Supervising Sally (26 page)

Sally insisted on taking Henry to their home, and she ruthlessly sent the servants scurrying to fetch a doctor, the mattress from her own bed to put him on, and a host of other things.

‘Better not to try and take him upstairs,' Zachary advised, and Sally nodded, opening the door of her father's study and clearing chairs out of the way to make room for the mattress.

‘This will do.'

The coachman and footman carried Henry in and laid him down on the mattress. Jeanette then came in almost dragging a Belgian doctor who was grumbling that he could not be spared, and Phoebe stepped outside to where Zachary, exhausted, was leaning against the wall of the house.

‘My lord, will you not come in too? You can sleep in my bed, and when you are rested, you can bathe and deal with your wounds. You say they are not serious, but they need to be cleansed and salved.'

Zachary shook his head. ‘My rooms are close by, and my valet can do what is necessary. He used to be my batman, and patched me up more than once in the Peninsula. But I don't think I have the energy to mount again, so I'll walk.'

‘Lean on me. Hold the saddle with your other arm. We'll get you home.'

She dragged his arm over her shoulder and put her own round his waist. Once or twice she thought he was about to collapse, but after a brief pause he would take a deep breath and start walking again. At last they reached his rooms, she swiftly explained to the valet what had happened, and offered to take the weary horse round to the stables.

‘Is there anyone there to tend him?'

‘Aye, the groom lives in rooms above.'

‘Let me know how he goes on. I must go back now.'

Zachary, leaning heavily on his valet, turned his head and gave her a sweet smile.

‘Phoebe, you are wonderful,' he said, before his valet and landlady, who had come out to see what was going on, urged him inside the house.

Henry's arm was broken, and a bullet lodged in his calf, but his other injuries were superficial, bruising and a not very deep gash in his leg. The grumbling doctor removed the bullet, set the broken bones, and left, saying he had more seriously wounded patients to treat. With Sally's devoted care he was soon himself again, weak but lucid, and pathetically grateful to both girls for coming to his rescue.

‘I'd have died without you,' he said. ‘Many who should have been saved died of exposure or loss of blood.'

‘How can he know that?' Phoebe asked, as she and Sally snatched time for a meal, eaten in the kitchen since all their rooms were occupied by wounded men.

‘Some of the regiment called to see him this morning. Someone saw us bringing him here and they came to enquire.'

Henry, and everyone else, were wondering what had happened to Napoleon. They heard he had reached Paris three days after the battle, but to a cool reception, and the Prussians, who had arrived on the field late but so opportunely, were in hot pursuit.

‘This time he will be sent much further away than Elba,' Henry predicted, ‘but we have to catch him first.'

‘He can't escape, he's surrounded,' Sally reassured him. She had become avid for all the news, in between her ministrations to Henry.

The only news Phoebe wanted was how the earl was progressing. He had been exhausted, but had made light of
his wound, and surely, she thought, he must be able to get about by now. She told herself he would be busy at his work, but surely he could have found time, if not to come and see her, to ask how Henry was. Unless, and the thought terrified her, he had been sent somewhere with despatches. If so, she might never see him again.

‘Papa says we must leave Brussels as soon as Henry is fit to travel,' Sally said a week later. ‘He is afraid of contamination, for there are so many dead bodies still lying in the streets, and he believes the pestilence can be spread through the air.'

‘There is certainly a strong smell,' Phoebe agreed. She had been deputed to do the marketing for the household, while the maids took over most of the nursing, so she had seen the chaos and horror in the streets. ‘Does he mean to send us to Antwerp?'

‘No, he says we must go to England, and he intends to come with us.'

She did not wish to go, she knew, while the earl was here. She had heard no more from him, and worried that his injuries and exertions on their behalf could have been too much for him. Tomorrow, she decided, she would visit his lodgings and ask after him.

That evening Sir William told them more of his plans.

‘Some of the men we have here, who are not badly wounded, can now leave and go back to their regiments. The rest can be taken to Madame Antoine's, she already has a small hospital set up in her ballroom, and says she will be glad to take them. We will organize that tomorrow, and the following day, unless Sir Henry has a relapse, we will set out towards the coast. We will take it easily. Jeanette and the others here can clean the house, for I am giving up the lease. I have had word the Foreign Office will soon be sending me somewhere else.'

‘We'll need two carriages,' Sally said. ‘There must be room for Henry to stretch out and sleep if he needs to.'

‘I'm seeing to all that. You girls, start your packing.'

Phoebe tossed all night. She must see the earl, and make sure he was recovering. It might be considered forward of her, but she cared nothing for that. She would go to his rooms in the morning. It would be the last time she would ever see him, most likely, but she could not leave without knowing he was on the mend.

She slipped out early the next day, saying she had shopping to do. The city was still in disarray, but a little progress had been made in finding shelter for the wounded and burying the dead. When she knocked on the door of the earl's lodgings, she was holding her breath, wondering if he was here. His valet opened the door and for a moment she was unable to speak. At least he was still here.

‘How … how is the earl?' she managed at last.

