder wound, but that isn’t the worst of it.’

  ‘How badly is he hurt?’ Samantha said, hiding her shaking hands as best she could.

  ‘The wound to his left arm is deep and may affect his ability to move that arm in the future. The doctor thought it best to bind Brock and leave him to recover his senses.’

  ‘Brock is unconscious?’

  ‘He seems to have been hit on the back of his head and had still not recovered his senses when I left him,’ Cameron said. ‘Harris is with him, guarding him while I came on to tell you and fetch a surgeon to him. There’s a chap who served with us who we thought he might be able to do more than the country doctor who saw him.’

  ‘Brock is still at the inn?’

  ‘Yes. Harris is with him and I mean to return there as soon as I have secured the services of the surgeon.’

  Samantha held out her hand in supplication. ‘Please, will you allow me to return with you? I can assist in the nursing, if you will call for me before you leave town.’

  ‘I must leave no later than two this afternoon.’

  ‘I shall be ready, thank you.’

  ‘Very well, I’ll take my curricle and my groom can follow with my horse.’ He inclined his head towards Rosemarie and Robert. ‘Excuse me, I have several things to do and I do not wish to leave Brock too long.’

  ‘You are worried for his safety?’

  ‘The Marquis escaped. We believe that he was wounded slightly in his leg, but he got away. Harris caught sight of him as we were carrying Brock from the house and shot at his back, but he was too far away and his horse was moving fast. However, the men we captured, who are now safely under lock and key, told us he was wounded in his left leg.’

  ‘He will be even more dangerous,’ Samantha said, and caught back a cry of fear. ‘Please go, sir. I shall be waiting when you return.’

  After he had gone, Samantha turned to Rosemarie. ‘Forgive me for deserting you, Rosemarie. I believe if you send word to the Earl you may go to him today. I must go to Brock. I must be with him.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Rosemarie said, giving Robert a scared glance. ‘If the Marquis is still alive...’

  ‘He is wounded,’ Robert said. ‘He will lie low for a while. You must not be afraid of him, dearest.’

  ‘No, I shall not be. I was not even when I was his prisoner in that dreadful house, but I know that he meant to kill me once he was married. Now he has nothing to wait for he may decide to just kill me.’

  ‘Yet I believe it will not be you he seeks out first,’ Samantha said. ‘Brock confronted him and you were wrested from that evil man’s grasp. He will not easily forgive that, I think. If he seeks revenge against anyone, it will be Brock himself. If he discovers that Brock is still alive, he will wait his chance to take his revenge on him.’

  ‘Yes, I agree with you, Mrs Scatterby. Besides, at your grandfather’s house you will never be alone. He cannot harm you now, dearest,’ Robert said, then, firmly, ‘Rosemarie, go and help Mrs Scatterby get ready, and then you may pack your own things. I shall write a letter to your grandfather and then I shall take you to him.’

  Samantha left them to their arrangements. Had it not been for the Earl’s offer of protection she might have felt that her duty lay towards Rosemarie, but the girl would be safer with her grandfather. And she needed to be with Brock.

  If he were to die... Memories of her late husband’s painful and lingering death were sharp. She had nursed him until the end and understood what she might be forced to witness today, but she must be with Brock. She must spend these last days with him, even if he did not know she was there. Brock was her true love and if she lost him life would no longer be worth living.

  She’d picked herself up and learned to live again after Percy died, but was not sure she could do it this time.

  ‘Oh, Brock, my darling. My dearest love,’ she murmured as she entered her room and began to pull out the things she would need. She must not take too much for her own needs, but there were things that a recovering invalid might find beneficial and she could only hope that he would recover in time.

  He must because she loved him so much.

  * * *

  Samantha was ready and waiting, already on thorns when Captain Cameron arrived. The military surgeon was travelling on horseback and might arrive at their destination before them.

