Emeralds & Ashes

by Leila Rasheed

  Your mother, Countess of Westlake

  Charlotte put the letter down, a little dazed by the mixed feelings it had aroused in her. She was surprised at how relieved she felt at Rose’s safe return. She had never liked Rose, but she could see now that she had treated the poor girl unfairly, driven by her own unhappiness. She had assumed competition where there was none, and with distance she suspected that it had unconsciously galled her to see Rose finding something to excel at—her musical compositions—when she herself felt she had no real purpose in life. But now…

  Even surrounded by death and sorrow, she was happier than she had ever been before. Nursing had shown her where her talents lay. And she thought of Rose quite differently—not as a rival, but as one more unfortunate person caught up in this awful war, the war that had given her own life meaning, but that she wished more than anything had never happened.

  No, it was not possible to hate Rose. She had no energy for it, no desire to hate her. Besides, being away from her mother gave her perspective. She fervently hoped that Georgiana would be happy with this Captain Wyndham, if she really liked him and it was not just her mother seeing what she expected to see. As for Somerton, she did not want it. It had never been her home. But how like her mother to try and snatch it from Georgiana, who had always loved it!

  She angrily crumpled the letter up, her resentment at her mother’s tone flooding back into her. As if she would run home at her bidding, simply to throw herself at a man she had never met! The whole thing was an insult.

  She tore open the other letter. The handwriting was badly formed and she frowned, trying to make out what the writer meant to say. Then she realized, and her cheeks flushed with pleasure and delight.

  Dear Charlotte

  Well, I have landed up in the finest place on God’s earth! It’s like the garden of Eden here, with a grand old house in the middle of it all, and that’s where I’m staying, with some of the kindest, nicest people on earth looking after me. Can you believe the old earl left it in his will that the house should be used for the benefit of soldiers during the war? He must have had an enormous heart. Well, I have never been too good a writer, and making do with my left hand only worsens it, so I will close, only saying that this is my address and I hope you will remember to write to me. Fine as it is here, I would like to see you again, that would be like a ray of sunshine in my life.

  Captain Flint MacAllister

  Charlotte flipped the envelope over, only to confirm what she had guessed already. Flint was at Somerton! She could not decide which astonished her more—the fact that the house had become a hospital, or the fact that Flint had been sent there, of all places. Nothing could have been luckier, she could go straight home and straight to him…but was that the right thing to do?

  She hesitated, folding and refolding the letter as she thought. She knew, none better, how desperate the need was for medical staff here. But she also remembered what the medical officer had said. She could not continue forever on the front line. And if she could keep going with her nursing, as her mother had promised, she would still be helping.

  Her heart made the decision for her. She slipped the letter into her pocket, snatched up a pen and her mother’s letter, and scribbled a hasty reply on the bottom.

  Dear Mother,

  Please expect me soonest.

  Charlotte

  She put the letter into a fresh envelope, stamped it, and, stopping only to drop it into the post tray, raced back to her hut to pack.

  Somerton

  Rebecca hurried along the main corridor of Somerton Court. She passed rooms that had been drawing rooms, which were now filled with neat white beds. Her mind was still whirling with all the changes that had happened, all the new things that she had had to adjust to. The first men had arrived a week ago, just twenty officers and the VADs with them. It was difficult to juggle the often conflicting orders from the countess and from the sister who was in charge of the hospital. But she could see at once how glad the men were to be here, in the heart of the countryside, with the fresh air and the peace and quiet that she knew they had been missing. There was no doubt in her mind that Lady Georgiana had done the right thing.

  Today a new batch of men was arriving. She reached the hall, the ring of her footsteps changing as she stepped from parquet to marble. Outside, the motor ambulance was drawn up, and the VADs were helping the men from the ambulance up the stairs, into the house. Lady Georgiana was standing on the steps, ready to greet them.

  “Welcome!” Lady Georgiana said. Rebecca could tell she was nervous, but her smile came from the heart. “We thank you for all you have done for us, and we hope you will make a full recovery at Somerton.”

  The men murmured their thanks, one by one, as they passed through. They seemed quite overawed. Rebecca went ahead of them, leading them to the appropriate wards. It was still strange to see prim, practical hospital beds set up in the yellow drawing room and the white drawing room and the ballroom.

  “In here, sir,” she said, helping a VAD settle a man on crutches into a bed under a Velázquez depicting a battle scene. She wondered how the soldiers felt about that, but it was too late to do anything about it—she could dust-sheet it later if there were complaints.

  Behind her, she could hear Lady Georgiana and Captain Wyndham—she could not get used to calling him the earl, though she would have to remember when she wrote place cards for dinner—talking as they followed after the VADs to see that the soldiers were comfortable. They paused just outside the door, and spoke in low voices. Rebecca, helping arrange blankets, guessed they did not realize she was there and could hear them. She pursed her lips. The earl was up here at Somerton far too frequently for her liking. She was sure that he was trying to make an impression on Lady Georgiana. It was a hunch, that was all, but she had taken a dislike to the man. There was something so oily in the way he spoke to Lady Georgiana.

  “It has been an easy enough transition into a hospital, don’t you think?” she heard Captain Wyndham say.

