"I'll try. I really will try. But oh Will, how can I bear it if I lose him?"
"You won't. If any couple were meant to be together and happy, it's the two of you."
She sniffed. "I wish that were true."
He pulled away to look at her. "How can you ever doubt it?"
"Because he said he was in love with another woman, back in Ireland. Not me."
"Oh Viv, is that what you've been thinking all this time?"
She nodded miserably.
"Because it's not true. It's all been a muddle—"
A booted foot on the floor by the door caused them both to turn towards the portal.
For a moment Vevina's heart surged with joy. But no, it wasn't Stewart after all, but another of his subordinate officers, Captain Jon Fortescue.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you and your sister, Captain Joyce, Maa'am." The tall blond officer with brilliant blue eyes bowed to her. "But Wellington needs to see you urgently, Will."
Wilfred rose to join the other captain in the doorway.
"Just give me a moment, all right?"
Vevina noted with a pang that they might almost be brothers, were Will not so slightly built compared to his broad muscular colleague.
He nodded. "I understand." He cleared his throat and said to Vevina, "I'm sorry for your worries. But we'll find him, I swear. Even now Wellington is—"
"Er, yes, thanks, Jon, that's enough. Please wait outside."
He nodded again, bowed, turned on his heel smartly, and left.
"Wellington is what—"
"Getting the treasure your brought back from Grenoble out of safe-keeping to start organizing the ransom, and sending messages to Vincent Olivier and his brother to see if they can act as intermediary if need be."
Vevina slumped on the pillows, emotionally drained.
"Well, then, I can see everyone is doing all they can. Everyone but me."
He patted her shoulder. "You're praying and taking care of the children until he comes home. That is plenty. Besides, you know he would never forgive either of us if something happened to you. So rest, and sew, and I swear, as soon as any of us hear anything, you'll be the first to know."
"Thanks Will." She kissed him. "I can't thank you enough, me and the children."
Another commotion at the door interrupted his leave-taking.
"I say, Joyce, Wellington needs you at the double," Captain Black said breathlessly.
"I know, Fortescue told me."
"Aye, but right now," he said urgently. "We're exchanging the prisoners, and Wellington has got you a pass to help their wounded get back across their lines, and the chance to inspect our wounded, and bring back the ones well enough to be moved."
Will was on his feet at once. "Thanks, Terence, I owe you."
"Not at all. Sorry for your trouble, Ma'am, but if the Colonel is there and fit to be brought home, we'll have him back in a trice," the lanky black-haired officer promised with an encouraging smile.
"Thank you, Captain. I'll see you soon, Will?"
"Aye, Sister. The sooner I go, the sooner I'll be back. Kiss the children for me," he threw over his shoulder as he hurried out the door on his quest.
Vevina lapsed back onto the pillows once more with a sigh, and prayed that Captain Black's optimism proved not to be misplaced.
Chapter Forty-three
Vevina waited and worried for months at Salamanca over her beloved Stewart, but though there were several prisoner exchanges, and they offered a more and more generous ransom, there was no word of her husband's fate or whereabouts.
Wilfred pointed out that at least he hadn’t been reported dead, but Vevina took small comfort from his words. What on earth could have happened to the man who completed her in every way?
She felt as though a limb had been severed, she ached so much for his loving presence. Worse still, every day their son and daughter changed. Every day they were growing, and Stewart was missing all of their little milestones, first bath, first smile, first solid foods.
Vevina consoled herself with the knowledge that war was a confusing business, with poor lines of communication. If Stewart was still alive, he could be anywhere, and she knew she could do nothing but patiently wait.
The question, however, was where. The British army was moving ever forward, and she couldn’t stay at the college at Salamanca forever, though everyone had been very kind.
Wilfred finally persuaded her that Lisbon was her best choice, and Wellington, moving his Headquarters further north, was able to see her for a few moments.
“When you get to Lisbon, go see my friend the Marquess de Alba and his lovely wife Emma, an English woman, and very good fun. They are a bit of a fast set, but kind, generous, and very rich. I know you won’t wish to go home just yet, until we have news of Colonel Fitzgerald.”
“Have you heard anything, my Lord? It has been three months now.”
Wellington gazed at her oddly, and then said, “Don’t worry. If he were dead, I certainly would have heard by now. He was wounded, and probably needed time to recover. He’ll come back to you soon.”
"But the prisoner exchanges—"
"Salamanca was a very confusing battle. He'll turn up. I feel it in my bones."
He than handed her a bag of coins, and said, “This is just one part payment out of the treasure, and please, I insist you take it. You have a fine family, but four children require money, clothes, and winter is coming once more.”
