Princess in Love

by Julianne MacLean

  Being the noble princess that she was, she respected his wishes and did not argue the point or press him to admit more of his feelings. For that he was grateful.

  “Well,” she said, quickly wiping at a tear that spilled from her eye. “You were a hero today from any and all perspectives. I suspect you will be awarded more medals of honor from Petersbourg, as well as Austria. My new home country thanks you.”

  He didn’t want medals. He had enough of those. All he wanted was Rose, but it was long past time for him to accept that it was not to be.

  “No thanks are necessary,” he replied. “As I said before, it is what any soldier would have done.”

  She accepted his words without argument this time and regarded him with a weary sorrow that made him wish he could stand up, circle around this bed, and take her into his arms.

  If he could have done just that, he would have never asked for anything else as long as he lived. But he resisted the urge and remained in his seat.

  * * *

  The night was not an easy one. Rose sat devotedly at her husband’s side, and for many hours he did not move. As a result, she grew increasingly fretful, for it seemed a very deep sleep, a state too close to death. Often she touched his cheek to ensure he was still warm, or she placed her fingers under his nose to feel the soft beat of his breath.

  Joseph fought his own private battle through the night, and she assisted the only way she could—by kneeling on the floor beside the bed and praying for his life to be spared.

  And Leopold. Dear, wonderful Leopold. He, too, remained at Joseph’s side and watched over him whenever Rose needed to rest her eyes. When she grew frantic, fearing that a fever had set in, Leopold was there, laying the back of his hand on Joseph’s forehead and ensuring her that all was well.

  When at last the morning light found its way into the room, and the fire was nothing but a dry pile of ash and embers, Joseph stirred.

  “Rose?” he whispered.

  She woke from an uncomfortable slumber in the chair, sat forward and clasped his hand. “I am here, darling. I’ve been here all night.”

  He turned his head on the pillow to look at her. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with pain and confusion. “My leg hurts,” he said. “I cannot move it.”

  Rose glanced across at Leopold, who quickly stood. “I will fetch the doctor.”

  He left them alone. Rose had maintained her composure all night long, but she could no longer suppress her feelings. She broke down and wept over Joseph’s arm. “Thank God you have come back to us. I was so worried.”

  “My love,” he whispered as he cupped her cheek in a hand and waited for her to collect herself. “Nothing could keep me from you, not even a bullet from Boney’s infamous Imperial Guard. It was pure dumb luck they hit me, you know. They were probably aiming at the Prussians but found themselves shooting in the wrong direction.”

  Suddenly Rose was laughing, then weeping the most wonderful tears of joy. Joseph was alive. All her prayers had been answered.

  Well, perhaps not all of them, for she had been forced to sacrifice something else. Sometimes she wished she could live two parallel lives. But this would be enough.

  It would have to be.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. “Come in!”

  Rose was relieved to see Leopold, but her belly turned over at the sight of the doctor who entered behind him, for he wore a blood-soaked apron and carried a leather case that clanked with steel instruments inside when he set it down on the table.

  “This is Dr. Harris,” Leopold said.

  “I am told the patient has regained consciousness. That is wonderful news.” The doctor bowed. “Your Royal Highness, I am honored to serve you. Now let us have a look, shall we?”

  Rose backed away to give the doctor room to examine Joseph. He began by listening to his heart and consulting his pocket watch to time the pulse beats.

  He lifted Joseph’s eyelids to examine his pupils and asked a number of questions about how he was feeling, then removed the bandage at his shoulder to assess the bullet wound.

  “Everything looks fine here,” he said. “You were very lucky, sir. Inches to the left and … Well, let us simply say that your star was shining yesterday.”

  He replaced the bandage with a fresh one.

  “Now let us have a look at that break.” He tossed the covers aside.

  Rose looked warily upon her husband’s broken leg, which was wrapped in a bloodied bandage and held in place by a splint.

  Carefully, the doctor removed the bandage to examine the area where the bone had cut through the skin. Upon looking at it, he promised Joseph laudanum to numb the pain for as long as he needed it.