  ‘It was fortunate that you found him at home,’ Samantha said, desperately trying to hold her emotions in check, though every nerve in her body screamed with the need to reach Brock’s side, to be with him and comfort him.

  ‘I knew Maxwell was in town. I spoke to him before I left to join Brock as he requested. I wish I had been a little sooner. Had we gone in together I might have prevented what happened.’

  ‘You could not have known you would be needed.’ She twisted her white gloves in her hands, her throat tight with the tears she would never shed in front of another.

  ‘I had been out of town, as you know, and returned hours after Brock and the others had left. I rode hard to catch up with them, but was in time only to stop them finishing him off.’

  ‘Thank God you were. Was that the Marquis’s intention?’

  ‘I think it may have been, but we shall never know for certain. He heard us shoot the other rogue and left in a hurry.’

  ‘Brock is very strong. He has been wounded before.’ Samantha spoke more to convince herself than Cameron.

  ‘Yes, I agree. However, it is the head wound that worries me. They can be fatal, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Not always. A friend of Brock’s came round from a coma after some weeks of lying there apparently dead to the world.’

  ‘That was exceptionally fortunate. Phipps told me about his brother.’

  ‘You haven’t seen him recently?’

  ‘No, I believe he is in the country with his wife.’ Cameron hesitated, then, ‘Once Brock can be moved I was wondering where we should take him. I think we are nearer to his parents’ home than to his own personal estate or that of Phipps.’

  ‘Have his parents been told?’

  ‘No, not yet. I thought it more important to tell you—and to fetch Maxwell to him.’ He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I dare say they ought to be informed, but perhaps you would not wish... I am not sure what...’ He lapsed into an embarrassed silence.

  ‘We are very good friends and we may perhaps be more in the future, but nothing is spoken of yet so I would prefer that you did not speak of an understanding between us.’

  ‘Yes, I see. I did think it might be that, Mrs Scatterby, but I wasn’t sure.’

  ‘Brock has only just ended his engagement to Miss Cynthia Langton,’ Samantha said. ‘Therefore, he would not wish to make anything public yet, and indeed nothing definite has been said. We have had little time for our own affairs since he brought Miss Ross to me.’

  ‘Yes. I believe she is now comfortably settled.’ Cameron sighed and then shrugged ruefully. ‘Well, I must wish her all happiness in the future, though I would have liked another outcome—but that is at an end.’

  ‘I am sorry. It is hard to see someone you love engaged to another.’

  ‘Yes, but Robert Carstairs is a good chap. I thought he might have had other ideas, but it seems I was mistake
n. He will look after her.’ Cameron lapsed into a thoughtful silence and Samantha left him to his thoughts.

  She could think only of Brock and pray that his condition had not deteriorated by the time they arrived.

  * * *

  Samantha wiped Brock’s forehead. He was hot and restless, and she’d been bathing him to keep him cool, as the surgeon, Colonel Maxwell, had bade her. At least her prayers had been answered and he was still alive. She thanked God for it and for the fact that Brock had cried out in pain when Maxwell was probing his festering wound earlier. He was still there somewhere, even though he had not yet opened his eyes.

  ‘Brock, my darling,’ she whispered. ‘Live for me, my love. I beg you, live for me.’

  The door opened and she saw the innkeeper had brought a kettle of hot water. She smiled to thank him.

  ‘Yes, that is right. We shall need more soon, I think.’

  ‘My wife will bring it up. I have been asked to help hold the gentleman steady.’

  Samantha nodded, knowing that Brock was about to suffer dreadfully, but it had to be done. If the damage was left untreated it could turn bad and he could die of gangrene spreading through his body slowly—a long, lingering death. A sob rose in her throat, but she fought it down. She must not give in to her grief no matter what. If Brock needed her, she would do all that was required.

