Читать книгу The Bargain - Mary Jo Putney - Страница 10

After leaving Captain Dalton, Jocelyn entered the enclosed stairwell, then plopped down on a step between floors, heedless of her expensive gown. Burying her face in her hands, she struggled to collect herself, her mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings. She was intensely relieved that her problem was solved—assuming Major Lancaster didn’t die in the night—yet she half wished she’d never set foot in the York Hospital. Though neither man had shown disgust at her impulsive suggestion, she felt like a carrion crow feasting on the almost dead.

Well, she and the major had made a bargain, and it was too late to withdraw now. There was comfort in the knowledge that he’d seemed pleased to accept her proposition. Yet when she thought of the major’s courage, his amused green eyes, she could have wept for the waste. How many other men and boys had died as a result of Napoleon’s ambition, or been crippled like Richard Dalton and Rhys Morgan?

It didn’t bear thinking of, so Jocelyn stood and carefully donned her gracious-lady facade. By the time she reached Rhys Morgan’s ward, she appeared composed again, though misery still knotted in her midriff.

Hearing an anguished, Welsh-accented voice, she paused in the door of the ward, just out of sight of the Morgans. “Who would ever want a cripple like me?” Rhys said harshly, “I can’t fight, can’t go down in the mines, would only be half a man working on the farm. I wish the damned cannon had blown my head off rather than my leg!”

Hugh’s softer voice started making soothing noises, too low for Jocelyn to hear the words. She squared her shoulders before entering the ward. Here was something she could do for a man who would be around long enough to benefit.

When she approached the bed, both brothers turned to face her. Rhys’s face was tense, while Hugh’s showed the guilt and misery of a whole man in the presence of one who was maimed.

As Hugh stood, Jocelyn said to Rhys, “Corporal Morgan, I have a favor to ask.”

“Of course, my lady,” he said woodenly.

“I know it would be very dull after all you’ve done and seen, but would you consider coming to work for me? My aunt will be leaving soon to set up a separate household, and she’ll be taking several of the servants, including one of the two men who work in the stables. As a cavalry man, surely you are experienced with horses. Would you be interested in the position?”

The corporal’s face reflected shock, and dawning hope. “I should like to be a groom.” His gaze went to his missing leg. “But I … I don’t know if I can manage the work to your ladyship’s standards.”

Deliberately she looked to the flat place on the bed where there should have been a strong, healthy limb. “I see no reason to doubt your competence, Corporal.” Wanting to lighten the mood, she said mischievously, “Please say yes, if only for your brother’s sake. He is positively menaced by housemaids trying to capture his attention. Having another handsome young man in the household will make his life easier.”

Hugh blurted out, “My lady!” his face turning scarlet.

At the sight of his brother’s embarrassment, Rhys leaned back on the pillows and laughed with the air of a man rediscovering humor. “I shall be most honored to work for you, Lady Jocelyn.”

“Excellent.” Another thought struck her. “Why not ask the doctors if you can be moved to my house for recuperation? It’s a much more pleasant place than this, and your brother will be glad to have you near.”

“Oh, my lady!” Hugh exclaimed, his face lighting up.

“I … I should like that very much, Lady Jocelyn.” Rhys blinked a suspicious brightness from his eyes at the prospect of leaving the hospital.

“Then we shall expect you as soon as you are released.” As she withdrew so that Hugh could have a private farewell with his brother, she thought of David Lancaster, who was so frail that any attempt to move him would probably cause his death. Rhys Morgan was robust by comparison. With a comfortable place to live and a good job waiting, he would adjust to his loss fairly soon. And she would get a fine groom in the process.

A few minutes later the footman joined her, and they left the building. Jocelyn inhaled the warm summer air with relief. Even with the smells of the city, it was blessedly fresh after the hospital.

Behind her, Hugh said hesitantly, “Lady Jocelyn?”

She glanced back at him. “Yes, Morgan?”

“My lady, I will never forget what you have just done,” he said gravely. “If there is ever anything I can do to repay you, anything at all …”

“It was easily done, and I’m sure your brother will be a worthy addition to the house,” she said, shrugging off his gratitude.

“It may have been easy, but few would have done it. ’Tis said in the servants’ hall that there isn’t a lady in London with a warmer heart than yours.”

She inclined her head briefly in acknowledgment, then turned to scan the street. “Do you see where my carriage is waiting?”

Carriages were easier than compliments.

Before returning to Upper Brook Street, Jocelyn paid a visit to her lawyer and man of business, John Crandall. In the years since her father’s death, the lawyer had become accustomed to dealing directly with a lady, but today her requests raised his experienced eyebrows.

“You’re going to marry a dying officer?” he repeated incredulously. “It will fulfill the terms of the will, but your father’s hope was that you’d find a husband to keep you in line. This Major Lancaster can scarcely do that.”

Jocelyn did her best to look soulful. “Why do you think I have not married elsewhere? The attachment between David and me is … is of some duration.”

It wasn’t quite a lie. An hour qualified as “a duration.” “He was in Spain when I visited my aunt and her husband. But the war, you know …” Also not a lie, though certainly intended to be misleading. “I have never known a braver or more honorable gentleman.” That, at least, was the truth.

