Lily George

by Healing the Soldier's Heart

  “That’s a brilliant idea, Sophie.” She twirled a dark lock of hair around her forefinger. “I shall start making plans right now since we have the rest of the day off. And you? I suppose you’ll start packing for Brightgate. How I shall miss you when you are gone, my dear.”

  Sophie rose, giving Lucy a deeply dimpled smile. “I love being called brilliant,” she said with a laugh. “But don’t worry. I’ll be gone to Brightgate and home before you can say Jack Robinson. I am sure by then you’ll have taught all the small urchins of the veterans’ group their Latin declensions.”

  “Hardly.” Lucy smiled. “But you’ve given me a sense of purpose and direction, and for that I am so thankful.”

  “You are welcome.” Sophie started for the door, then paused, her hand on the latch. “Just promise me one thing, Lucy. Don’t give up on love altogether. It’s…wonderful.”

  Lucy gave a rueful grin. Sophie was such a romantic. She had no idea of the hard realities of life. ’Twould be a pity to squash her girlish dreams, even if they held no meaning for a spinster governess. “All right.” She sighed. “I promise.”

  After Sophie had gone, Lucy settled at her little white desk with a sheet of foolscap. Time to plan a bright future for the lads and lasses who clustered at the meetings on Thursdays. There was no need to waste another thought on Ensign Rowland. She’d made a dreadful blunder, but she’d apologized for it. If she lingered too long, she ran the risk of being one of those obsessive old spinsters who pined after a lost love for decades. She wasn’t like them. She was alive and full of purpose.

  She might get lonely at times. But that was to be expected. The only way to stop those feelings was to live a life devoted to others. That was her true purpose in life. She was a mere background character in other people’s lives.

  *

  “I want to go to the Assembly Rooms for our first outing,” Louisa announced calmly the next morning at breakfast.

  “The Assembly Rooms, Louisa? That’s hardly the educational outing I had thought of,” Lucy replied in her best governess tone of voice. And the Assembly Rooms were far too close to Felton’s shop. Though she had resolved never to think of Ensign Rowland again, she wasn’t yet ready to run the risk of seeing him so soon. “Why not something more educational in nature?”

  “Because. Papa wouldn’t take us to the Rooms yesterday.” Louisa spread a thick layer of strawberry jam on her toast. “He said that we’d be seeing the interior of them all too soon. But that’s not true for me, Lucy. It will be years and years before I get to see them.” She took a bite out of her toast and chewed thoughtfully.

  Lucy toyed with the eggs on her plate. Amelia was due for a series of last-minute fittings before the Assembly Rooms ball; Sophie had moved up the fittings just in case she would be departing for Brightgate within the week. So she and Louisa had the entire day alone together. “Why not the Circus?” she asked, a hopeful note creeping into her tone.

  “The Circus? I’ve been there already. Please, Lucy? I shan’t ask for another frivolous outing again. Cross my heart.” Louisa made a solemn X across her bodice. “I just want to peek in the doorway. Such an outing would give me hope—something to think of in the coming years as I await my dazzling debut…” She trailed off, fixing her governess with a mournful gaze.

  Thus conquered, Lucy couldn’t suppress a laugh. Louisa was so funny. She couldn’t help loving her charge. “Oh, very well. After breakfast, we’ll stroll to the Assembly Rooms. And then, afterward, we’ll come home. You shall spend the rest of the day in the schoolroom to give your poor governess some hope.” It was quite likely that they wouldn’t run into the ensign. After all, she’d had to wind her way back into the shop to even encounter Mr. Felton. ’Twould be highly unlikely that the ensign would be lolling around by the entrance to the Assembly Rooms.

  That’s what she told herself, but her hands began perspiring mightily, and her heart beat like a heavy drum in her chest as they drew closer. Thank goodness for her gloves. She was holding Louisa’s hand, and it would never do for her charge to realize from her damp palms just how nervous she was. She must remain calm and practical, because pretending that she meant anything more to Ensign Rowland than a temporary annoyance was the height of pretentiousness and vanity.

  “Do you think the doors are locked?” Louisa whispered as they stepped up to the entryway.