“Thank you, my Lord, you are most kind. I don't want to be ungrateful, I just wish, well, I wish I had some news. And I wish this war were over,” she added with a sigh. "We've lost so much already—"
"Now, now, no brooding. This time last year, look where we were. In my wildest hopes, I could never have imagined we would be all the way to Salamanca by now. So yes, some sacrifices have had to be made, but they have been and will be worth it in the end, I promise."
Vevina paled. "You're not trying to tell me he's—"
"No, no! I give you my word, all will be well."
"But—"
He ignored her question, and just then, ADC Monroe entered.
"Your carriage, sir."
“Thank you. I'll be down presently."
Monroe waved at Vevina, and blew a kiss to each of the children from the doorway, then departed.
"Have a safe trip, Madame. I hope I shall see you some time in the future, though perhaps not in Lisbon. I have a feeling I’m going to be going northeast from now on.” Wellington gave a tight little smile, and kissed her hand.
“I hope you shall, and if you see Stewart, tell him...” she broke off, and coloured.
“I think he knows. Oh, and by the way, don’t think I don’t know what your new son is called, and I am grateful.”
“As are we, my Lord.”
“Arthur and Evelyn Fitzgerald. Fine names. Blessings on you all, my dear.”
Vevina curtsied.
He bowed over her hand, and departed.
She sighed, and turned back to her packing for her small family with a heavy heart.
Wilfred saw to all their travel arrangements for her trip to Lisbon, and went with them as far as Cuidad Roderigo, where he was again taking up command of the fort, with the help of Ensign, now Captain Parks, who had been wounded and commended for distinguished service at the last Salamanca campaign.
He sported his small facial scar on his cheek with a swagger, but he had become more subdued.
Vevina could see he would eventually make a fine officer under her brother’s guidance.
Captain Parks gave her the miniature he had sketched of Stewart from memory while he had been recuperating in the field hospital.
Vevina was very touched. “It’s an excellent likeness, even though you’ve done the whole thing from recollection rather than a sitting subject.”
“Glad you like it, Viv.” The young man beamed. “Let’s just hope you get the original back soon.”
As she took leave of them both at the small
fort, the site of her first battle, the place where she and Stewart had first fallen in love, she struggled hard to fight back the tears.
Wilfred said, “I took the liberty of sending for some things from home in Ireland. Even if the war were over tomorrow, it would take some time for us to be able to head back to Cork. So call into the shipping office in Lisbon once you find proper accommodation. I’ll look you up through headquarters, or via the Marquess’s house at some point if I am in Lisbon. If I receive any word from Stewart, I’ll send it post-haste by courier.”
“Thank you, Will, for everything. Maybe I’ll see you at Christmas?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world." He grinned. "Give the four monsters a kiss for me every night.”
"I will, and thank you again for everything."
"I have the feeling you'll thank me and the men more if we can find Stewart. I'm only sorry I'm stuck back in Cuidad Roderigo. But Black and Fortescue are pressing forward. They'll send word if they find out anything."
"I know. Everyone's been so kind. I just wish—"
He nodded. "I know."
"I mean, I'm sure he's alive. I'm certain I would feel his loss if he were dead. Do you know what I'm saying?"
"Aye. Believe me, he's alive. I feel sure of it too."
"Then where is he? Why haven't I heard—"
He gave her a kiss and lead her to the waiting carriage. "You know that no matter how much he loves you, duty comes first. Whatever it is that's stopping him from being with you, it has to be for the sake of the war effort."
She settled herself in the carriage seat, and nodded. "I know, but Will, sometimes it's damned cold comfort when I have to face an empty bed every night and no father for my children."
His brows knit. "I'm sorry it's turned out this way. But some sacrifices have had to be made. I just know they have been and will be worth it in the end."
She stared at her brother. "Wellington said the exact same thing before he left."
"Oh, er, did he?" Wilfred shrugged as though the matter were of no importance, but all the same, Vevina began to wonder…
But she had no chance to question her brother further, for Jeanne was fussing with the travelling rugs and Mitchell trying to hand Rosita one of the squalling babies for a feeding.
"Walk on!"
"No, Will, wait!"
"Take care, Sister, and I shall see you all soon."
She tried to get to the window, but it was already too late.
Wilfred was heading back through the gates with his usual long-legged stride.
She sat back against the squabs with a sign. She had no choice but to go on to Lisbon, for all had been arranged.
But she as she headed west, her mind was filled with nothing but longing for Stewart and a welter of unanswered questions.
Worse still, she now had a growing suspicion that Wellington knew all too well where Stewart was, but for some reason either wouldn't, or didn't dare tell her.