Mollified, Crandall promised to procure the special license, arrange for a clergyman, and have the settlement and quitclaim documents ready in the morning. On the ride home, Jocelyn pondered whether to tell Lady Laura about her wedding, but decided against it. Her aunt had said in as many words that she didn’t want to know about Jocelyn’s marital schemes. Far better to explain after the deed was done, she thought wryly. She’d learned early that it was easier to get forgiveness than permission.

Jocelyn awoke the next morning with a bizarre sense of unreality. Today is my wedding day. Not that this was a real marriage, of course. Yet that knowledge could not mask the reality that today she would take the step that for most girls was the most momentous of a lifetime, and she was doing it almost at random.

On impulse, she decided to add something special to the tragic little ceremony that would take place later that morning. When Marie appeared with her chocolate and rolls, she sent the girl down to the kitchen with orders to pack a basket with champagne and glasses, and to gather a bouquet of flowers in the garden.

She chose her costume with special care, selecting a cream-colored morning gown with pleats and subtle cream-on-cream embroidery around the neckline and hem. Marie dressed her chestnut hair rather severely, pulling it back into a twist with only the most delicate of curls near her face. Seeing that her mistress looked pale, Marie deftly added a bit of color with the hare’s foot.

Even so, Jocelyn thought when she glanced in the mirror, she looked as if she was going to a funeral. And wasn’t that almost the truth?

At fifteen minutes before eleven o’clock, Jocelyn’s carriage halted at the entrance of the York Hospital. Waiting there was Crandall, a bulging case of papers in one hand and a vague, elderly cleric at his side. The lawyer looked gloomy. Jocelyn considered pointing out that he should be glad that she was keeping her inheritance and her need for his services, but decided that would be vulgar.

As Hugh Morgan helped her from her carriage, she said softly, “You know about my father’s will?”

He nodded. She was unsurprised; servants always knew everything that happened in a household. “I’m about to marry. Please … wish me well.”

His jaw dropped for an instant. Rallying, he said, “Always, my lady.”

Crandall joined them, ending the private conversation. With Morgan carrying the flowers and a ribbon-decorated basket, they entered the hospital in a silent procession. No one challenged them or asked their business. Jocelyn had the eerie feeling that she could ride a horse into the building and no one would give her a second glance.

Major Lancaster and Captain Dalton were engaged in a game of chess when Jocelyn arrived with her entourage. She was absurdly pleased to see that her intended husband was not only alive, but Richard had helped him sit up against the pillows so that he looked less frail. She smiled at the men. “Good morning, David. Richard.”

Her bridegroom smiled back. “This is the best of mornings, Jocelyn. You look very lovely today.”

Hearing the warmth in the major’s voice, Crandall unbent enough to smile, his sense of propriety appeased. He introduced himself, then said, “Major Lancaster, if you will sign these, please.”

David studied the papers carefully before signing. Ignoring the business aspects of the wedding, Jocelyn arranged the flowers on the bedside table in the glass vase she’d brought. Unfortunately, the brilliant summer blossoms made the rest of the room look even more drab. On impulse, she arranged some of the flowers into a small bouquet and tied it with a ribbon stolen from the basket.

After taking her own turn at scanning and signing papers, Jocelyn moved to the side of the bed and gave David her hand. His grasp was warm and strong on her cold fingers. She glanced down into his eyes and was caught by the tranquillity she saw there. Major Lancaster was not a man who either wanted or needed pity.

She smiled tremulously, wishing she could match his calm. “Shall we begin?”

The details of the ceremony were never clear to her after. She remembered fragments: “Do you, David Edward, take this woman …”

“I do.” Though not strong, his voice was firm and sure.

“Do you, Jocelyn Eleanor …”

“I do.” Her response was almost inaudible, even to her.

The vicar’s next sentences were a blur, until the words “Till death us do part,” jumped out at her. It was wrong, wrong, that death should be hovering over what was usually a joyous occasion.

She was drawn back to the present when David took her hand and carefully slid on the gold ring that Richard provided. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

There was humor in his eyes, as if the two of them were sharing a private joke. Perhaps they were.

In a voice much larger than his diminutive frame, the vicar intoned the last, rolling words of the ceremony, “I pronounce that they be man and wife together.”

David tugged at her hand, and she leaned over to kiss him. His lips were surprisingly warm under hers.

Fighting tears, she lifted her head. Softly he said, “Thank you, my dear girl.”

“Thank you, husband,” she whispered.

She wanted to say more, to tell him that she would never forget their brief acquaintance, but the moment was shattered by a low, intense voice from the doorway. “What is the meaning of this?”

Jocelyn jumped as if she had been caught in the act of theft. A scowling young woman stood in the doorway, her fists clenched by her sides. While everyone in the room watched in stunned silence, the newcomer marched to the bed. Her gaze moved from David to Jocelyn, who saw that the angry eyes were brightly green.

With dry amusement, Jocelyn realized that her new sister-in-law had arrived and was not pleased by what she’d found. Sally Lancaster was a short wiry creature, almost relentlessly plain, her dark hair pulled into a tight knot. Her drab gray dress was unfashionably high at the neck, and she wore a practiced look of disapproval. The fine green eyes were her only claim to beauty, and at the moment they sparked with fury.