  “Why are you whispering?” Lucy chuckled. Louisa spoke as though they were entering a sacred monument. “Just try the latch.”

  “No—I don’t dare to try it. You try it, Lucy,” Louisa murmured, tugging at Lucy’s hand.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Lucy grasped the latch and pulled, and the heavy door swung open with ease. “Come on, now. This was all at your bidding.” She pulled Louisa inside.

  The door swung shut behind them, the sound echoing through the empty room.

  “Oh, my. How glorious.” Louisa moved forward on tiptoe, extending her hands as though a phantom dance partner awaited. “Do you see the chandelier, Lucy? It’s even bigger and grander than the one at home.”

  Yes, indeed it was. The morning sunlight streaming through the windows caught its innumerable prisms, sending little rainbows of light glinting around the pristine walls and polished dance floor. What would it be like, to be a young lady in a silk gown, waiting for a dance with a young man in this very room? She closed her eyes for a moment. What if a lanky young man with stormy green eyes walked up to her with a bow?

  “Lucy, are you all right? You’ve got the strangest expression on your face.” Louisa’s voice snapped Lucy out of her reverie.

  What a fool she must have looked. A right ninny in fact. She gave herself a shake. “I’m ready for something to eat. Shall we go home? Or shall we stop at Molland’s?” The quicker they were out of this room, the better—and Louisa could hardly resist the temptation of a luncheon out.

  Lucy’s plan worked. “Oh! Let us go to Molland’s,” she gushed, grasping Lucy’s hand once more. They turned to go, but their progress was halted as the door swung open and a group of workmen bustled in. “Come on, men, the work’s being done in the back of the room,” a familiar voice cried.

  Lucy gasped as she spied Mr. Felton and behind him, a load of wood in his hands, Ensign Rowland.

  Mr. Felton smiled and came toward her with his hand extended. “Miss? How do you do?”

  Lucy grasped his hand and gave a quick curtsy. “Mr. Felton, this is my charge, the Honorable Louisa Bradbury. Louisa, this is Mr. Felton. He runs a cabinetry shop next door.”

  Mr. Felton bowed at Louisa. “That I do, Miss. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must put these men to work. We’re repairing some woodwork for the ball next week.” He turned to the ensign and relieved him of his burden of wood. “Rowland. You can join us in a bit. Make sure these ladies get out onto the street safely.”

  Lucy opened her mouth to protest, but Mr. Felton cut her off with a quick wink of his eye. Then he strode off, whistling gaily.

  She steeled herself and assumed control of the situation. ’Twould serve no purpose if she melted into a puddle before the ensign, with her charge watching in infatuated interest.

  “Ensign Rowland, may I present the Honorable Louisa Bradbury? Louisa is my youngest charge. Louisa, this is Ensign Rowland, a friend of Lieutenant Cantrill’s.”

  Sudden interest gleamed in Louisa’s brown eyes, but she was too well bred to say anything. And for that, Lucy said a small, silent prayer of thanks.

  Ensign Rowland bowed dutifully toward them both, the stubborn lock of hair on his forehead falling forward as he did so. Lucy’s hand itched to smooth it back, but she suppressed the urge. He stole a glance at Lucy, a searching glance that left her knees weak and trembling. What was he thinking? Would he speak to them at all?

  “M-Miss Williams,” he finally said in that rusty, cracked voice that never failed to cause her heart to lurch. “M-Miss Louisa.” He took Lucy’s arm and led her toward the door, Louisa still clinging to her hand. “
Forgive our intrusion, b-but we have work we must do.”

  “Of course,” Lucy replied in a businesslike tone. “We were planning to leave anyway. Thank you, Ensign.”

  “Ensign Rowland,” Louisa piped up, a wheedling expression on her young face, “we were just going to Molland’s for something to eat. Would you like to join us?”

  Lucy shot her a look that would have wilted grass, but Louisa smiled serenely.

  “N-no thank you, M-Miss,” Rowland replied, his tone surprised but still polite. “I—I m-must get to work. B-but I thank you for the offer.”

  “Of course, Ensign Rowland. But I hope you shall join Lucy and me for tea some day,” Louisa persisted. “We should love to have you.”

