Carla Kelly

by The Wedding Journey

  “And the French at the Douro?”

  He shrugged. “They seem reluctant to advance.”

  Then why did they even care about us, she thought bitterly and felt her weariness returning. They crossed the courtyard in silence to the former guildhall, even now subject to the noise of carpenters and other mechanics. “Old Nosey aims to leave behind a substantial force.” The sentry permitted himself a smile. “When we return in the spring, I think he wants no more retreating.”

  At the guildhall, the sentry took her up a flight of stairs and past an entire row of sentries until the door opened on division headquarters. She sighed with relief to see Jesse sitting there, his feet propped on a hassock, a pillow behind his head. He looked at her, but his expression remained serious. Harper sat next to him, looking distinctly uncomfortable, the only private in a roomful of brass. Without thinking, she looked for Wilkie: her eyes filled with tears.

  General Picton sat behind his desk. The man seated in front of him turned around, and she stepped back involuntarily.

  “Nell,” he said.

  “Major Bones, I am Mrs. Randall,” she said when she collected herself.

  “Oh, yes. How could I forget?”

  At a quiet word from Jesse, Private Harper moved the hassock beside her husband’s chair. She sat in it, after pushing it a little closer to him. She took his hand, chagrined to find it so cold. She looked at him, a question in her eyes, but she could not tell his emotion.

  General Picton cleared his throat. “Mrs. Randall, your husband and Private Harper have been telling us quite a story about the retreat.”

  “Pardon me, General, it is no story,” she said.

  “They have made some harsh accusations against Major Bones here.” He sighed, and shifted some papers on his desk. “Granted, I find it hard to fathom how someone can misplace a marching hospital, but I have been trying to argue that sometimes mistakes happen during war, especially during retreats.”

  “Mistakes?” she said, half rising from the hassock.

  “Yes, mistakes!” Major Bones declared. “You don’t think I would deliberately abandon a hospital?”

  “But you did! You did!” She looked at Jesse and Harper. “What is going on?”

  “We’re being corrected, my love,” Jesse said, “and reminded that such things do happen. Major Bones here has informed us that we have only your father’s word that he ever owed him any money, and reminds me that I never saw him loan Captain Mason a tuppence.” Jesse slapped the chair’s arm with the flat of his hand, his eyes ferocious. “Don’t glare at me, General Picton! If you will not believe the loans that led to what Sheffield and I felt we had to do to save Elinore’s virtue, I cannot imagine you can overlook the fact that this…this despicable beast was directly responsible for the death of Major Sheffield, an alcalde in a little village, and the rape of that man’s daughter!”

  General Picton stood up suddenly and leaned across the desk. “I have never said I do not believe you, Captain Randall. I only remind you that Captain Mason himself must confirm those debts. Who else can verify what happened in that village near Burgos? You know we won’t be back there until summer next, and you have given me only hearsay.” He turned troubled eyes on Major Bones. “The major steadfastly denies all your charges, and reminds me of his spotless record.” He held out his hands to Elinore. “All I am saying is that we must defer justice, in this instance.”

  “I am not satisfied,” Jesse snapped.

  Picton sat down heavily, rummaged on his desk, and held up the pages from Souham’s saddlebags she had copied before they left Santos. “I do appreciate these, and will forward them immediately to Sir Arthur in Lisbon. You have surely done us a great service.” He glanced at Major Bones. “I will put a formal reprimand in your dossier about the misplacing of Number Eight.”

  “And I will respectfully deny that it was my fault, General. The blame lies with the regimental commanders,” Bones insisted. He looked at Jesse and smiled. “I think it can be expunged easily enough.” He coughed. “I wouldn’t want to air anyone’s dirty laundry, but it was general knowledge around the officers that Captain Randall had been wanting to find some way to convince Miss Mason to marry him. Everyone knew he was in love with her, but God knows he is shy. He was using me as an expedient to force her hand. Deny it, Randall.”