  Joseph tried to sit up, but he couldn’t rise on his injured shoulder. Rose quickly moved around the bed to fetch an extra pillow, which she placed under his head.

  All the while, Leopold remained a silent observer. He had sat down in a chair by the window on the opposite side of the room and was watching vigilantly.

  Rose knew him too well. There was a hint of displeasure in his expression. Something was wrong. She could sense it.

  He met her gaze just then, and she felt her eyebrows pull together as she frowned. What is it? she wanted to ask, but the doctor interrupted her thoughts by saying, “Tsk-tsk-tsk. That leg should have come off.”

  Rose shot him a horrified look. How could he say such a thing in front of Joseph, who had just woken up and needed encouragement, not this sudden reproachful diagnosis without at least saying something to prepare him if the news was grave.

  “Doctor,” she snapped. “You have barely looked at it. My understanding is that it was set in place last night and had a good chance of healing. Isn’t that right, General Hunt?”

  Leopold stood up. “Yes, the princess is correct. You should speak to Dr. Samson.”

  The doctor scoffed arrogantly. “Samson? He is a mere pup. He knows next to nothing about military medicine, while I’ve been serving this campaign for fifteen years. He was no doubt frazzled during the procedure and couldn’t bring himself to confess the truth.”

  Leopold glanced down at Joseph briefly, then addressed the doctor again. “With all due respect, sir, Dr. Samson was not frazzled. I assisted him myself in removing the bullet from His Highness’s shoulder. Samson was highly skilled, and I would have him back now if it can be arranged.”

  Rose felt suddenly caught in an angry crossfire. Leopold and the doctor were facing each other squarely, while Joseph could do nothing but watch and listen with dire concern.

  “It certainly cannot be arranged,” Dr. Harris replied. “Samson has gone to Brussels to tend to the wounded there, while I have been assigned to the wounded here. The archduke is now my responsibility, General, and I will not permit that wound to fester and kill the heir to the throne of Austria.”

  “It’s not festering,” Leopold stated plainly. “It is just badly bruised.”

  “How would you know anything about it? You are a soldier, not a surgeon.”

  “I’ve seen my share of festering wounds, sir, and this wound is not among them.”

  Joseph tried again to sit up. “Are you sure, General Hunt? Clearly my leg will be of little use to me regardless. Perhaps it’s not worth the risk.”

  Leopold spoke firmly. “Your leg is fine, Your Highness, and you will walk again.”

  Rose didn’t know what to think. She trusted Leopold with all her heart, but this doctor claimed to have fifteen years’ experience in military medicine. What if he was right? Perhaps it wasn’t worth the risk. Either way, Joseph would need a cane to walk …

  “We disagree, General,” the doctor said, “and it is not up to you, is it? The decision lies with the archduke and his wife.”

  He looked to them for a final verdict.

  Leopold said nothing. He simply waited.

  With as calm a demeanor as possible, Rose approached the bed to look more closely at the wound. She was not an
expert in medicine, but it looked quite ghastly. Whether or not it was infected, she had no clue. Bruised, yes, definitely, and terribly swollen, but did that mean his life was at risk?

  “I don’t know, Joseph,” she whispered. “I am not qualified to make such a decision, but I do not like risks.”

  “Nor do I,” he replied. “And as I said before, my leg will be of little use to me. Perhaps the doctor is right.”

  “Of course I am right,” Harris said haughtily. “I know a thing or two. Now if you will give me your permission, sir, I will send for a nurse and begin right away. There is no time to lose.”

  The sound of a pistol hammer cocking caused them all to look toward the window, where Leopold stood aiming his weapon at the doctor’s face. “There will be no such surgeries in this room today, Dr. Harris. I suggest you leave now.”

  The doctor gasped. “You mean to threaten me, General?”

  “Is it not clear that I am already doing so?”

  Rose stood frozen in shock while Leopold held the gun steady.

  “If that wound festers,” the doctor warned, “it will be on your head, General. Not mine.”

