Only a Hero Will Do

by Susan Lodge

  “Did he often hurt you?”

  “No, my mother kept us apart as much as possible. He didn’t much like having a sister.” Hetty smiled, becoming aware of his grave expression. “Goodness, what a morbid story. Let us talk of something else. Have you a family, Doctor? Did you have a sister to tease?”

  He stared at her in surprise, and she felt a quiver of excitement. He surely had to give her some clue of his personal circumstances in reply.

  “No, I had no sister, but my elder brother and I were close until he died when his ship went down last year.”

  “I’m sorry.” Hetty waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she prompted him again. “What about your parents?”

  “My mother died ten years ago. I have fond memories of her.” He smiled unexpectedly. “She had the most glorious golden hair.”

  “And your father?”

  “He died shortly before my mother.”

  The smile was gone, leaving a rawness in his face that warned her against questioning deeper. But after a pause, he continued.

  “My family home, which is badly in need of my attention, is in Wiltshire. I have started plans for renovations. It is where I will eventually settle down.”

  “Is there anyone waiting for you at home?” Hetty probed, a vision of a beautiful woman named Rose coming to mind.

  “No, I have no close family. Now, time for you to rest.”

  To Hetty’s dismay, he rose to leave. She had enjoyed the rare intimacy of their conversation and wanted to know more. No one waiting for him – perhaps Rose was just part of his past. She felt almost happy as she settled back on the pillows.

  He was no longer just the doctor. In her mind he began to take on an altogether different role, which involved a lot more hand holding.

  ***

  Hetty, now much recovered, was reading Gulliver’s Travels to a young wounded midshipman. The doctor had decided, after a lot of persuasion on her part, to let her help comfort the patients by reading to them. However, he had been careful to select the most trustworthy candidates, like the young lad with both of his arms bandaged.

  Hetty looked up from her reading and smiled at the boy. He had the most absurdly long eyelashes. As his eyes flickered shut and his breathing became steady, she closed the book. Doctor Withington had instructed her to stay until he escorted her to her next carefully selected patient. She sat back and listened to the sounds of the men scuttling around the deck above.

  Becoming restless after a few minutes, she ventured out of the partitioned area and surveyed the rows of patients swaying in their hammocks. So many injured men. Although she had been shielded from the war at home, she had still managed to read and keep up to date with Napoleon’s tirade. Now, all the maimed bodies brought the nature of war to her in all of its horrible clarity.

  As she turned to go back, voices caught her attention. One of them was Chalky White, the sail maker’s mate who had sewed her dress on the Resolve. He had sustained extensive injuries from the attack and was also on his way home.

  “I can’t make me wife’s letter out, even with me good eye,” Chalky moaned.

  “That’s ’cos you bloody well can’t read, and her writing ain’t too hot,” his companion replied.

  Hetty grinned despite the bad language, which she was fast becoming accustomed to hearing. She approached the two men.

  “May I read your letter to you, Mr. White? I am sure your wife’s news will cheer you.”

  Chalky gaped at Hetty in horror as she bent and retrieved the paper.

  “No, Miss Avebury. It’s all right, don’t trouble yourself.”

  “Nonsense, it will be my pleasure to assist you.”

  Hetty settled onto a stool, a little concerned that his face had taken on a strange pallor. She cleared her throat.

  “Dear Chalky, Your letter as usual hasn’t arrived as promised. There has been little merriment here since you went back to sea as you forgot to leave the rent.” Hetty gave him a disapproving frown before continuing. “The sooner you get back here, the better. And don’t forget to bring me a present because I have one for you.”

  Hetty smiled at the patient. “How exciting. You have a present awaiting your return.” She noticed Mr. White had heightened in colour and was looking at her very strangely.

  She continued. “Them games we played that night before you sailed weren’t worth getting a swollen belly for.”

  The spelling was very poor. Had she read it correctly?

  Hetty looked at Chalky, who had now sunk down in his bed, the blanket pulled up under his nose. “Are you quite all right, Mr. White?”

  A large hand appeared from over her shoulder and took the sheets from her fingers.

  “I think that is enough excitement for this patient, Miss Avebury. What do you think, White?”

  “Yes, Doctor! Me wife’s letters always tire me out.”

  Robert handed the letter back to its owner. “Miss Avebury, I rather think Lieutenant Richards is anxious to hear an article in the Gazette.”

  Strange letter, Hetty thought as she left with the doctor, a little surprised by his forcefulness as he guided her. Then again, his touch made her skin tingle quite delightfully.

  ***

  Thomas Brown’s eyes opened as he lay helpless. The words floated from across the deck, stirring his subconscious. He repeated the name in his head.

  Avebury. Someone had said Avebury.

  His body convulsed. Was the man here? Where was he? His eyes closed again as he sank back into the blackness. He had to survive. He needed to let them know about Avebury.

  Was he dying? Pain shot through his temples. Was he going to hell? If so, he would surely meet Avebury again.

