Page 45 of Miss Whittier Makes a List
She noticed thenarrowledge that ran from her window to the next room, which had a balcony, and climbing ivy. It was a matter of some twenty feet along the ledge, which was tenanted now with doves, cooing and puffing themselves up and strutting back and forth as though they strolled on a broad highway.
It wasn’t a moment that demanded deep thought, she decided as she stuck the dispatch down the front of her dress and climbed onto the window ledge. A moment’s thoughtful consideration would only lead to rejection of the plan as dangerous as it was foolhardy. I must seize the moment, she thought as she inched along the ledge, her eyes on the balcony, and not the ground. I must pretend I am in the rigging and not look down. At least the building does not sway. Oh,the things I have done for thee,Daniel Spark, she thought as she edged along. She reached for the balcony finally and pulled herself onto it.
Adam Winslow stared back at her from the other side of the glass. With a shake of his head, he opened the door onto the balcony.“Thee is certifiable, of course, and I suppose I am, too,”was all he said as he straddled the balcony railing and started down the climbing ivy.“I will test it first and then thee should follow. If we are both hanged for aiding and abetting the enemy,I will make sure thee swings first so I can have the satisfaction of watching thy neck stretch!”
He wouldn’t speak to her all the way to the hospital, but kept his eyes straight ahead. Not until they entered the sanctuary of All Saints did he make a sound, and then it was a sigh that went all the way to his toes as he stared at the rows and rows of wounded men fromWellington’s last encounter with Marshals Soult and Ney. He took her hand then.“Hannah,”was all he could say as he tugged her closer.
She leaned against his shoulder.“Adam, doesn’t thee see? If we can help unmask a traitor in the British government,perhapsit wieven the odds here inPortugalandSpain.”
He nodded.“And there would not be so many wounded, eh, Hannah? Well, let’s get this dispatch to our captain and be done with it.”
She hurried toward the lady chapel, squinting into the gloom as she saw the pallets of wounded there, each space filled. She frowned. The Marine corporal was nowhere in sight. Her mind filled with disquiet, she tiptoed to the pallet last occupied by her captain. Someone else lay there now.
Captain Spark was gone.
Chapter Thirteen
Her first fear was that he had died in the night, but she quickly discarded that notion. Anyone who could kiss like Captain Spark wasfirmlyplanted on the road to recovery. Her second thought was anger. So you could not wait to leave, she considered as she stared down at the pallet and its sleeping new occupant. This was replaced quickly by despair. They have shipped you out forLondonand a court martial, but I am not there.
With eyes that scarcely saw, she went back into the main chapel. Adam followed her. He touched herarm.“Is itHollandnow?”he asked quietly.
She gave him a searching look that made himturnred and stare at his shoes.“Adam, where is thy backbone? We have to get toEngland! That’s all there is to it.”
A brief conversation with the hospital steward confirmed her fear.“Oh, my, yes, he was shipped out on last night’s tide, miss,”the clerk assured her, looking down through bloodshot eyes at his endless list of dead, wounded, and misplaced.“Something about a court martial at the Admiralty in two weeks.”He chuckled, remembering.“Damned ... er, excuse me ... bless me if he wasn’t a bit exercised over being so rudely hauled up from his bed of pain. I do believe that was how he put it.”
“Then you have considerably cleaned up his conversation for my benefit.”she replied,her voice crisp.“Has he sailed?”
“Yes, miss. You’re too late.”
She left the building in a rage, tooangry to cry over this latest misfortune. She was at the bottom of the stair, fuming, before Adam caught up with her. He grabbed her and sat her down on the bottom step.
“Hannah,thee is not fit for society!”he said, his demeanor more commanding than usual.“We’ll never get anywhere with thee in a total rage.”
He was right of course. She leaped to her feet and walked to the broad stonebanisterleading down from the church. She wanted to pound on something, but the only thing there was achestnuthorse, its reins looped over the carved marble flowerpot.Sheturned her face into its shoulder instead and cried,standing there until she felt calmenough to look at Adam again. The animal was obliging in the extreme, wickering softly at her as she stood there.
“Heisa good horse, madam,”said a voice behind her.
She whirled around to stare at an elegantlytall officer with more gold onhis shoulders and sleeves than probably was deposited in the whole U.S. Treasury.His tanned face was in no way marred by his beaked nose. He looked like a man who could lead armies, andhere she was sobbing into his horse.
“I am sorry, sir,”she managed, and scrubbed her hand across her eyes and backed away from his horse as though she had been attempting its theft.
He shook his head and smiled down at her, taking off his lofty hat.“Don’t worry, mydear.I have cried intoCopenhagena few times myself, and not so long ago.”
His words were spoken quietly,so none of the equally gold-braided men who followed him down the steps couldhear.“May I introduceCopenhagen, Miss ... Miss ....”
“HannahWhittierofNantucket,”she said, and held out her hand shyly.
He took it in both his gloved hands.“You are a long way from home,”he said.
Her eyes teared again at his words and without saying anything else, he whipped out a handsomemonogrammedhandkerchief.“PerhapsI should not have mentioned that, Miss Whittier,”he said while she blew her nose.“Obviously I don’t need to remind you of the miles between this dirty city and what I am sure isa more pleasant existence. Here,sit down.”
He indicated the bottom step again and she sat, her eyes on his face. He dusted off the step and joined her, waving on the officers around him.“Gentlemen, find something to occupy yourselves, if you will. MissWhittier, my name isWellesley, Arthur Wellesley.”
She heard Adam’s soft whistle behind her.“Mr. Wellesley?”she asked.
“Not precisely. I command this ragtagarmy, my dear. I am the Viscount ofWellington.”
“Oh, my,”Hannah said, her eyes wide.“I didn’t mean to cry all over thy horse!”
