‘Well, that depended,’ the General replied, rubbing his whiskery chin as he considered her question. ‘Some were sent home, others healed well and wanted to stay. Injuries can vary a great deal, and I’ve no wish to ruin your evening with talk of some of the atrocities I have seen.’
‘My younger sister is keen to pursue nursing, my lord,’ Josephine offered swiftly, ‘so I ask partly to help inform her… Were there many who suffered serious injury and yet stayed on to fight, for example?’
Josephine held her breath as she edged the conversation towards her goal. Thankfully the General seemed not to bat an eyelid, while Isabella scowled behind her cards.
‘Plenty suffered in that way, Miss Fairfax, and every single one pained me. Some managed to stay on, others returned home to make the best of it.’
‘But, of all injuries, injury to an upper limb has to be one of the hardest, surely?’ Josephine pursued. ‘For we use them for everything and take them so much for granted.’
‘Yes, the injury of a limb is always a serious matter,’ he nodded. ‘A few of mine had suffered in that way and I greatly admired their resilience. I recall one soldier in particular who arrived with scarring from significant injuries. I was doubtful he’d last, but he proved himself the finest officer and an even better swordsman. In the end, I was sorry to see him go, even though it was clear that he was suffering,’ he concluded a little wistfully, staring into his drink.
‘How did he prove himself, sir?’ Josephine followed up, hardly daring to breathe. Somehow, she knew he was referring to Lord Huntingly.
‘Well, he was a quiet one with an air of melancholy. I never quite got to the bottom of it, but there was some family trouble, I gathered… Anyway, he was distinctly honourable, always at the front of a line, and better in combat than any of my other officers.’
Josephine swallowed, recalling Lord Huntingly’s scarred chest.Could he have earned them in battle, and not Italy?
‘So, he returned home after the occupation?’ she asked nonchalantly.
The General wrinkled his brow in thought. ‘Not directly as I recall. He was discharged with full honours, but there was some damnable incident in Italy in the months that followed. He was accused of murder in some street brawl, and I was asked to provide a reference.’ He frowned, re-ordering his cards. ‘Which was all part of my job, of course.’ He stared at his cards intently. ‘Anyway, the investigation was dropped once they discovered the deceased had suffered a family loss and wasn’t in his right mind.’ He appeared to lose himself in thought before his face lit up suddenly. ‘And on a much happier note, I am happy to declare a sixth trick! Now then, who’s for another game?’
ChapterThirteen
The Hamptons’ Grand Ball Supper; Turtle Soup and Asparagus
Three hours later
Isabella had not been jesting about the turtle soup or asparagus, or twenty dishes besides, and Josephine’s eyes grew round with astonishment as she glimpsed the laden supper table.
‘Have you ever seen anything quite like it, Miss Fairfax?!’ Lord Hampton smiled as they assembled to be led into the parlour. ‘I do declare I can smell the baked custard from here!’
Josephine ignored Isabella’s disgusted expression as she took Lord Hampton’s arm, and left her to his ancient friend. Ordinarily, the young ladies were escorted into supper by their most recent dance partner but, as Josephine had insisted on spending much of the evening in the card room, there were no young gentlemen left. She threw her friend a swift, apologetic smile as they joined the throng of couples leading the way into the long parlour, though her mind was awhirl with new questions.
Lord Hampton’s account had to be as reliable as any, but it could also change things. If Pellham had indeed been suffering with melancholy after a family loss, there might be any number of explanations for his untimely demise. Perhaps the street brawl had even offered a welcome release– yet the only person who knew the full truth was Huntingly.
‘We all have our ghosts, Miss Fairfax…The only question is how far we allow them to control our lives… How can you contemplate a match with me at all? It would make you as good as complicit and, by marrying me, your soul would be stained by my sin for all eternity.’
She closed her eyes as she recalled his hostility, the flares in his eyes touching her bones. That he was haunted by his memories was clear, and she suppressed a shiver as a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘Hampton! Your servant, sir! Apologies for our late arrival, we have only come up to town this evening…’
‘Fred!’ Josephine exclaimed, more delighted to see her brother than she ever recalled. ‘I didn’t know you were coming!’
‘Sir Francis!’ Isabella chimed with similar relief. ‘How truly delightful to see you! Believe me, the evening has only just begun…’
‘Not at all, you young gentlemen are most welcome, and not least of all by these young ladies. Now then, Colonel, I believe we have precisely two minutes to find out exactly where they have placed the baked custards before Lady Hampton locates me. We might have to deploy a covert operation…’
Josephine laughed and curtsied as the elderly gentlemen took their leave, leaving Fred and Sir Francis to make up their four instead.
‘Thank you, Alfred,’ Isabella murmured as Fred offered his arm, leaving Sir Francis and his sandalwood cologne with Josephine.
Josephine drew a breath, overtly aware that the gaze of every lady in the supper line was lingering on the Olympian beside her. In all fairness, it was difficult not to look. Tonight, he was sporting a velvet green frock coat with broad shoulders and a nipped-in waist, beneath which a mustard waistcoat was buttoned high, leading the eye to a meticulously tied cravat with more folds than Josephine could fathom. His flaxen hair had been styled in the new Romantic way, that required precise short curls to fall around the forehead, and his whole ensemble had been finished with fitted pantaloons and polished evening shoes, in which she could see her own image.
Momentarily, she gazed too, certain that Sir Francis looked the very picture of every hero she’d ever imagined, before Lord Huntingly replaced him, holding a sprig of citrus blossom. She blinked and his image disappeared as the supper line moved forward.
‘We meet again, Miss Fairfax,’ Sir Francis murmured with his golden smile, ‘and I never had the chance to thank you.’
Josephine pushed her glasses up her nose with a faint frown.