Chapter Forty-four
Vevina made the journey back to Lisbon in slow stages, always hoping that Stewart or news of him might be able to catch up with her.
But eventually she reached her destination without any news. There she was received graciously by the Marquess de Alba and his wife, a well-preserved woman of nearly forty, who studied her in great detail, with an almost pitying look, and then hugged her warmly. “Welcome to my house. You must be Vevina. Arthur has told me so much about you.”
The brisk little woman insisted Vevina call her Emma, and she talked a mile a minute, and asked a hundred questions. Vevina, exhausted, answered mostly in monosyllables, and was relieved to discover that Wellington had told only of her wishing to await news of her missing husband in Lisbon rather than back home in Ireland. She had dreaded the idea of people finding out about the treason trial or her exploits in France and Spain.
It was only later, in the privacy of her elegant room, where she was taking a much need bath, that Vevina realized Emma hadn’t once asked about her husband.
Perhaps she had been too polite to remind her of an unpleasant subject. All the same, Vevina felt a bit uneasy, and about a fortnight later, when Emma had seemed to avoid the subject of Stewart at every possible opportunity, she discovered why Emma had been so reticent.
Since it was now early December, Vevina and Emma had decided to begin their Christmas shopping.
Vevina had taken care of presents for all the children, but was still undecided as to what to get for Stewart.
Emma had smoothly changed the subject as she always did whenever Vevina expressed any wonder over where he could be. She said merrily, “You must buy yourself a present, my dear. I always do. Let’s go to that drapers’ shop I’ve told you so much about. You remember. The one with the exquisite Brussels lace, and magnificent brocades. I remember what the weather is like in Ireland, and the fashions, if you could call them that,” she laughed, making a small moue of distaste.
“You’ll be going back soon?” she asked, slightly too sharply. Vevina wondered if this was a hint that Emma’s hospitality was beginning to become forced.
“I’m sorry if we're in your way at the house,” Vevina replied with dignity. "You're right, it's about time we did start looking for an establishment of our own."
The older woman kissed her cheek warmly and said, “No, don’t be silly, that’s not what I mean at all. We love having you, and the children do so brighten up the house. I was just thinking how homesick you must be, after all your travels.”
Vevina nodded, but insisted, “I can’t possibly go home until I have some news of Stewart, one way or the other.”
Just as they entered the shop, Emma gasped, and declared somewhat too loudly, “I’m so thirsty. Let’s go to that coffee house on the corner, and then launch our campaign upon the lace.”
But it was too late. Vevina had already seen what her well-meaning friend had been trying to hide from her for weeks. She stood as though turned to stone.
Stewart was standing at the fabric table, resplendent in a fine dress uniform. He smiled as he held up the laces, and as the talk continued with a tiny delicate blond Venus by his side, Vevina realized the intimacy of the conversation.
“You know what a dreadful state my underclothes are in, and a woman can never have too many petticoats and chemises, and never too few nightgowns,” she said with a pert toss of her head.
Stewart stopped to murmur something in her ear which made he laugh all the more and gasp, “Darling, I just can’t wait to get you home.”
Vevina’s knees trembled, and her friend Emma tried to lead her away.
But Vevina felt rooted to the spot, and was past caring whether or not she made a scene, so furious was she that her trust in him had been so misplaced.
Suddenly Stewart looked up, and his eyes registered shock, and another inscrutable emotion.
Guilt? Fear? Anger?
Vevina couldn’t be sure, but she did know that he had a lot of explaining to do.
She felt as though she could scarcely breathe. She had waited months for any news, pining like a love-struck fool, and now to find him in Lisbon, acting like this strumpet’s lap dog, was too much to bear.
She saw him hasten over to her and kiss her hand. The pressure in his grip almost brutal.
“How lovely to see you, Vevina.” He smiled tightly, and then introduced her to the blond Venus as his brother Samuel’s wife.
Angry colour flooded her face, but the message in Stewart’s eyes was unmistakable. She could interpret it as plainly as if he had spoken aloud: "Don't give the game away."
So as much as she longed to give him the tongue-lashing he deserved, or to throw herself in his arms with sheer relief, instead, with a puzzled frown, she remained silent.
“I had heard you were coming to Lisbon, but had not expected to see you so soon. Are you staying with Emma while you’re here?” he asked politely.
Again, she could also hear the unspoken statement, “Is everything all right?”
<
br /> “Yes, Emma has been most kind since we all arrived from Salamanca. My brother Wilfred is back at Cuidad Roderigo, in charge of the garrison there, and the children are all well.”
“Well, I shall have to call upon you at same point soon, though for the moment my duties are very pressing. Your servant, Madame,” Stewart said, kissing her hand once again.
Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series) Page 35