How would she ever find him?
Fruitless attempts to obtain information regarding David or Jessica’s whereabouts from London, even with Madame’s brother-in-law’s contacts, proved the incomprehensible truth. She had to wait.
Like countless other wives with returned letters, she had to wait for the yawning unknown.
And she wouldn’t risk the baby’s welfare, though if she’d been on her own, she might very well have tried. It was a lonely and sobering endeavor to purchase a return ticket to Ednesbury with no more news than she had before.
“Help.” A woman’s piercing cry echoed down the platform line. “Is there a doctor? This man. He’s bleeding.”
Catherine turned in the direction of the cry, pushing the people aside.
“I’m a doctor.” An older gentleman emerged from the crowd, his dusty gold hair sprinkled with gray. He leaned over a young man in uniform, an amputee.
“He fell from the train steps.” The woman continued. “I saw him. Went limp as a fish.”
Blood gushed from his fresh amputation and another small puddle formed at his head. Catherine moved close. “I can help you.”
The man examined her with shrewd emerald eyes, a kinship in his look. “Very good.” He looked passed her shoulder. “Steward, where can we see to this man?”
The steward took them to a small room inside the station. Barking orders and using what supplies he housed in his black bag, together, they managed to stop the man’s bleeding.
“You are very good with sutures,” her murmured as she worked.
She shot him a grin. “I’ve been told that before.”
Her response encouraged a return smile. The first one she’d seen, and somehow, it reminded her of David. Her heart squeezed in revulsion at the terrifying unknown.
They stabilized the poor man and sent him off with medics to the local hospital.
“It was a good thing we were nearby, or I fear the lad would have bled out. Thank you for your help.”
“We all must pitch in where we can.” Catherine held out her hand. “I’m glad you happened to be in the vicinity to save his life. I suppose you were catching a north bound train as well?”
“You’re not from London?” He scanned her body, his brow peaked. “I assumed in your condition, you’d stay close to home.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Sensible women would follow that rule, but I have a tendency to dance between sensible and irrational. In this case, I was determined to travel all the way to France and find my husband. He’s gone missing.”
“I’m truly sorry.”
“At least I stopped before I made it to Southampton, yes?”
“So you come all this way with a plan to find, and possibly rescue, your husband?” His grin inched wider. “You’re either fiercely loyal or stark, raving mad.”
“I find the line indiscriminate at times, I’m afraid.”
His eyes lit with a humor she somehow recognized. “But with the best intentions, I can tell.”
“Most of the time, I hope.”
A smile of admiration teased the corners of his blond and gray mustache. “What man could manage such passion? You could keep him alive by sheer will with the amount of determination you have in your bones. He wouldn’t dare die.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The doctor shook his head and laughed, offering his hand in introduction. “Dr. Ross, a pleasure to—”
“Dr. Alexander Ross?”
He inclined his head. “Yes?”
Catherine grappled for her next breath. “I should’ve known. You look just like him. He looks just like you.”
The doctor’s face paled, his eyes searching her face with an intensity that definitely reminded her of David. “Catherine Dougall?”
His outstretched hand paused in mid-air. A wrinkle of fear crept into her throat, and her body braced for his rejection or disdain. Instead, the man took her hand with both of his and leaned down to kiss it.
His spreading smile exploded into laughter. “I knew the woman of whom my son wrote with such admiration had to be spectacular, but I wasn’t quite prepared for how very far your influence reaches, Miss Dougall…or I should say, Mrs. Ross?”
“What do you mean?”
His eyes took on a hint of mischief. Would David age with such ravishing good looks intact?
“I am on my way to Ednesbury. It’s taken all these months for an important letter to finally reach me at the Front.” He looked down the row of cars and back to her. “And now, to find you here? In an attempt to—” All humor left his face. “David is missing.”
“I don’t know.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and moved her toward the train. “I want you to tell me everything, and along the way, I’ll tell you how your connection with Lady Hollingsworth brought about the restoration of my inheritance.”
“What?”
“In fact, you’ve made me an earl, my dear.” His gaze grew intense. “And as an earl, I may have some power to discover where our boy is.”
Catherine stared at him, numb. How could she have had anything to do with the elder Lord Cavanaugh and his choices? As they found their seats on the train, Dr. Ross began to abate Catherine’s curiosity with an explanation.
“Lady Hollingsworth is a close friend to the elder Lady Cavanaugh, my grandmother. Due to her correspondence with you, she encouraged my grandparents to reconsider my disinheritance based on all the honorable choices I and my son have made for the country and well-being of Ednesbury. This conversation continued over months, at which time little discoveries began to show Jeffrey’s wife’s poor use of funds and the awareness that Drew is not a legitimate heir.”
“What?”
“I mean to say, the lady of Ednesbury court’s only son, the one who should have received the Cavanaugh entail, was not legitimate. He was conceived out of spite when the lady learned of her husband’s affair with…” He bowed his head in apology. “With your grandmother.”
“I know of it.” Catherine said. “But not of Lady Cavanaugh’s indiscretion.”