‘You were the young lady who brought him home? the man asked, belatedly recognizing her. ‘But you were – that is—'

‘Yes, I was wearing breeches,' Phoebe said, seeing his embarrassment. ‘I – we felt it would be safer when we went out to the battlefield. How is he?'

‘Better now, miss. The wound became infected, and for some days he was delirious, and if there had been surgeons available he might have lost the leg. All they can think of is amputation,' he added bitterly.

‘Oh, no! But how is he? Is he better?'

The man laughed. ‘Of course. I've tended wounds before, I was with him in the Peninsula. He's almost himself again, and just this minute threw the bowl of gruel I'd prepared for his breakfast at me, demanding a steak.'

Phoebe laughed. ‘Then I hope you'll provide him with a steak.'

‘If he's fit enough to want one, of course I will. I'll be glad
to see him regaining his strength. My next job is to persuade him to go back home.'

‘Does he wish to go home?'

‘He needs to, to recover in peace. But will you come and see him? Was that what you wanted?'

‘I – yes, please.'

He led the way upstairs to the rooms the earl occupied, and ushered Phoebe into the bedroom, where the earl, propped up on pillows, was glaring in the direction of the door.

‘Is that my steak?' he demanded, and then saw Phoebe. His expression changed from annoyance to an amazed welcome. ‘Phoebe?'

She wanted to throw herself on the bed and take him in her arms, but could do no more than shake her head and sink into the chair set beside the bed. He looked pleased to see her, and that was all she cared about.

He stretched out a hand to clasp hers. ‘Bring some coffee. The steak can wait.'

Phoebe heard the door close softly behind her, but her whole attention was on the earl.

‘You shouldn't have come back with us, looking for Henry,' she said, ‘it must have made your wound worse.'

‘How could I have let you go through that horror alone? Phoebe, are you all right?'

She laughed unsteadily. ‘Of course I am. And Henry is better. What of you? Your man says you have been desperately ill.'

‘It's over now, and I'll soon be up and about if that nanny will give me some proper food. And then—' He stopped, and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Oh, Phoebe, we should be in a moonlit garden, listening to soft music, with the scent of flowers all about us. How the devil can a man propose when he's lying in a sickbed, too weak to get to his feet and take you in his arms?'

She swallowed. ‘Propose, my lord?'

‘My name is Zachary. I want you to call me that. Phoebe, my darling, I made a mull of it last time. Letting you think all I cared about was for a son to deprive Jonas and his misbegotten sons of my title. No, listen to me,' he said as she tried to speak, ‘I don't care if you give me a dozen daughters, or none at all. I want you for my wife, that is all. If we are blessed with children, I will welcome them, but I don't need them to be utterly content with you. Lying here, I've been making plans. You will love my home, and there is a very pretty dower house where your mother can live, if she chooses. I can't imagine she enjoys being with Mr Bradshaw.'

Before she could reply the valet entered with a tray on which there were coffee cups, a pot of the fragrant brew, some soft new rolls, butter and conserves.

‘Your breakfast, sir, madam,' he said, placing the tray on a table beside the bed. ‘Perhaps madam will pour?'

Phoebe, who had tried to snatch her hand away from the earl's grasp when the valet entered, nodded.

‘Leave it to me, and I'll make sure your master has something to eat. Perhaps he could have the steak for dinner?'

The man smiled and backed out of the room. Phoebe again tried to free her hand. ‘I can't pour the coffee,' she pointed out.

‘You are not going to pour it until you say you'll be my wife. Phoebe, whenever I've been in my senses these past days I've been dreaming of holding you in my arms, wishing you to come to me. Will you marry me? Please?'

‘Of course I will, if only to make you drink your coffee.'

‘Be damned to the coffee!'

With surprising strength he pulled her towards him, and she found herself sitting on the side of the bed, clasped in his arms, and being ruthlessly kissed.

‘I'll be fit to travel in a few days. Will you trust yourself to
me, and I'll take you back to Beatrice? She'll be only too delighted to arrange the wedding. Can it be soon? You don't want to spend months gathering a trousseau, do you?'

‘Sir William plans to leave in a day or so, taking Henry home. You could come with us, which would be easier for you. Oh, Zachary, I'm so thankful to find you getting better!' she said, and burst into tears. ‘I was so frightened for you!'

He soothed her, kissed her eyes, wiped her tears away with a corner of the sheet, and eventually agreed to let her go so that they could drink the rather cold coffee, and she could butter the rolls and feed them to him.

Then she had to exert all her will to prevent him when he said he was strong enough to dress and escort her back to Sir William's house.

‘I can't risk a relapse,' she said, kissing him. ‘I will make arrangements, and come to tell you of them this afternoon, and we will be able to set off in a few days. Oh, my dear love, I want you well and strong again. I love you so much.'

‘For you, I'll endure gruel if it brings our wedding forward. Come here, kiss me again, or I might imagine I'm still delirious and it's not really happening.'

‘It's real, my love,' she said as she sat once more on the bed and clasped him in her arms, surrendering to his kisses.