  Chapter Ten

  By the end of the day, Hetty suspected she had unravelled the meaning of the letter, and she burned with embarrassment. She must appear to be the most mutton-headed individual. At least when she gambled, no one laughed at her. She commanded far more respect as a male, although life was far more hazardous. She glanced up, and her insides did a strange sort of jig as Doctor Withington approached.

  “Miss Avebury, I have just spoken to the captain. The wind has been in our favour. It seems we will arrive home at least a day before schedule.” He paused and studied her for a moment, as if he were struggling to find the right words. “As you know, I have orders to deliver you safely home. We need to talk about the future.”

  Hetty’s mood deteriorated at the thought of her reception. “I will have to marry Stark! That is my future if I go back. Everything and everyone seems to be set on it.”

  In the last few minutes, the doctor had slipped a little from hero status. He had saved her life as any hero would, but he wasn’t supposed to hand her back to the enemy.

  “Doctor, you met Stark, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, briefly.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And what is your opinion of the man?”

  “I only met him for a few minutes.”

  “And?” she prompted.

  “And I wanted to knock him down.”

  She giggled despite her mood and looked at him in mock horror, putting him back a notch closer to hero.

  Robert grinned. At that moment another barrier fell away and their friendship deepened.

  “However, I cannot judge the man after such a short acquaintance. Tell me, has he treated you badly?”

  “He ruined me,” Hetty said simply. “Isn’t that bad enough?”

  Robert’s grin vanished. “I am sorry. Did he force himself on you?”

  Hetty shivered at the anger that laced the question, but she realised it was for Stark, not her. He was not ready to condemn her like the rest of her family. She studied her fingers as if they had become items of compelling interest, and she told him about the incident in Lady Bertram’s rose garden.

  He was quiet for a long time afterwards, looking at her thoughtfully. “A deplorable incident, but these things die down after a while. If you truly do not feel you can mar
ry him, I am sure your father would consider another match for you. I take it you would like to be married?”

  Hetty considered his words. “If I am forced to marry, I would like a husband that I might grow to love or, at the very least, develop a fondness for.”

  “Ah, yes. Love, indeed.” He said it softly, as though he understood.

  Hetty wanted to reach out and hug him for not coming out with same old lecture about love having little to do with a successful marriage.

  “Have you ever been in love, Doctor?”

  Her question must have thrown him off guard, for she thought his eyes filled with tenderness for an instant. Did it have anything to do with memories of a woman called Rose?

  “Yes – yes, I have,” he replied.

  She waited for more. When it was obvious he wasn’t going to elaborate, her frustration caused her unguarded thoughts to tumble out.

  “Is Rose waiting for you back home?”

  As soon as the words left her lips she regretted them. His body tensed and his eyes narrowed. A second too late, she realised that she had made a mistake. He looked away and when his eyes returned, she was disturbed at the annoyance they held.

  “What do you know of Rose?” His voice was barely a whisper, but the pain in it was undeniable. Hetty wanted to take back whatever hurt she had caused.

  She braced herself. “I thought you had mentioned the name at some point.”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” She studied her fingers again, searching for inspiration.

  “I’m waiting,” he said softly.

  “Perhaps the captain or Lieutenant Haines mentioned it.”

  “No, Miss Avebury. They didn’t, as you well know.” He was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. Hetty began to turn an uncomfortable pink. Now she would have to admit to reading the letter.

  “The book you lent me. It had a letter tucked in the back.”

  Robert now joined Hetty in terms of colour. He cleared his throat. “I see. And you read it?”

  “Well, yes. Accidentally. And I replaced it as soon as I realised it was personal.”

  After an intolerably long pause, he said, “The letter was written by someone very dear to me. We were betrothed, but unfortunately, when my father lost our home and fortune at the gambling tables, her family no longer thought me a suitable match. I finished my medical studies, hoping to secure an income to support a wife, but her family married her off to Viscount Grayston.” He gave her a terse smile, which she knew signalled the end of the conversation. “Now I have no wish to discuss the matter further.” He hesitated before he rose to leave. “I have only shared this personal information, Miss Avebury, so you might understand why I react so angrily to your gambling.”

  Hetty watched him go, the revelations spinning in her mind. She could certainly understand. Poor man, to have lost everything. Trust her to be involved in an activity that he despised.

  Of course, she had guessed he was in love with the beautiful Rose. She had to be beautiful to evoke such a reaction from the man. Perfect, in fact – except she belonged to a viscount. He may not have recovered from the loss.

  For a man who otherwise seemed so sensible and solid, Hetty found that thought rather strange and quite irritating.

  ***

  Robert had reacted badly. He really couldn’t blame her for reading something he had left in a book he had given her. How could he have been so careless?

  He often read Rose’s letters on the long nights at sea. He had kept them all – the early ones where she had written with such happiness, and the few after his family ruin when she had promised to wait for him. Wait until he had qualified and was able to make a living to support them both. But, like Miss Avebury, she had been bundled into a respectable match – her father probably frightened that Robert would turn up and steal her away to Gretna to marry over the anvil. Everyone had known how devoted they were to each other.

