Page 40 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
There were so many tourists.
They did not understand war.
He did not wish them to.
He wished them a hundred miles away.
At least, having reached Ghent, he could be with Ellen again.
Paul sighed and his hands settled at his waist as he watched Ellen sorting out items to be laundered and passing them to Jennifer. They were to spend four days in Ghent. He was to meet with the other officers in an hour and speak with other regiments and find out how the 52nd fitted within the whole, and obtain their orders before progressing.
He knew Ellen was relieved to have a break from travelling, and he felt that he should say something to reassure her. But he could not apologise for what could not be different, and he did not think she expected him to. She had been stoic and resilient throughout their journey. He had no complaints. It was just that damned tense queasy feeling in his stomach that feared for her and wished to protect her – and it was from things he had no capability to prevent.
‘I shall come with you when you buy supplies, Jennifer,’ Ellen said.
She had changed. She had learned how important it was to plan ahead. She had travelled to Ghent with the other women and he could tell they had been educating her about the next weeks they would spend marching.
‘Is there anything I may fetch you?’ he said at last.
She turned and looked at him, smiling, though it was not the carefree stunning smile he had received at the time they had wed. It was careworn. He smiled back, feeling the same weight she probably felt in her chest. Tonight, he would retire early with her and love her. That would make them both feel better.
‘There is nothing I can think of…’
‘Well, then, if I can be of no assistance here, I shall return and meet with the officers.’
She nodded.
‘Goodbye, Ellen.’ He longed to move forward and kiss her, but Jennifer was still in the room. ‘I will return soon.’
She nodded again.
* * *
Ellen’s hand clasped the edge of the cart to stop herself swaying, so tightly her knuckles were white. She was sitting beside the driver and the lieutenant colonel’s servant. Two of the other wives and Jennifer sat in the back on top of some of the regiment’s supplies.
The cart rocked, jolted and creaked along the muddy track. They had to stop and climb down from it on three occasions today to lessen the weight so the horses could pull the cart out of the mud. She had secured the skirt of her dress by tying a knot at her waist so it would not spoil, but her petticoats were stained with mud and there would be nowhere to wash them. A year ago, she would not have worried, but now every item of clothing was precious; she could not simply buy more.
She had not imagined an army life would be as hard as this, yet it had not even really begun; the regiment were not fighting.
She gritted her teeth as the cart jolted heavily to the left, and she bumped her side. She had not complained to Paul. That would be unfair. He was marching towards a battle, wading through the mud, and striving to keep others moving. She had the luxury of a cart. But she was black and blue with bruises from being thrown about on it, and he knew that, and at night he would kiss all of her bruises in the privacy of their narrow canvas tent.
There were some special moments, though, for instance when they sat about the campfire among his men, the other wives and Jennifer. She would huddle close to Paul, his muscular thigh against her softer one, and, because it was dark and they were wrapped beneath a blanket so no one would see, he would put an arm about her waist.
The conversations around the campfire were unlike any she had known before. Her father would have called their language coarse, but camaraderie ran so easily among the men she did not mind it. Paul would laugh with them; a laugh which seemed to come from low in his stomach. His laughter had become a precious sound.
‘Lieutenant Colonel.’
Ellen jumped a little as one of the women in the back of the cart spoke.
‘Good day, Mistress Porter,’ the lieutenant colonel acknowledged.
The man beside her, who was his servant, looked back. ‘Sir.’
The lieutenant colonel was the only man on horseback, and he often road alongside the cart.
Each time he rode beside them, Ellen’s skin prickled, as if a million beetles crawled over her. She wished he would stay away from her.
She felt his gaze as though his eyes had drilled a hole into her back.