  The words hung ugly and heavy in the room. Elinore let out her breath in a long sigh, unsure where to look.

  “I never told anyone I was in love with Elinore Mason,” Jesse said finally, but she could hear the defeat in his voice.

  “You didn’t have to,” Bones said softly. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off her! At least it gave all of us something to chuckle about for a few years.”

  I can’t look at anyone in this room, Elinore thought as her stomach churned. Picton will not listen, and we have no proof of anything against Bones until summer, providing Dan O’Leary and the patients in Santos are still alive. She thought of the alcalde’s daughter. Repeating her story to a military tribunal of Englishmen would send her into the deepest dishonor possible for a Spanish woman. She would never do it.

  Elinore leaned back and forced herself to breathe calmly. The alcalde’s daughter! “Jesse, do you have your medical satchel? The shoulder one?”

  “It’s in the hospital. But…”

  “Harper, would you get it, please?” she asked. He left the room on the run.

  “Nell, Nell, it’s all right,” Major Bones said. “I can understand why you would all be upset at being abandoned. Too bad about your father.”

  “Yes, it is too bad, isn’t it?” she said, looking him in the eyes now. “No one ever believes a drunk, a weak man. It’s easier to laugh and exploit him, isn’t it?”

  “My dear, I think we have lost this round,” Jesse said, “but it isn’t over.”

  She touched his face. “No, we haven’t lost this round, my dear. You really have loved me for years?”

  “You know I have,” he replied, his eyes bright.

  “You’re wasting time, Nell,” Bones said, as though he could read her mind. “I am certain General Picton has important things to do.”

  She held her hands tightly together to keep them from shaking. “Major Bones, you are a menace, and I will prove it. Please humor me, General Picton.”

  Picton nodded and sat back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “I’m not as busy as you might think, Major Bones,” he said pleasantly.

  They sat in silence, listening for Harper’s footsteps. Elinore took pleasure in the sight of perspiration rolling down Major Bones’ face, even though the room was cool.

  She heard the rattle of bottles in the satchel and tightened her grip on Jesse’s hand as Harper came thundering down the hall, only to be stopped by the sentries, who ordered him forward at a sedate pace. Harper placed the satchel next to her. She opened it and took out the little wooden box with the glass containers.

  “What are you looking for, Elinore?” Jesse asked.

  “The permanganate of potassium, if you please. I wrapped the chit around it because the bottle rattled more than the others and I thought it might break.”

  “Here.” He sucked in his breath. “My God, I forgot.”

  She took it out and untied the string binding the little paper to it. “Do you want to do the honors?”

  “Oh, no! You’re the one who remembered it. Besides, I think a woman can give this argument its proper perspective.”

  With trembling fingers, Elinore unwrapped the little chit that the alcalde’s daughter had handed her. She spread it out on General Picton’s desk as Major Bones rose from his chair.

  “As you were, Major,” the general ordered. He looked at Harper. “Private, do summon a sentry.” He glanced over at Bones. “Just a formality, Major. I am certain you have nothing to fear.” He read the chit. His face went pale. He looked at Elinore. “Please tell me how you obtained this.”

  “The alcalde’s daughter gave it to me,” she said, not taking
her eyes from Major Bones. “That man there who claims to be an officer and a gentleman rolled it up and stuffed it in her mouth after he…he raped her. You can probably see the tooth marks if you look closely, sir. This was after he killed her father in front of her eyes, but, of course, I cannot prove that. The murder can wait until summer, I suppose, when we can produce a whole village of witnesses, but this fearful indignity to an ally need not wait.”

  General Picton read the note again, then folded it. “Major Bones, how unfortunate that king and country labor under the misapprehension that you are an officer and a gentleman. On your own honor, I insist that you retire to your quarters, where you will remain under house arrest.”

  “But…”

  “No, no, Captain Randall. We have to trust him that far. Major Bones, tomorrow I will authorize a detachment to escort you to Lisbon. When summer comes, we will continue this discussion. Do leave right now. The sight of you is making me ill.”