Jocelyn inclined her head. “You must be Miss Lancaster. I am Lady Jocelyn Kendal. Or rather, Lady Jocelyn Lancaster. As you have no doubt guessed, your brother and I have just married.”

The woman said incredulously, “David?”

He reached out his other hand to her. “Sally, it’s all right. I’ll explain later.”

As she took her brother’s hand and glanced down at him, her face softened. She no longer looked like an avenging angel, just a tired woman little older than Jocelyn herself, her eyes bleak with despair.

Jocelyn turned to her footman. “Morgan, the champagne, please.”

Opening the basket, he produced a bottle and glasses. Pouring and handing around champagne dissipated the tension in the room. Even Sally accepted a glass, though she still looked like a rocket ready to explode.

Jocelyn realized that a toast was in order, but under the circumstances it would be grotesque for anyone to wish the couple health and happiness. In his capacity as best man, Captain Dalton saved the moment. He raised his glass to the newlyweds, looking quite at ease despite the need to balance on his crutches. “To David and Jocelyn. As soon as I saw you together, I knew you were intended for each other.”

Only Jocelyn and David understood the irony of the remark.

After the guests drank, David raised his glass in another toast, saying in a faint, clear voice, “To friends, both present and absent.”

Everyone could drink to that, and the atmosphere took on a tinge of conviviality. Jocelyn kept a wary eye on Sally Lancaster, and was not surprised when the governess said with false sweetness, “Lady Jocelyn, may I speak with you outside for a moment?”

Jocelyn followed her out of the room with resignation. She’d have to deal with her prickly sister-in-law sooner or later, and better that she make the explanations than David. He was obviously tiring rapidly and had hardly touched his champagne.

In the hallway, Sally closed the door before asking sharply, “Would you kindly explain what that was all about? Is it a new fashion for wealthy society ladies to marry dying soldiers, as one would choose a new hat? Will you be telling your friends what an amusing game you have found?”

Jocelyn gasped. If her sister-in-law believed the marriage was the result of some bored, selfish whim, it certainly explained the woman’s hostility. Jocelyn thought of the major’s warmth and understanding touch, and felt angry that Sally dared accuse her of marrying for such a callous reason.

Her irritation tinged with guilt, Jocelyn said in the icy voice of an earl’s daughter, “That is a ridiculous statement and does not dignify an answer. Your brother is an adult. He doesn’t need your permission to marry.”

Sally’s eyes narrowed like a cat’s. “I think you forced him to do it. David has never even mentioned your name! I can’t believe he would marry without telling me unless he had no choice.”

Jocelyn realized that the other woman was jealous of her brother’s attention, but was irritated enough to say acidly, “Perhaps he knew that you would throw a tantrum and preferred a peaceful ceremony.”

She regretted the comment when Sally’s face whitened. More gently she said, “We decided very suddenly, just yesterday. Perhaps there wasn’t time to notify you.”

Sally shook her head miserably. “I was here yesterday afternoon. Why wouldn’t he want me at his wedding?”

Captain Dalton joined them, apparently guessing that the ladies would need a referee. Closing the door with the tip of one crutch, he said without preamble, “Sally, David did it for you. Lady Jocelyn, with your permission, I will explain the situation.”

Relieved, she nodded, and Richard described Jocelyn’s need to marry, and why David had agreed. Sally still looked mutinous. “He had no need to marry for my sake. I can take care of myself perfectly well.”

Richard unobtrusively leaned against the wall, face fatigued. “Sally, it will make David much happier to know that you are provided for. Will you let him have that?”

Sally’s face crumbled and she began to weep. “I’m sorry, Richard. It … it just seems so strange. What right does she have to sweep in like this?”

Jocelyn looked down at the ring David had put on her finger. A simple, well-worn gold signet ring that had to have come from his own hand. Perhaps the only thing of value he owned. It fit rather well. Aching, she said, “I have the right your brother gave me.” Raising her head, she said, “If you will excuse me, I will rejoin my husband.”

As she reentered the sickroom, she saw that Sally was now sobbing against the long-suffering captain’s shoulder. He put an arm around her and smiled wryly at Jocelyn over the bent head. The man had a real talent for dealing with distressed females.

Someone had helped the major lie down again. His face was gray from the effort expended in the last hour, and he looked so fragile that she feared even sitting up again would be the death of him. But as he had promised, he had survived long enough to become her husband.

“It’s time I let you sleep.” She leaned over to kiss him lightly for the last time, then whispered one of the Spanish phrases she had learned, “Vaya con Dios, David.”

“And to you also.” He smiled with a serenity that pierced her heart. “Please be happy in the future, my dear girl.”

Their gazes held for a long, long moment. Once more she ached with desolation at the damnable waste of it all. Gently she laid her small bouquet on his pillow, so he could smell the fragrance of the blossoms.

Barely able to school her expression, she straightened and collected her entourage with a glance. Then she left, not daring to look back.

Go with God, David. And may angels sing you to your rest.