“It seems very few knew of it, except those closest to Jeffrey and your grandmother. Lord and Lady Hollingsworth happened to be some of those.”
“And now…now you’re to inherit?” Catherine blinked, too stunned to fully comprehend it.
“Yes.” His voice grave. “But I would give it all back if it meant ensuring my son’s safety.”
“Of course, Dr. Ross.”
“Call me Alexander.” He smiled softly. “After all, we’re family, and we’ll find him together, whatever it takes.”
The car drew up to Beacon House amidst chaos. Two servants stood outside, talking together. Mr. Palmer addressed a stranger at the door, and Mrs. Bradford rushed out to meet her as soon as she exited the car.
“Mrs. Ross. It’s a miracle you’ve turned back from your plan. I prayed you would, and just in time too.” Her smile brimmed, which was quite an unfamiliar sight. “He’s here.”
“Who’s here, and what is all this?” Catherine waved toward the stranger.
“It’s the car that brought Dr. Ross and Nurse Ross back from the station.”
Catherine froze, exchanged a look with Alexander, and took off as fast as her cumbersome body would allow. Alexander followed close behind.
A commotion sounded up ahead, loud voices bouncing off the high walls.
“He’s disappeared again? I took my eyes off of him for one second and he’s gone.” Jessica marched into the entry, barking commands to the nurses behind her. “We have to find him before he takes on a flight of stairs and does more damage to himself than what’s already been done.”
“What’s already been done?” Catherine repeated.
Jessica looked toward the door. “Catherine?” Her face paled, and the message in her eyes brought a chill.
“Jessica.”
Jessica’s gaze readjusted and her mouth dropped wide. “Father?” She ran to him, grasping him close
. “You’re here?”
Catherine didn’t wait for answers. She charged down the hallway, scanning every room as she went. He was here? She didn’t care if he came without a limb or with a broken bone. He was home.
She found him, staring off the terrace into the back garden. Except for a bandaged head and hand, he looked fine. Wonderful, in fact. She heaved a sob and ran toward him.
“David? Oh, David. I’m so happy to see you.”
His smile welcomed her, gaze roaming over her face. “Hello.”
She flung herself into his arms, holding onto him with every ounce of longing the past months of separation had ignited. His arms tightened around her, hands moving slowly up her back to tangle in her hair.
“This is by far the best greeting I’ve received since arriving here.”
She laughed and looked up at him. Without any preparation, he took her lips with his, hard and passionately. The force and intimacy of the embrace shook her with its odd unfamiliarity. For a moment, she was overcome by the scent and touch of him, grateful she held him, alive and whole, but then his palms descended down her back to her hips…in public.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought it fairly obvious, dear.” His lips left her mouth to trail down her neck. “You smell of lavender? I love lavender.”
Something felt wrong, changed, but what? Hadn’t she dreamed of his kisses? She pushed at his chest. “David!”
Her use of his name jarred him, and he released her, hands shaking in a strange sort of tremor. He stepped back, eyes wide and horrified, a haze seeming to clear from his vision. “I…I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
Catherine fought for words amidst her breathlessness but found none.
“I…I’ve never done anything like that in my life. I don’t know what came over me. Please, I beg you. Forgive me.”
Catherine placed a palm to her chest, the rapid rise and fall slowing, the fog of confusion filtering through the residual fog of his kisses. “Yes, of…of course.”
“I’ve sustained a head injury, and sometimes, regular inhibitions are no longer under my control.” He met her gaze, his pleading and distant. “Complications from mild injuries are usually temporary. I should be somewhat corrected over time, as my brain heals, but…” He covered his mouth with his palm and lowered his face. “I’m so sorry.”
“Please.” Catherine stepped forward and touched his shoulder.
He flinched back, his regret paling his face. He grasped at the stone terrace railing, shaking his head.
“Oh, David, no harm done. I’m fine and so happy to have you home.”
“I assure you, I’ve never behaved in such a deplorable manner.” The regret on his face brought her a step closer. He backed away. “It’s only, I felt I knew you in a special way…something I can’t explain. I’ve never done anything remotely similar with any of the other nurses.”
“Knew me?” Catherine paused, hand in the air to touch his arm. “Other nurses?” A sudden weakness nearly took her to her knees. She steadied herself against the terrace railing, air closing off in her throat.
His unknowing gaze probed hers, searching for answers. “Who are you?”
“David, there you are.” Jessica emerged through the doorway, noticing Catherine as she entered, and her countenance dawned with awareness and apology.
“Jessica!” David’s voice wrung with relief. He walked toward his sister, pausing in front of Catherine as he passed, his probing gaze wandering over her features. “Catherine? Is that it?”
“Yes.” It was the only reply she could squeeze through her tightening throat.
He stared at her a moment longer, all tenderness, all love, gone from that familiar face. “Forgive me, Catherine.”