  “If it festers, we will consider surgery at that time,” Leo replied. “Until then, we will follow Dr. Samson’s orders and the archduke will keep his leg.”

  The doctor turned to Joseph. “And you, sir? What do you say?”

  Joseph—who was clearly in excruciating pain at the present moment—spoke through gritted teeth. “I must agree with General Hunt. Let us wait and see. Now please put a fresh bandage on this wound and return in twelve hours to assess it again.”

  The doctor reluctantly obeyed and set to work, while Joseph clenched his jaw in a valiant effort to withstand the pain.

  When the doctor finished and was packing up his supplies, Rose disliked the fact that she had to remind him of what he had promised earlier.

  “The laudanum now, Doctor, if you please.”

  He let out a huff as if it were a great inconvenience to open up his bag again. He withdrew a small bottle and handed it to her, explained the dosage, bowed to them, then turned and left the room.

  Rose followed him out into the corridor and closed the door behind her. “Dr. Harris, please wait.” He paused. “I trust you will not reveal to anyone what just occurred. You were not threatened with a pistol. If you suggest such a thing to anyone, both the archduke and I will deny it. Do you understand?”

  He stared at her for a blistering second, then bowed again. “Yes, madam.”

  When she returned to the bedchamber a moment later, she found Leopold, unaware of her presence, helping Joseph to sit up and take the laudanum. After administering the dosage, he gently set her husband’s weary head down on the pillow and inserted the cork back into the small bottle.

  “There now,” he softly said. “That should ease some of the pain, Your Highness.” Only then did he turn and acknowledge Rose in the open doorway.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I am quite sure you are right about Joseph’s leg, and the doctor was wrong.”

  Joseph reached out and clasped Leopold’s forearm. “Yes, thank you. I don’t think I could have borne an amputation at the present moment. Not quite at my best, you know?”

  Leopold regarded him with understanding. “A day or two will make all the difference.”

  Joseph closed his eyes and fell back to sleep, leaving Rose alone with Leopold.

  Heaven help her, there was so much to say.

  Chapter Thirty

  “You shouldn’t have drawn your pistol,” Rose whispered to Leopold as they stood at the open window. “You may be a general who just saved the life of a very important man, but you are also a convicted criminal on parole. I do not wish to see you get into any more trouble.”

  He chuckled. “How much more trouble can I possibly get into, Rose? I am already sentenced to twenty years in prison. Honestly, I didn’t think I had much to lose. Your husband on the other hand…”

  “That is very self-sacrificing,” she said.

  “Call it what you want. It matters not. I simply couldn’t allow that quack doctor to take your husband’s leg.”

  She breathed deeply the cool, fresh air blowing in through the window. “Are you certain about everything? You truly believe it is just bruised?”

  “I am positive,” he said, “and there is no doubt in my mind that it would do more harm than good to remove the leg. Joseph said himself that he is very weak. He would be at an even greater risk of infection if the doctor took such measures.”

  “I hope you are right,” she said.

  “I hope so, too,” he replied, “because certain people might accuse me of murder if things take an unfortunate turn. It wouldn’t be difficult to prove a motive.”

  He was joking of course, and she took it as such, then found herself resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Oh, Leopold. I am so glad you are here. What would I have done without you?”

  He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, but gave no reply.

  * * *

  Later that morning, when Joseph woke again and seemed to be feeling better, Leopold left him and Rose alone and did not return for several hours. When at last he knocked on the door, it was nearing twilight. Rose stood quickly from her chair.

  “Where were you?” she asked as she invited him in to see her husband sitting up in bed and taking some broth and tea.

  Joseph seemed pleased to see him as well. “General Hunt, have you eaten?”

  Leopold entered the room and removed his hat. “Not yet, Your Highness, but I have come with a visitor. I rode to Brussels today to bring back Dr. Samson, who treated you last night.”

  Joseph set down his spoon with a clunk. “My word, you don’t say. And what have you done with Dr. Harris? I hesitate to ask.”