  Rowland bowed once more. Was he actually blushing? Lucy would have to give Louisa a talking-to once they finally left. Molland’s was definitely out. Louisa had lost the privilege after pushing matters too far. With a final curtsy to the ensign, Lucy hustled her charge out the door and into the street as though hounds nipped at their heels.

  Chapter Eight

  “Don’t be angry with me, Lucy. I was only trying to help,” Louisa wailed as they bustled along the sidewalk. “I don’t see how I did anything wrong. I was terribly polite. And you never mentioned that the ensign was working. Why didn’t you say anything about that?”

  Lucy halted abruptly, her skirts swirling about her ankles. How on earth could she explain? “Because it’s none of our affair. None whatsoever.”

  Louisa looked up at her with a searching glance. “Why are you so angry? It’s not like you to take on about anything in this fashion. Has something happened?”

  Lucy gave a deep, shuddering sigh. It wasn’t proper to confide in one’s fourteen-year-old charge. She should keep her argument with the ensign absolutely quiet. Confiding in Sophie was one thing. Sophie was a dear friend. But she must keep some distance between Louisa and herself for propriety’s sake. “Nothing happened. I knew that the ensign had started working for Mr. Felton. It surprised me to see him at the Assembly Rooms. That is all. I suppose I let my surprise show too much.”

  Louisa’s eyebrows drew together skeptically. “You seemed a bit more than surprised. You seemed distracted.”

  “Well, that’s really neither here nor there,” Lucy replied crisply. She must divert Louisa. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m in need of refreshment and a rest. We shall go to Molland’s after all.” She took her charge’s arm and steered her back down the street.

  They walked in silence for a bit. The breeze ruffled Lucy’s bonnet strings. Ah, how peaceful. The matter was all settled. That was easier than she had anticipated. And then—

  “I didn’t think the ensign’s speech was that bad, Lucy.” Louisa glanced up from under her bonnet brim. “Does he always manage so well?”

  “Not always.” Goodness, would the child ever let the matter drop? Couldn’t she find some way to change the direction of her runaway thoughts? This was becoming interminable. “I suppose he speaks more fluently in some situations than others.”

  “Well, when you see him at the veterans’ meeting next week, you can tell him that Dr. Phillips wants to see him,” Louisa replied in a confident tone. “If he were cured of his speech defect, I am sure he’d go even further in life than he already has.”

  “Well, I shan’t be seeing him for the time being. He’s busy working with Mr. Felton and has no time for our meetings or for seeing Dr. Phillips. So you see, Louisa? Our offer to help, though kindly made, is not really necessary for Ensign Rowland.” Time to put an end to this. Louisa was far too interested in the whole matter. Lucy rued the day she’d ever brought that medical text into her room. She should have hidden the book better, somewhere safe from her charge’s prying eyes.

  But no, she’d rushed and hurried and Louisa had found the text anyway. Now she’d have a time of it, trying to dissuade Louisa from continuing her interest in the matter. She glanced over her Louisa, who was pursing her lips in a pout.

  “So…no more meetings? He won’t need your help? And I can’t help either? That’s terrible.” Louisa heaved a gusty sigh.

  “Why no, Louisa, it’s wonderful.” Lucy injected a brisk, cheerful tone into her voice. “The ensign is going to find his own way in the world. And his speech impediment is no longer an obstacle. We should thank the Lord that He has been so good to the ensign.” She gave Louisa’s hand a quick squeeze. “Come now, let’s speak of this no more. I see Molland’s up ahead. Shall we completely spoil our lunch and partake of their famous marzipan?”

  Louisa gave a brief smile, turning her attention toward Molland’s, with its pretty window boxes of flowers giving a bright splash of color against the dun-colored stone façade. “Yes, let’s.” But even as her charge seemed absorbed in luncheon preparations, something about her expression made Lucy uneasy. She had the distinct impression that Louisa hadn’t relinquished her interest in the ensign.

  ’Twas going to be a very long Season if that were indeed the case.