  She waited for the others to join them. It would be her job to hold the bowl and the trays containing the surgeon’s instruments. Maxwell had asked if she were prepared to do it and she’d agreed. She would have done whatever was necessary to help the man she loved so much. First of all, she placed the knife and probes and surgical needles in the metal trays and poured boiling water on to them, as the surgeon had instructed. Then she held them for his use, holding them steady despite the desire to weep that was burning at the back of her eyes.

  The surgeon cut deeply through the skin, opening the upper flesh so that he could see the damage to the sinew as the two men held Brock down. He’d been given something to quieten him, to help with the pain, but it did not stop him crying out and jerking, as the blade sliced deep and the surgeon probed, removing a tiny slither of steel that had been left in the wound from the edge of the sword blade.

  ‘That is what was causing the problem,’ he muttered. ‘Nothing to do with the muscle, I’m glad to say, just a fraction of metal that broke off as it penetrated the hard muscle—often the case in wounds like these.’

  Gathering the damaged tissue, Maxwell made quick neat stitches to repair the long slash to the injured tissue, then folded the layers of flesh and skin back into place and made a neat seam, almost as if he were sewing a trouser hem. He dropped the lancet and needles in the tray Samantha was holding and then dabbed at the wound with his special swabs, which had been dipped in alcohol and soon turned pink with blood. That must sting his poor tortured flesh so much, Samantha thought, wincing inwardly. She did not flinch, even though her heart ached for Brock’s suffering. Maxwell turned to look at her as she put down the bowl, nodding his head in approval.

  She watched as the wound was stitched, wiped clean of blood once more and then she was asked to hold a thick pad of clean linen over the wound as the bandages were applied and fastened tightly to hold the pad secure.

  ‘Good.’ Maxwell pronounced himself satisfied. ‘That should do it. Now, he needs to be kept cool, his fever tended and that bandage changed in a day or so. Your local doctor can do that. I must return to London.’

  ‘Thank you, you confounded butcher.’

  The voice came from the bed, startling them all, making Samantha cry out as she saw that Brock’s eyes were open and staring at them.

  She moved swiftly to the bed, bending over him. ‘Brock, you’re awake. Oh, my dearest, you’re awake.’

  ‘That butcher would awaken the dead,’ he said with a wry twist of his lips. ‘I feel like hell. Can’t you give me something to ease this pain a little?’

  ‘Would you like some laudanum?’ Maxwell asked. ‘I gave you a tiny drop, but it didn’t seem to help much. I wouldn’t advise a large dose, Major. It would knock you out, but soon becomes a habit if you give into it. I normally only give it to the amputees—you’ve only got a scratch, my dear fellow. Stiff upper lip and all that.’

  ‘Who asked for that stuff?’ Brock asked testily. ‘I could do with a stiff brandy.’

  ‘Now that is out of the question,’ Samantha said at once. ‘I am sure the doctor would agree.’

  ‘Be damned to what he thinks,’ Brock said, moaned with pain and put his head back, his eyes closed.

  ‘Give him a small brandy if he wants it,’ Maxwell said, and smiled. ‘Nothing much wrong with him that careful nursing and a few days’ rest won’t cure. I hoped the pain might bring him out of the unconscious state he was in—that’s why I didn’t give him too much laudanum.’

  ‘Butcher,’ Brock muttered through clenched teeth, though his eyes remained closed.

  Samantha walked to the door with the surgeon. She smiled as he prepared to leave.

  ‘It was so good of you to come, sir. We cannot thank you enough for all that you’ve done for him.’

  ‘I would stay longer, but I am due somewhere tomorrow morning—and I can’t get out of it, a new posting. Lucky Cameron caught me at home when he did. I meant what I said—a brandy won’t hurt just this once. We use spirits for all kinds of things when we’re under fire and I’ve never lost a man because of it yet.’

  ‘Again, I cannot thank you enough.’