  Rose laughed, while Leopold looked down and turned his hat over in his hands. “I apologize for my conduct earlier. Lack of sleep makes me irritable.”

  “Thank heavens for that,” Joseph replied good-naturedly. “I am more than certain that you saved me from a horrendous ordeal.”

  “Let us hope so. Now, if you would permit Dr. Samson to examine you, he will give us a better idea of the state of things. He is a brilliant surgeon, and I trust his opinion.”

  “If you trust him, then I trust him as well,” Joseph said. “Where is he? Bring him in.”

  Leopold turned to go and fetch him.

  Rose stopped Leopold at the door. “What about Dr. Harris?” she asked. “Where is he? I hope they are not clashing swords in the taproom.”

  Leopold turned back and gave her a dazzling smile. “Now that I would like to see. I regret to say, however, that Dr. Harris was called away rather suddenly. There was a request for his services in Ligny.”

  “And whose request was it?” Joseph inquired with a chuckle. “Yours, I presume?”

  Leopold shrugged innocently and went to fetch the doctor.

  A quarter of an hour later, Dr. Samson was rewrapping Joseph’s leg. “The wound looks excellent,” he said. “I am very pleased, and I see you are taking some broth. That is excellent as well.” He glanced at Rose. “Many victories in Belgium recently, Your Highness. Have you all heard the latest news about Napoleon? He dashed off the field so fast yesterday, someone said they saw sparks beneath the carriage wheels.”

  Joseph laughed, but winced in pain. Rose rushed to his side. “No laughing for you, dear. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “At least I will do so on two legs instead of one,” he replied.

  She laughed and kissed him on the forehead, then glanced at Leopold and smiled.

  * * *

  Rose’s smile left Leopold spellbound. Seconds later he was heartsick, for he knew he must leave her soon, when all he wanted to do was stay with her forever.

  Dr. Samson packed up his instruments and promised to check back later that night. As soon as he was gone, Leopold cleared his throat and forced himself to begin the difficult process of saying good-
bye.

  “Clearly you are in good hands now,” he said.

  The color drained from Rose’s face. She regarded him unhappily. “You are leaving us?”

  She spoke in a tone that suggested he was betraying her all over again, but it was quite the opposite. It would be wrong for him to stay and dream of things that could never be. To the contrary, it would be best to put some distance between them—and quite a substantial amount of it. Surely she understood that.

  Why, then, did he feel an overwhelming compulsion to close the distance between them now and pull her into his arms and kiss her passionately with every spark of fire left in his soul?

  For a few pounding heartbeats it felt as if Joseph had simply vanished into thin air and it was just the two of them alone … as lovers, as they had once been.

  God, how he wanted her. This was agony—heart-wrenching, merciless agony.

  Joseph spoke up in that moment. The sound of his voice was like a glass of water in Leo’s face.

  “I am sure General Hunt has more important things to do than watch over a wounded man,” he said. “The battle is over now. You have a proud army to lead back to Petersbourg, I can well imagine.”

  “Indeed I do.” Leopold was surprisingly thankful for Joseph’s casual remark to bring him back from the brink.

  Rose was not quite so casual, however, at least not in Leo’s eyes, for he could see she did not want him to go.

  Part of him reveled in the evidence of her lingering affection, while another part of him wished she would treat him with indifference or even disdain. That would make all of this so much easier to bear.

  “I see,” she said. “You have been so helpful. We will never forget what you did for us. You saved Joseph’s life.”

  The archduke clasped Rose’s hand and squeezed it. “We both thank you, General, from the bottom of our hearts. I give you my word that I will make sure your heroic efforts are recognized. Perhaps there is something I could do to influence your sentencing in Petersbourg. Honestly, sir, I owe you my life.”

  Leopold regarded them as they sat close together, then quickly dropped his gaze to his hat, which he held in his hands. “Thank you, but I require nothing in return. I am pleased you are well.” He swallowed with some difficulty, then bowed to them. “I shall bid you farewell and say a prayer that none of us have to fight Bonaparte ever again.”