“The captain is not a bad person,” the boy said, his good arm carrying Charlotte’s basket. “Whatever he says, he doesn’t deserve this.”
“No one does.” John knelt to snuff the candles on either side of the entrance and then placed each in the basket Private James held out.
“The captain saved my life; he saved many lives. The ones he took, he did by necessity. Anything else that happened, well, that wasn’t intentional. He would never have done it if he’d known what they would do with it.”
“What do you mean?” John asked. “What did he do?”
The boy shook his head. “’Tis not for me to share, m’lord. But his intentions were good. He would never have done it otherwise.”
Chapter 13
As they crawled into the hack, Charlotte tried hard to keep the tears back. It appeared every time she visited, William’s body had healed a little more and his mind had deteriorated.
She couldn’t look at John, instead she kept her eyes trained on the scenery they were passing. The clouds that had been threatening to open all day gave way, sending large, fat raindrops rolling down the carriage windows, turning her view of the world watery.
“He needs help, Charlotte.”
“I know that. Do you think I haven’t been trying? Do you think I haven’t been doing everything within my power? There are very few resources for returning soldiers. No one knows what to do with them, so they don’t even try, and nothing I do seems to work. He’s not improving at all.”
John sighed, running his hands through his hair, leaving locks of it standing out at jarring angles. “You can’t fix everything, Charlotte, as much as you might wish to. Some things are beyond you. Men like your brother need more money and expertise than you have.”
“I am his sister. I am a highly capable woman who has solved many problems. I should be able to fix this.”
“Wilde has more resources than half the country combined. He should know about this. He may be able to do more than you can.”
He said it kindly, but it still felt like censure, mostly because that same thought raised its head every time she despaired. “Ican’t. Will won’t allow it. He’s so angry.”
John was going to argue, going to make a very valid point that she’d not be able to defend against. Going to say that perhaps it was time to think about what Will needed rather than what he wanted. But what he really needed was her, and if she betrayed him now…
“I could have all the money in the world and there still wouldn’t be help for him. Chelsea hospital has been at capacity for over a decade, filled with soldiers of Waterloo with long-term injuries who still cannot be discharged.”
John reached across the carriage and put a reassuring hand on her knee. “There are other options, Charlotte. There are hospitals that deal specifically with illness of the mind.”
Charlotte’s blood turned ice cold and she pulled away from him. “Are you suggesting my brother go toBedlam?” Rarely was she moved to violence, but at this moment the temptation was strong. The rumors that swirled about England’s mental asylums were horrifying. The things that they purportedly did to patients beggared belief.
“I will never, ever allow that,” she said. “Which means, I’m it. I’m all he has. So you can either help or you can leave.”
And she would be forced to solve this on her own again.
John switched sides, coming to sit beside her. He put an arm around her shoulder and tugged her close until she was resting against him, inhaling his sweet scent of bergamot and charcoal. Her heartbeat slowed and the tension that had her coiled tight since Will’s outburst began to dissipate.
“I’ll help, Charlotte.” He murmured softly. “You’re not in this on your own.”
***
As usual, she was mobbed for sweets the moment she stepped out of the carriage. One child looked up at Charlotte, drawing her lips back in a wide, awkward smile.
“Oh, Mary. You’ve lost a tooth! When did that happen?”
“Yestherday,” the girl said, popping a candy in her mouth.
“Well, that is very exciting. You simply must have an extra sweet for such an accomplishment.” She pulled another wrapped lolly from her reticule and handed it over. Grubby hands snatched it.
Charlotte tousled the young girl’s hair, bid the children farewell, and crossed the street to William’s boardinghouse. As she climbed to the second floor, she greeted his landlady, handing over a small packet that held next week’s rent. It had wiped out her savings, but at least she hadn’t had to sell any of her things. Yet. She would need to convince him to come home soon, though, or else she’d be making friends with a pawnbroker.
Unusually, the door was locked when she tried to open it. She pulled out the spare key the landlady had given her and let herself in.
The stench in the room was worse than outside. William had given up bathing. His chamber pot was full, and this morning there was the distinct aroma of vomit in the air, tinged with the acrid smell of smoke. Private James was nowhere to be found.
