“I missed you at the picnic last evening,” he said. “I thought you were to be there.”
“Yes,” she said. “I looked forward to it because I have never been to a moonlight picnic before. But Ellen would have had to come, and Papa would have come to keep her company. And they are such strange people. If you would believe it, they would far prefer to stay at home together. And they have been so very good to me. I have been allowed to go everywhere. So I had the headache last night and retired early to my room.”
“Did you?” he said, looking at her with some amusement. “And did you sleep?”
“No, I did not,” she said. “I wrote a long letter to Helen West, my particular friend at school, but I had to shade the candle so that Ellen and Papa would not see it shining under the door, and then I could scarce see the paper to write. I was feeling thoroughly cross and sorry for myself by the time I went to bed.” She looked up at him and giggled merrily.
“Well,” he said, speaking more incautiously to her than he had ever done before, “I was feeling cross and sorry for myself too by the end of the evening. You were not there.”
She blushed and looked away.
But it was true. Not, perhaps, that he had been out of sorts just because of her absence. But he had definitely been out of sorts. He had found himself almost literally bumping into Susan Jennings wherever he turned, and somehow turning aside her veiled suggestions that they stroll and enjoy the moonlight together. Lieutenant Jennings was apparently about official business and had been unable to accompany his wife to the picnic.
Moonlight picnics could get one into more trouble than just about any other entertainment.
He looked down at Jennifer Simpson again, some light remark on his lips. But it froze there when he found her tight-lipped, tears glistening on her lashes.
“What is it?” he asked in some concern.
“Those horrid women,” she said. “I hate them.”
He looked his amazement.
“Did you not see?” she asked. “They walked quite pointedly past Ellen and Papa and made a great to-do about acknowledging you.”
“Those two ladies we just passed?” he asked in some astonishment. “Because I have a title, perhaps, and they think me vastly superior to the ordinary run of mortal.” He grinned down at her.
“Because Ellen is the Countess of Harrowby’s daughter,” she said, “and they think her a little worse than the dirt beneath their feet. The two of them together do not possess as much worth as Ellen in her little finger.” Her tone was quite vehement.
He frowned in incomprehension and glanced ahead to Mrs. Simpson, who was saying something to Charlie and smiling.
“And Ellen persists in not noticing,” Jennifer continued. “And Papa says that those people are not worthy even of our contempt. I would like to spit in their eye, and I would do so too if it would not create a huge scandal and hurt Ellen worse than their snubs.”
“I am sure your father is quite right,” Lord Eden said, “though your anger on your stepmother’s behalf does you credit. But the Countess of Harrowby is still alive.”
“Do you know her?” she said. “Papa told me when I asked-though he said he should not be telling me such things-that Ellen grew up thinking herself the daughter of the earl. But then the countess had a terrible quarrel with him and told him before she ran away with someone else that Ellen was not his daughter. And when Ellen found out, she insisted on going to her real father, who had always been a friend of the family, although the earl wanted her to stay and still be his daughter. She went to Spain, and she met Papa there. And I am glad she did, because they are happy together. And I love her.”
Her voice was shaking. Lord Eden held her arm more firmly to his side. “Mrs. Simpson is a lady, no matter what the story of her past,” he said. “You must disregard those who would snub her. They are beneath notice.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “But I hurt for Ellen’s sake.”
Lord Eden looked ahead to Mrs. Simpson, who was now laughing at something Charlie was saying. Yes, the girl was right. They were happy together, those two. And it was right that they be so. Charlie was the kindest of men, even to the soldiers of his company. He deserved happiness in his personal life. And Mrs. Simpson, from what she had said about herself, and from what he had just heard, had not had an easy life. Yet she had not let herself become embittered. She was a kind and dignified lady. She deserved happiness too. She deserved Charlie.
He felt a twinge of the old envy. Perhaps he had never done anything himself to deserve such love from a woman.
He was glad that she had recovered from that embarrassment that had made them awkward in each other’s presence for a few days. He did not like to feel uncomfortable with Mrs. Simpson. He did not like to be aware of her as a woman, lovely as she undoubtedly was. Such awareness seemed disrespectful to her and disloyal to Charlie.
She was Charlie’s wife, and it was perfectly right that she be so.
“There is going to be fighting soon, isn’t there?” Jennifer said.
“It is possible,” he said. “But not just yet. You need not worry.”
“That is what everyone tells me,” she said. “But I do worry. And it all seems so senseless. I wish people did not have to fight.”
“Most of us agree,” he said. “But I am afraid we live in an imperfect world.”
“I think Papa is going to send me home,” she said. “I don’t think it fair. Ellen will be staying, and she has been with the army since she was younger than I am now.”
“Your papa will doubtless worry less if you are safe in England,” he said. “And women who stay close to the fighting do not have an enviable lot, you know.”
She looked annoyed, and he realized he had said the wrong thing. “Do you think it is easy for women to be in England,” she said, “where we do not hear of a battle until days after it is all over? Do you have any idea what it is like waiting to find out if one’s father is alive or dead? And this time it will be worse because I know more men than just Papa. It is not fair to treat us as children who will be safe as long as our bodies are not harmed.”
“I am sorry.” He touched her hand. “But we men are brought up to feel protective of women, you see. And sometimes the best we can do is to protect them from physical harm. It is not easy for us, either. I have a mother and a sister who will be scarred for the rest of their lives if I die. That is no easy knowledge to have on my mind as I face battle.”
She nodded. “No one has it easy at such times, I suppose,” she said. “So the best way I can help Papa is to go meekly home when he tells me it is time?”
He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“I’m afraid so too,” she said ruefully.
They smiled at each other.
She was not such a child after all, Lord Eden thought. Not as fragile and helpless and as much in need of a man’s protection as he had thought.
Chapter 6
ELLEN HAD NOT FLINCHED FROM THE HEIGHTENED preparations for war that she had seen happening around her. She had given in to her fear during that one evening at home with her husband, but she would not do so again. Besides, she had found from past experience that the closer a pitched battle drew, the calmer she became. It was as if the inevitability of it all finally convinced her that anxiety was a pointless luxury.
They were walking in the park beside the lake. She had met the captain there after he had finished duty for the day. Jennifer and Lady Anne Drummond, Lord Eden and Lieutenant Penworth were watching the swans on the water.
“Jennifer has taken it well, hasn’t she?” Captain Simpson said. “I expected that there would be many more tears than there actually have been.”