  “It could have been much worse. Rebecca and Thomas are so well organized.”

  “I am so glad that this part, at least, of your father’s will could be fulfilled without controversy.”

  “As am I,” Lady Georgiana replied. Rebecca could tell from the tone of her voice how much she appreciated the thought. There was a pause; then the earl went on in a lowered voice:

  “I am afraid your sister will never forgive me.”

  “Rose? Oh no. I don’t think she holds a grudge on little Edward’s behalf. We are”—Georgiana hesitated—“sorry, of course. As devoted aunts, we want everything good for our nephew.”

  “I am glad to hear it, but in fact I did not have Rose in mind. I am concerned that Lady Ada is going to some extremes to try and prove my lawyers have made a mistake. It is understandable, of course.”

  “Oh…” Rebecca could hear the embarrassment in Georgiana’s voice, and her desire not to say anything that would offend or hurt. Tucking in the blankets, she wished she could say, You’re too soft on him, my lady.

  “But let us speak of more pleasant things,” Captain Wyndham went on, steering smoothly away from the subject. “I was delighted to hear that the Duke of Huntleigh may soon be able to get compassionate leave to visit his wife and son.”

  “Oh, yes!” Georgiana’s warmth and enthusiasm rang in her voice. “It has been so awful for her, to receive these letters all blacked out by the censor. It seems truly cruel that the men are not allowed to write where they are. I know it is necessary, that the information could be intercepted by the enemy, but still—Rose trembles at the news of every engagement in the east.”

  “My heart goes out to her. I—” He broke off as Rebecca, who had finished her work, walked out of the room. Rebecca saw an unpleasant expression in his eyes as he looked at her; he was standing very close to Lady Georgiana, and she was sure that she had disrupted some plans he had for flirtation. She met his gaze boldly, and wished she dared stick her ton
gue out. There was no way she was going to let him wheedle his way into her Lady Georgiana’s affections.

  “Would you like me to see about the extra medicine stores now, my lady?” she addressed Georgiana. “The doctors were talking about needing more space.…I’m sure we can make room in the kitchen for things that are not dangerous in any way.”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea, Rebecca.” Lady Georgiana’s blush was fading. She looked up, and Rebecca followed her gaze, as some soldiers walked into the room, gazing around openmouthed at the paintings and the high ceilings and gilded cornices.

  “Cor blimey, Bert,” one of them said, in a strong Cockney accent, “look where we’ve landed up. Bloomin’ Buckingham Palace!”

  “Oh, are you lost? May I help you find your ward?” Lady Georgiana went toward them, her back turned to Captain Wyndham.

  “Here, you. There must be some mistake,” Captain Wyndham said to Rebecca. “We are an officers’ hospital. These men must be sent away at once.”

  Rebecca bridled. “No, sir,” she said as calmly as she could, “Somerton Court Sixty-Sixth General Hospital will be accepting both officers and men. It is not unprecedented.”

  “But good God, woman! You can’t expect gentlemen to live side by side with…with…” He gestured at another load of ordinary soldiers who were coming up the hall. “Tommies.”

  “They have been doing so in the trenches, sir.” Rebecca was angry enough to let it show in her voice.

  Captain Wyndham took no notice. “Why was I not consulted about this?” he demanded.

  “Because, Your Lordship, you are not the master of Somerton Court,” said a voice.

  Rebecca, startled, looked up and saw that Thomas was approaching. He had spoken quietly and with a pleasant smile, but Rebecca could feel the tension in the air. She swallowed as he reached them, hoping that there would not be a scene. Captain Wyndham blinked, looked away, tried a contemptuous laugh, and then, seeming to realize he was faced with hostility from two sides, turned and quickly walked off.

  Rebecca caught Thomas’s eye and they both breathed out in relief. A scene had been averted—for now.

  “That was brave of you,” she said to him under her breath.

  “Not at all. He’s not master here, and he may never be,” Thomas replied in the same tone.

  Rebecca smiled her agreement. She turned away, but Thomas spoke her name, calling her back.

  “Rebecca—may I speak to you? Privately?” Thomas took her hand and drew her aside, into an empty room, without waiting for an answer. Rebecca’s pulse speeded up. “I want to ask you a question, and I thought I should grab my chance,” he said in a low voice.

  He is not going to propose, Rebecca told her fluttering heart, sternly. Really, don’t be silly!

  “Of course, Mr. Wright.”

  “Thank you. I can trust you with anything, I feel, and I can’t tell you what a relief that is.” He pressed her hand. They were very close together. She could feel his warmth, knew that his heart was beating fast too. She did not trust herself to reply.

  “I want to ask you a great favor. I need to go away, just for one day. I daren’t ask for leave; they’d want to know why. Can you cover for me?”

  “O-of course.” Rebecca hoped her faltering voice didn’t betray her disappointment. “But may I ask why?”

  “Certainly. It’s nothing underhand, but I wouldn’t like it to get out, until I was sure.” Thomas sounded embarrassed. “I am going to Manchester to be interviewed for a job.”

  “A job!” Rebecca was shocked. “You mean—you mean you’re going to leave?”