  The family ruin had also cost him his mother. She had passed away from shame two months after his father’s suicide. He knew it was a ridiculous diagnosis but she had. And beneath the grief of their deaths, he had felt betrayed. He had always respected the man who had raised his sons under a strict but loving regime. Growing up, Robert had always believed him a good father and found it disturbing to think otherwise, so he had tried not to think of him at all since his death.

  The visit to Longwood last month had changed things. His attempt to reclaim his home had forced him to face the past and try to come to terms with it.

  Rose’s father, Sir Phillip Denby, owned the lands adjacent to Longwood and had acquired a large area of his father’s old estate. Denby had purchased them to help settle the debts that Robert and his brother had faced.

  Robert had written to Denby several weeks earlier and told him of the precise land he now wished to reclaim. It was satisfying that he was now in a position to offer a price which was more than fair for the lands that his father had lost.

  He could never treat Denby as a friend because he had married Rose off to another man. But he could respect him as a business associate.

  ***

  They sailed into Portsmouth harbour, and Hetty’s heart felt like lead. She was hard pressed to overcome the tears. She had almost been content during her journey on the hospital ship.

  The doctor had treated her with great kindness during her recovery. She knew that was all he felt for her, after their conversation about Rose. But that was his role, caring for the sick. She wasn’t special in any way. The only special woman in Doctor Withington’s mind was Rose, and probably always would be.

  He joined Hetty in the gun room in response to her request, and she watched him as he sat down opposite her. He was frowning again, but she had learned over the last few weeks that his frown was not always a bad signal. Today she interpreted it as concern more than disapproval.

  She wanted to clear up any awkwardness between them after the business with the letter. This might well be their last day together, and she would thank him for all he had done. She glanced up as Lieutenant Haines, at the far corner of the room, closed his book and left. She welcomed the privacy, inappropriate as it was.

  “I want to apologise for reading your letter. I am afraid I have a terribly inquisitive streak. My father has often told me that I exercise my brain far too much, and in a woman it is unattractive and uncalled for.”

  He gave her one of those rare smiles. “I am afraid I have to disagree with your father. Your intelligence, Miss Avebury, is very attractive. I have never had such a challenging chess partner.” His smile faded but his green eyes searched her soul, conveying something far deeper than the light banter suggested.

  She felt tongue-tied. This was becoming far more difficult then she had imagined.

  “I shall miss you,” she managed, finally.

  She looked down at her hands and tried to compose her features to avoid the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. She knew he studied her, but she dared not look back into those eyes.

  “Is there anything I can get for you?” he asked softly.

  “I do not think you are able to prescribe me courage.”

  “No. And one thing you do not lack, Miss Avebury, is courage.”

  She jumped as his warm, solid hand covered hers. He squeezed her fingers lightly as if to transfer his strength. It felt wonderful, and a few tears escaped.

  His hand shifted and she thought he would leave, but he knelt by her side and folded his arms around her, as if it was as natural a treatment as administering a potion. She rested her head, cautiously at first, then slowly relaxed against the warmth of his chest.

  Hetty felt no desire to withdraw from the comfort of his embrace. Hearing his heartbeat felt so deliciously strange, and what she was doing was devilishly risqué, even with a physician. Without raising her eyes, she knew he looked down at her.

  What was he thinking? Did he feel that warm honey feeling that flowed through her when he was with her? Of course not. He
was only a physician. Annoyed with herself, she started to move away.

  His arms tightened and guided her back to him.

  “Just a little longer, Miss Avebury. This treatment cannot be rushed.”

  Hetty’s annoyance melted, and she smiled as she relaxed back against him, making the most of their precious last moments alone.

  ***

  Robert reluctantly left Hetty and returned to his duties.

  He had never hugged a patient before, but she had looked so vulnerable and sad that he could not stop himself. It was totally unprofessional, and he was now ashamed, concerned, and extremely confused.

  The woman had been placed in his safekeeping. What did he think he was doing? The poor girl must be bewildered, although she had seemed to like the embrace.

  He ran a hand through his hair. Yes, a paternal or professional concern. That was how she would take it.

  He would not relinquish her to Stark, but he had to proceed carefully. Stark was powerful and had the blessing of her father. He would somehow convince Henry Avebury that Stark was a terrible match for his daughter. One thing was certain, Miss Avebury needed him at the moment, and he was beginning to quite like that fact.

  ***

  Hetty’s hands began to shake as she forced her curls into some form of neatness and prepared to leave the safety of the hospital ship.

  She was grateful to the doctor, but in her heart she knew he had little chance of convincing her father to change his mind. So she planned to slip away as soon as they docked and try to secure a berth to the Isle of Wight, as was her original plan.

  She would leave a note exonerating Doctor Withington, which he could show to the captain, her father, and anyone else that wanted to see it. She was planning how to escape the ship while Robert was busy overseeing the transfer of his patients ashore, when she heard raised voices above.

  One of the voices made her tremble. There were sounds of a scuffle, then the thud of boots. The last remnants of her safety faded away, and she prepared to meet Stark’s fury.