  Major Bones got to his feet, his face drained of all color, except for two red spots burning in his cheeks. He took a step toward Elinore, but Harper was on his feet and standing in front of her before the sentry had time to react.

  Major Bones turned on his heel and left the room, followed by the sentry. Elinore listened to him all the way down the hall, not relaxing until she could not hear his footsteps. Without a word, she leaned her head against Jesse’s shoulder.

  “Ugly business, my dears,” Picton remarked. “I hope you understand what I did.”

  “I don’t, begging your pardon, General,” Harper said.

  “Even the most certifiable bastard deserves evidence.” He indicated the note. “This chit will hold him all winter in his quarters, with a sentry in front. When the army marches in the spring, we’ll get to that village.” He frowned at his desk. “I do not suppose we can realistically argue his culpability for your dear surgeon’s death (more’s the pity), but the alcalde is another matter.” He came around the corner of his desk, and held out his hand to Elinore. “We’ll do the right thing, my dear.”

  “I will be happy to testify to everything,” she said.

  “No need. My aide will take all your depositions.” He released her hand. “You will have better things to do in…in Dundee, did you say, Captain Randall?”

  “But, won’t we be in Portugal all winter, Jesse?” Elinore asked, puzzled.

  “No, my love,” he said. “I didn’t ask your permission, but I resigned my commission before Major Bones joined us for this delightful conversation. We’re going home.” His eyes brightened. “Do you like the sound of that, Elinore?”

  He got to his feet, and she put her arms around him, careful not to jostle his poor head. “I like it very well, Jesse,” she told him, then glanced at Harper, who was grinning broadly. “But I will miss Harper.”

  “No need,” he told her. “I am not as shy as I used to be, I think, and I argued rather persuasively with the general here that Harper be allowed to leave his enlistment and come with us. I know you will insist that I have a driver, especially for those late-night home visits that are the peril of every country physician. He seemed agreeable, eh, Harper?”

  “Anything you say, Chief.”

  “Well, then,” Picton said, and clapped his hands together. “I am sorry for the end of Number Eight. I doubt your replacements will be as colorful.” He walked them to the door, then turned to Elinore. “My dear, that note from my ADC informs me that the bodies were brought in an hour ago, right after dark.”

  “Did you send out a detachment?” Jesse asked.

  “Well, no, and here’s the puzzle: It seems that you were followed by a rather surly-looking guerilla band who routed that line of French skirmishers, and who informed me that the French have indeed joined forces, but declined any invitations to visit us here in Rodrigo. We are not disappointed.”

  “Ramos,” Jesse said, and she heard the wonder in his voice. “I rather thought he had discharged his obligation to us earlier. You would have thought I delivered twins, instead of just one rather irritated baby.”

  After asking directions to the morgue, they walked down the guildhall steps. The night air was brisk, but the wind blew from the south. “I think it will be warmer tomorrow, my dear Elinore,” Jesse said.

  She turned to exchange some equally idle pleasantry when a man wearing a cloak stepped from the shadow of the guildhall. She tightened her grip on Jesse, then relaxed when he patted her arm. I wonder if there will be a moment when I do not fear Major Bones again, she thought.

  “Senor Ramos,” Jesse said, and held out his hand. “We have you to thank for many things, I see.”

  Ramos removed his hat and bowed. “I am only sorry we did not arrive soon enough to save your brave soldiers.” He shook his head. “We lost your trail at the ford for a while.”

  “You have followed us all this way?” Elinore asked, amazed.

  “Just to keep an eye on you,” he admitted. “I could tell soon that you were in competent hands, senora. You have married quite a man.”

  “Who would have thought it?” Jesse said.

  Ramos chuckled. “Senor, you may ride with us any day.”

  “I look forward to the day when no one will ride as a guerilla,” Jesse replied.

  “A year or two? Who knows?” the guerilla said. He put his hat on his head again, and paused a moment before speaking. Even then he sounded uncertain. “Captain, my men are there by the gate. Can you see them?”

