Page 63 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
Ellen looked at the woman. There were no beds left in the house and there was no space to rest. If she was to sleep, she would have to go back to the lodgings she shared with Paul –perhaps he would be there, waiting for her.She had not even thought of that. ‘Yes. I will return when I can.’ She turned away to fetch her pelisse, leaving Mrs Beard to help the wounded man she had been attending.
Ellen’s heart pounded hard as she hurried through the streets full of men in filthy and bloody uniforms. As she opened the front door, though, she knew he was not within. She did not feel him here. Desolation struck her, and with it came the exhaustion from the hours she had worked.
Too tired to stand anymore, she climbed the stairs to their bedchamber, and washed her hands and face in the warm water that had stood in the jug for days. She took off her pelisse but did not lie on the bed; instead she took up her vigil on the window seat, clutching her knees. Her head rested against the windowpane as sleep crept closer.
She woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door below the window, her body jolting awake. She stood hurriedly. But it could not be Paul. Paul would not have knocked.
She heard a man’s pitch. Outside she saw a horse and two men in the uniform of the 52nd. In an instant she was running from the room.
When she opened the door, the lieutenant colonel stood before her. Behind him the two soldiers stood beside his horse. They all looked weary. Even though she had never liked the lieutenant colonel, compassion burned in her chest. ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Where is my husband? Where is Paul?’
She saw the answer in his eyes before he spoke. ‘Captain Harding died on the field.’
‘No!’The word was screamed; she was unsure if it was aloud or in her head.‘No!’She would not believe. She could not… Darkness crowded in on top of her, stealing her vision, then she dropped.
When Ellen woke she was lying on her bed. The lieutenant colonel was sitting beside her, while the two men dressed in the uniform of Paul’s regiment stood across the room with Mrs Peeters. The room stank of burning feathers. The lieutenant colonel held her hand and rubbed the back of it with his other. ‘Madam…’ he said quietly.
Ellen’s heart raced as the memory of what had been said rushed back.How? How had it happened? How would she live?
‘You have no relatives,’ the lieutenant colonel said. ‘Am I right?’
Ellen nodded. Paul had always insisted they did not speak of her father.
‘Have you some money?’
She shook her head. The lieutenant colonel must know Paul’s wages had remained unpaid for weeks.
‘Do you have anywhere to go then?’
Emptiness and loneliness opened a void inside her. There was not even grief – just an empty space that belonged to Paul.
‘You must come with me then, Mrs Harding.’
Ellen looked at him, unable to think. But then her mind filled with the images of the wounded she had seen over the last few hours. ‘How did Paul die?’
The lieutenant colonel let go of her hand. ‘At the end of the battle the 52nd broke the last surge by the French. In only four minutes of gunfire, I lost one hundred and fifty men. Captain Harding was among them, shot by the French. I believe his death would have been quick.’
She needed to hold Paul – she wanted to feel his strength and warmth, and breathe in the scent of him. But she would never be able to.
‘Paul said I am to seek Captain Montgomery’s help.’
‘I am afraid Captain Montgomery also passed away,’ the lieutenant colonel answered.
Cold horror chilled Ellen’s chest. So many men dead, and –Paul. He was alive in her head, saying goodbye to her, kissing her.How could he never come back?His face hovered in her mind’s eye, youthful and smiling, alive and elemental…
‘Let me take you to my accommodation. Where is your woman? She should pack your things.’
‘She left.’ Ellen’s voice had lost its strength.
‘Then I shall find you another. But for now…’ He looked at Mrs Peeters. ‘Would you pack Mrs Harding’s possessions? I will take her with me and send for them later.’
‘I shall. I will be happy to help you, Mrs Harding.’
‘Come, Mrs Harding. Let me take you under my protection.’ He held out a hand.
Ellen rose, but it was in the guise of a ghost. It was not her who moved. She walked outside with him as though she were in a dream – no, a nightmare.
She was leaving the place she and Paul had lived for weeks – their home. She was deserting him. In the street, she looked back, longing to refuse to leave, but if she did not go with the lieutenant colonel, what else would she do? She had no money.