Footsteps disappeared into the house and then a sob from the depths of her soul shook her entire body. She tried to hold back as many of the tears as she could, determined to be strong, to try and understand, but they overflowed. Breaking her. She had no words. No prayer. Nothing except the empty, gnawing realization she’d lost the most beautiful love she’d ever known.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Catherine stared out the window of Beacon’s dining room, pen in hand to make her meal order for the week, but she couldn’t focus. Not since last evening’s revelation. How could God do this to her? Give her a taste of such beauty and love and then rip it away?
“He’s in good health. That should help.”
Jessica’s voice pulled Catherine from the monotonous view of a steady rain.
“And he’s young, with a strong mind.” A frown pinched her brow into wrinkles. “Both hopeful.”
“What happened?” Catherine whispered.
“We were captured by a German spy, a doctor we met when we arrived.” Jessica ran a hand over her face and sighed, her expression raw. “He forced us to work for him, his wounded, but after a few weeks, the battle became too much and half of his unit retreated. We heard the French were nearby, in the woods, so we tried to make an escape.”
Jessica’s usual strength and confidence fell under the shadow of her memories and her tragedy. Catherine ached for her, for David. What a horror!
“David wasn’t well before our escape. Provisions ran low and he didn’t eat…didn’t drink like he should have.” She shook her head and wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “He kept offering part of his rations. I didn’t know they were his at the time.”
Catherine stepped forward, drawn in by the agony on Jessica’s face. She placed her hand on Jessica’s shoulder, and the woman looked up.
“Cramer caught us…the spy.” Jessica hurried on, new tears following paths of the old ones. “One of his men and David got into a row. David fought them to protect me and…and he managed to get one man down.” Her teary green eyes met Catherine’s. “But Cramer came from behind and…slammed his rifle into David’s head, knocking him to the ground.”
Catherine winced at the image. “How…how did you manage to get away?”
“I grabbed the downed man’s pistol.” Her eyes glassed, emotionless. “And I shot Cramer. Three times.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Catherine pulled Jessica into an embrace. The weeping woman buried her face into Catherine’s shoulder, shaking and sobbing, heartbroken and scared.
As the tears subsided, Jessica stepped back and took Catherine’s offered handkerchief. “Thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes, shaking her head. “We have so much to do.”
“We? I can help?”
She sniffed. “This is beyond my knowledge.” A vulnerability softened Jessica’s features even more. “I need all the help I can get with the hope he’ll regain his memories.”
Catherine’s voice trembled, the question hovering. “What memories has he lost?”
“Mostly the past year. He’s regained some, but there’s no way to know what will trigger a memory or what the memory might be. Those closest to his injury are likely hardest to recover.”
Catherine fisted her fear with determination. “What must I do?”
“I don’t know for certain. Head injuries are unpredictable.” Jessica touched her arm. “He’s fragile right now, and I’m afraid to force too much at once. Perhaps…perhaps it would be wise to refrain from telling him —”
“I’m his wife?” She closed her eyes against another stab.
“Only until we have a better idea of his healing. As he becomes stronger, he can handle more.”
She hardened against the tears. “If it will help him, I’ll do whatever you ask.”
David couldn’t get the woman out of his head. Catherine. He’d never forget the look on her lovely face as he left her on the terrace. Shock had paled to agony in a gradual descent. Not only had he treated her with such disrespect, but somehow, he’d wounded her further. The very idea grieved him.
She moved among the patients, offering compassion. Some of them responded with harmless smiles, but others followed her movements like vultures. David gripped the cup in his hand so
tightly his fingers cramped.
Then she turned those piercing sapphire eyes to him and smiled. He stared, entranced, before realizing he stared. He nodded in response. A vision of her on the streets of Ednesbury filtered into his mind. She was with Dr. Carrier, and people were angry.
Catherine? He tilted his head as a sliver of knowledge emerged from the fog. Ashleigh’s sister, Catherine Dougall. The flirt.
But that title didn’t fit the woman serving these wounded, a woman covering the curves of a pregnancy. What was her story and why did he have this indescribable need to uncover it? He placed his head in his good hand and groaned. Dear God, help me.
“Could I get you something for your headache, Dr. Ross?”
He looked up, and she stood before him, her expression wary, and no wonder after the way he’d attacked her. “You’re not a nurse.”
“Well, I’ve learned a few things about nursing, but I’ve had no formal training. Only what you and my sister have taught me.”
“Me?” He searched for the connection but his mind wouldn’t comply. “You’re Ashleigh’s sister?”
A faint light lit her smile. It was a pleasure to afford her such a small joy. “Yes. Her older, but not wiser, sister. I’m afraid I’ve been the black sheep of the family.”
He studied her, searching for anything other than authenticity, but found none. “I remember meeting you in Ednesbury, with Ashleigh and Sam, but…I have the feeling we are somehow more than mere acquaintances.”
She opened her mouth to answer and then snapped her lips closed, reconsidering it, it seemed. “Actually, you introduced me to Christ when I didn’t deserve it.”
“Did I?”
“Indeed. It was rather scandalous of you.” Her smile spread to her eyes, the memory evidently a pleasant one. “My sister was sick with pneumonia, and I was at her bedside. I could show you the place sometime. It was at Roth Hall.”
The Thorn Keeper Page 30