  “I believe so.” Jesse looked closer. “But you appear to have someone thrown down over a horse. Should I attend him?”

  “I think not. Do apologize to your General Picton for me, but I could not resist the opportunity to invite Major Bones to pay a return visit to Santos. There he was, strolling across the courtyard like he owned it. How could I resist? He was reluctant, but I didn’t take no for an answer.”

  Harper started to laugh. “God help us! I wish Wilkie were here for this.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jesse said.

  The guerilla shrugged. “Ours is a small village. When the alcalde’s family heard that we were going to keep a watch over you, they asked me to look for Major Bones. What do you know? I found him. Imagine that.”

  Elinore gripped Jesse’s hand harder. I should feel remorse for this, she thought. It seems so uncivilized. “What are you planning, sir?” she asked.

  “Nothing grandiose, senora. As you know, we are a poor village. We will just turn him loose in the plaza. That is all.” He bowed again. “Adios.”

  “Do give our regards to your lovely wife and daughter,” Jesse said.

  In silence, they watched the guerilla mount his horse and lead his small band from the gate of Ciudad Rodrigo. They looked at each other. Harper was the first to break the silence. “Do you think there will even be enough left for them to bury?”

  “I wouldn’t care to make a wager, Harry. May I call you that now? I rather think we should be on a first-name basis. Elinore? I’m sorry you had to hear all this.”

  “I should be shocked, shouldn’t I?” she replied slowly. “I wonder why this isn’t bothering me. When the major doesn’t show up for breakfast in the morning, questions will be asked.” She cleared her throat. “Do we…do we know anything?”

  “About what?” Harper asked, the picture of innocence.

  “My head aches,” Jesse said. “Elinore, my dear, you have been with Number Eight long enough to diagnose me. Do you think I am coming down with amnesia?”

  “What?” she asked. She looped her arms through each of theirs, and they walked slowly across the courtyard.

  May 7, 1813

  Dear Philippe,

  This will be a test of my Italian. I have not written the language in eight years. Perhaps one of us should learn the other’s language.

  How delighted and relieved we were to receive your letter yesterday dated February 13, and to learn that you were in Grenoble. Your letter came via a smuggler bringing champagne to one of my patients, a laird
who suffers spectacularly from gout.

  To answer your question, my practice thrives. Strange, but after years of hacking, sawing, and patching war wounds, I had no idea how much salt of magnesium to administer to relieve something as prosaic as constipation! I will say, if ever a war breaks out between Dundee and Perth, I am ready with an awesome selection of bone saws.

  Elinore is thriving. She has decided that she likes living in a real house. She planted flowers in all the window boxes, watered them faithfully, then burst into tears when everything sprouted. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me it was the first time she had ever stayed long enough in one place to see anything she planted bloom. What a dear heart she is. As you might expect, she is increasing. If it is a boy, he will be Bertram Philippe, dear friend.

  Harper exceeds my expectations as a driver. I pay him a generous wage, and I think he is not inclined to resume his former life of crime. It appears to be the farthest thing from his mind. He is courting the butcher’s daughter, and proving to be as shy as I was. He has a reputation of sorts, and it does me no harm when it comes time to collect fees from my patients. No one is ever in arrears.

  We all miss Wilkie. Elinore does have nightmares about her father and that last wild ride. I hold her until the sorrow passes.

  Not a day goes by that I do not review my cases and wonder if I could have done something different. I jump at loud noises, but so do Elinore and Harper.

  Do I miss Marching Hospital Number Eight? Sometimes. General Picton has promised to send me a dispatch when the army passes through Santos again. We can only pray that Dan O’Leary and the patients are well. We made a difference in Number Eight, but now I know the pleasure of riding home to a warm house. When I open the door, Elinore is there.

  I must close. The smuggler is ready to take this, the laird is complaining of his gout, and I strongly suspect twins at the solicitor’s. Do accept our love, and let us know how you are faring.

  Your obedient servant,