  ‘Brock would have done as much for me. Take no notice of his complaints, ma’am. The strong ones always make the worst patients. He’ll be yelling at you in a couple of days, but he’s lost a lot of blood and he must be kept in bed for as long as you can prevail on him to stay there.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll find a way to make him stay,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he will mend now, sir.’

  ‘So am I. He’s as tough as old army boots.’

  Samantha laughed and returned to the bed. She reached out to touch Brock’s hand and his fingers clasped about hers with surprising strength.

  ‘I shall fetch a small glass of brandy for the gentleman,’ the innkeeper said and departed.

  ‘I’ll go and leave you to rest, old fellow,’ Cameron said, but Brock opened his eyes.

  ‘Wait for a moment. What happened after I was attacked? Did they get Miss Ross away?’

  ‘Yes, she is safe and sound in London with her grandfather,’ Samantha said. ‘He will take care of her now until her marriage.’

  ‘Thank God for it,’ Brock said and she saw the tension go out of him. ‘I need not worry about her in future.’

  ‘She is worried about you, however. I shall write and let her know you have recovered your senses.’

  ‘How long have I been out?’

  ‘Four days,’ Cameron said. ‘We brought you here and then I went for Maxwell and Mrs Scatterby wished to come, too.’

  ‘Yes, Sam would,’ Brock murmured. ‘Where is that devil Barchester? Did you get him?’

  ‘I’m afraid he managed to escape us. Harris and I went back for you while Carstairs took Miss Ross to London. We saw Barchester ride away, but although Harris shot at him, he was too far away.’

  Brock swore. ‘Damn it. I hoped he was finished. I tried to shoot, but he got me first.’

  ‘I believe you winged him in the leg, but nothing serious.’

  Brock cursed, moving his head from side to side on the pillows. ‘So he is free to continue his wicked ways.’

  ‘Well, he is finished in society. The Earl of Sandeford is determined to have him ostracised. I imagine that his hopes of a rich marriage have ended. He was a fool to take such a risk and has lost everything.’

  Brock winced, his eyes closing for a moment in pain. ‘We must hope he is suffering at least some of
the pain I’m in. I don’t feel able to cope with a visit from our friend just yet.’

  ‘I’ve sent word to your father,’ Cameron said. ‘Your groom should return with a carriage to take you home and an escort soon enough. Until then, I’m afraid you’ll have to trust me to keep you safe, Brock.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s hardly fair on you. Not your quarrel.’

  ‘I made it mine,’ Captain Cameron said. ‘When Barchester snatched Miss Ross he burned his boats—and if he comes here looking to cause trouble he will get more than he bargained for.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Brock closed his eyes again but opened them as the innkeeper returned with the brandy.

  ‘Here you are, sir.’

  Brock took the glass, drank the fiery spirit down in one go and then lay back, closing his eyes. Samantha took the dangling glass from his hand, smiling as she turned to look at Captain Cameron.

  ‘He is asleep, worn out, I dare say. Please feel free to go and rest yourself, sir. I shall stay with him for now.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be in the next room if you call.’ Cameron hesitated, then took a pistol from his coat pocket and placed it on the chest next to the bed. ‘I think Barchester will not try anything just yet. He is possibly suffering with a leg wound himself—or he may have gone off abroad, because he must know he can’t show his face here again, but if he should come here just shoot him.’

  ‘Yes,’ Samantha said calmly. ‘I shall.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  After the mangling his arm had received at the hands of the regimental surgeon, it was not to be wondered at when Brock developed a fever. He became very hot and tossed restlessly, calling out in his delirium. At one time it was someone named Mary that had him crying out and begging to be forgiven, and then, after Samantha had soothed and calmed him, he was quiet for a while, but then the fever mounted again and he was fretful, Rosemarie’s name on his lips over and over again.

  ‘It is all right, my dearest one,’ Samantha said, soothing a cool cloth over his neck, uninjured shoulder and chest. ‘Rosemarie is quite safe now thanks to you and Lieutenant Carstairs. She is with her grandfather.’