  Thomas let go of her hand, and looked down. “The thing is, Rebecca, I want to make something of myself. Something more than a butler. I know many would say that I’m lucky to be doing what I am, that I should stay where I am, but I’m still another man’s servant. I want to have my own business, my own money. I want to be my own master. I know the war’s making everything difficult, but there’ll be a world after the war, and I want to be ready for it. So I want to go and train as an engineer. I’ve saved up the money, and there’ll be plenty of work while the war’s on. When it’s over, well, I’d be ready to set up my own business. My old man was a coach builder. It’s not that far from coaches to motorcars; you just take out the horses. This job I’m going for is just as an apprentice, but it’s guaranteed work, and it’ll take me forward in life. I don’t want to spend my life here. I can’t sign up—my parents won’t hear of it and I won’t cross them even when I come of age—but I don’t want to spend the war opening doors and ironing collars, either.”

  Rebecca nodded silently. She understood how he felt. But she wondered if it would be easier to bear if she didn’t. “Of course I will cover for you,” she said quietly. “I shall say you’ve gone into Palesbury, to the dentist, will that do?”

  He grinned. “I’ll fake a sore tooth the day before. Thank you, Rebecca. I knew I could count on you.”

  He squeezed her hand one more time, and walked out of the shadows, back to the stairs. Rebecca followed him. Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and he was at the baize door, it whisked open. Annie was on the other side of it. Rebecca’s quick fear that she might have been eavesdropping vanished as soon as she saw her flustered expression and heard her words. “Oh, Mr. Wright. There’s an officer here, come all the way from London. He wants to see a Corporal Moore? Rupert Moore? Something about a medal?”

  The bath chair’s wheels trundled along parquet, then were muffled by carpet, then clattered onto marble. Sebastian had learned to distinguish the sounds, had learned to listen more carefully in the past few weeks than he ever had before. That, he thought, was a silver lining. But he couldn’t find it in him to appreciate it.

  He fought against an urge to shout at the VAD who pushed his chair. To tell her, I’m not bloody crippled, you know. Just blind. Yet even though his other injuries were long healed, he had to sit here, a burden, a problem to be moved from one place to another, an object of pity. Powerless. That smarmy staff officer, that Wyndham, who’d spoken over his head to the nurse, his voice dripping with pity the way a wound dripped blood. If he’d had any spirit left, he would have punched the man. Run his bath chair over his foot. The thought brought a half smile to his mouth, a lip jerking upward like a fish on a hook. Not really a smile, but better than nothing, he thought.

  Soft footsteps behind him. The swish of a skirt.

  “Corporal Moore,” the VAD began. Her voice was soft and startled as a butterfly taking flight. They were all so bloody gentle, he thought, and full of pity. “Wouldn’t you like to join the other officers in the garden? It is a lovely day.”

  “No thank you.”

  “If you like, I could take you on a tour of the house and gardens. We are in—”

  “I don’t care where we are.”

  “But—”

  “I said I don’t care where we are!” He thumped his fist against the arm of his chair, taking a perverse pleasure in hearing her intake of breath and her step back. If they thought he was their pet, they could think again. This lapdog bites. “What the hell is the good of a tour if I can’t see a damn thing? If you want to do me a favor, leave me alone. And get everyone else to do the same.”

  “Sir.” Her voice was hurt, and she backed away. The door closed behind her. Sebastian was left alone.

  That was a brutish thing to do, he thought. The sun came full on his face; he was facing the window, he guessed. The sound of birdsong and a familiar scent of roses came through the air. There was sense of light and space all around him. They must have put him in a private room. Poor bastard, they probably said, it’s the best we can do for him.

  I don’t want to be pitied, he thought. I want to be treated like a human being.

  He knew he wasn’t being fair to the nurse, who had only wanted to help. But all he wanted was to be alone. What does the future hold now? He thought. I expect Mother’s money could make me comfortable, as they say. But who wants to be
comfortable? If Oliver could see me now…He winced at the thought. It was too painful. He raised his hands and ran them over the bandages that still covered much of his face. How wounded am I? he wondered. Don’t mince words, Sebastian. Am I a monster? Is that what you want to know? Would Oliver turn away in horror from my face? But he never can. I will never see him again. I would not risk the chance that he would see me as a responsibility, as a burden. I may have lost my sight, but I will not be a burden to anyone. I will kill myself rather than be a burden.

  A man cleared his throat behind him. Sebastian jumped. He was ashamed at being caught like this, furtively and vainly trying to find out how disfigured he was. No more privacy, ever again, when anyone could sneak up on you without warning. No more safety.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” he said roughly.

  The man walked toward him. “I am sorry to disturb you, Corporal.”

  Sebastian guessed from his clipped accents and his neat footsteps that he was an officer.

  “I have come to see you directly from London.” The man paused. “From His Majesty.”

  Sebastian was silent for a moment in surprise. The officer hurried on.

  “It is my duty—no, my honor and my privilege—to tell you that you have been awarded the Victoria Cross, for your heroic actions in the line of duty. His Majesty will present you with the medal at the palace as soon as you are well enough to travel. I do congratulate you most heartily—”