  *

  Rowland put the finishing touches onto a piece of mahogany he had carved. ’Twas to be a leg for a chair. Beneath his fingertips, the reddish-brown wood was as smooth as a satin ribbon. As he worked, curling a bit of the wood back from his knife blade, his thoughts wandered. His mind had been straying ever since he ran into Lucy a few days ago. There were so many things he had wanted to say to her, but he didn’t have the nerve. Not in front of the Honorable Miss Louisa Bradbury, at any rate.

  What would he have said, if Lucy had been alone? He flicked a scrap of wood off his blade and continued slowly carving, the scratching sound echoing through his workroom.

  Well, he would have apologized for behaving like such a boor, first of all. He would have told her that her friendship still meant the world to him. What an idiot he’d been, throwing a temper tantrum like a five-year-old when all she did was try to help. His behavior must have seemed ridiculously overblown to someone like Lucy. She seemed so steady, so immovable. It wasn’t her fault, of course. He just could never shake the feeling that, in some ways, his speech impediment was his cross to bear. It was his punishment—a lasting legacy of his cowardice on the battlefield.

  How could a fellow say anything like that to anyone? He had a hard enough time speaking of it to his brothers in arms. But how could he admit to a pretty little slip of a governess the horror of men dying all around him? She would be aghast. And, knowing of his cowardice compared to the bravery of his dying comrades, she’d never speak to him again in all likelihood. A soldier was supposed to be stoic. And he most certainly wasn’t. Youth and inexperience had nothing to do with it. He was simply, at heart, less than a man.

  He finished the carving and turned it around in the late afternoon sunlight that streamed through the window. Not bad. Not bad at all. He really liked making furniture and cabinets. It was altogether unlike the soldier’s life. With woodworking, it was so easy to see your progress. Even the smells of the workshop and the soothing feeling of the wood beneath his fingertips—why, everything about his new job was restful, cathartic even.

  “Looks splendid.” Felton paused in the doorway, bracing his shoulder against the door jamb. “That’s going to make a fine parlor chair. I’ll have to watch myself. In no time, you’ll leave me and go into trade for yourself.”

  Rowland grinned and gave his head a rueful shake. “N-no one will hire a c-cripple,” he jested.

  “Ah, I don’t agree. Not at all. In fact, I had a message this morning from Lord Bradbury.” He unfolded a piece of foolscap with a flourish. “His lordship has a townhome in the Crescent and his library is in rather shabby shape. He has requested a complete rebuilding of the library from the shelves to the desks and chairs. He has specifically asked for my recommendation. And I think you are just the man for the job.”

  Lord Bradbury? That was Lucy’s employer. Surely she hadn’t put him up to this. A governess would have very little sway over such a matter—wouldn’t she? Even so, this was all rather c
urious. “Why not you, F-Felton?”

  “A few reasons. First, I am far too busy overseeing the operations of this business to be at his lordship’s beck and call. I’d much rather put you on the job, collect my part of the fee and continue going about my own business. And, to be honest, this is a reputation-making job. If his lordship likes your work, then he’ll make sure to tell others in the ton about it. And you’ll have commission after commission soon enough.” He shrugged, folding up the foolscap. “I’ve already built my reputation. That’s why his lordship sought out our shop. I don’t need any further laurels.”

  “B-but I’ve only been here for a fortnight,” Rowland protested. Was this charity? He would never accept charity, no matter how kindly it was meant.

  “Oh, stop scowling, lad. You’re the one person I know who would take a sure thing like this commission and then argue about it. His lordship asked me to put the right man on the job. I’ve been in this business long enough to know what makes or breaks a good carpenter. You’re good at it. And with a challenging commission like this, you could be great.” He pointed the folded-up scrap of foolscap at Rowland, lecturing him like a schoolmaster. “Prove to me that you can do this, Rowland. I think you can—but I want to make sure my instincts haven’t become too aged.”

  Rowland squared his jaw. Felton had hired him without knowing whether or not Rowland could even speak, much less whittle a matchstick. He owed Felton a great deal. He could repay the favor by doing an incredible job for his lordship, no matter what it took. “When d-do I go to see his lordship?”

  “I sent a message ’round this morning. Told him to expect you after luncheon.” Felton grinned. “His lordship’s a good sort for ton folk. Rich as Croesus but sensible for all that. He has a fine townhome in the Crescent.”