Page 27 of Gallant Waif
She shivered and continued, “It was the most terrifying feeling…Later, I learned that the officer, Henri, had found me wandering after Salamanca. I had been wounded—on the head.” Her hand crept unconsciously to the scar almost hidden by her hairline. “Apparently I was unable to remember my name or anything, although he knew, of course, that I was English. I became his prisoner…and his mistress.”
Kate flushed at the small sound from Lady Cahill. She could not look at the old lady. Her hands began their intricate pleating again.
“I discovered that for the last month I had lived with him, slept with him in his tent…” Kate swallowed in embarrassment, and forced the words out “…living as man and wife.” She flushed a darker rose colour and added, “I know it was true—I remember it. You must not think he was a totally wicked man—in his own way, I think he was fond of me…but I swear to you I did not realise what had happened until a month after Salamanca…when it was too late.”
She took a deep shaky breath and continued, determined to get it all out in the open. “In Lisbon afterwards they called me the Frenchman’s whore…and a traitress.”
Lady Cahill made a shocked sound.
“Traitress, because I’d tended the wounds of French soldiers. I have some small skill with injuries, you see. And though they were the enemy I see no wrong in what I did. They were only men, like our men—tired, hungry, in pain, and longing to be with their loved ones, not fighting this dreadful war. That part, I do not regret…”
She shrugged, her eyes downcast. “So, now you know.”
The material of her skirt was crushed and twisted. Her voice rose again in distress. “But I didnotconsent to be Henri’s mistress—he told me he was myhusbandand Ibelievedhim. I found a ring on my finger, though I did not know how it got there. I could not even remember my own name at the time, and so I believed him! He was very convincing. He said I was his English wife. I never knowingly—”
“Hush now, child! Do not distress yourself. I don’t doubt your word,” interrupted Lady Cahill
Huge, swimming grey-green eyes regarded her doubtfully.
“Oh, tush, child,” the old lady said gruffly, patting Kate’s knee. “As if I did not know you are the soul of honour.”
Kate inhaled, a long, tremulous breath. Tears trembled on her lashes. “Then you are very singular, ma’am, for few others believed me. They thought me a wanton, a liar, a traitress.”
“Lud, child. Anyone with a grain of sense could see you are none of those. As far as I am concerned, you did nothing wrong. And I respect you for tending their wounded. Tell me, how did you return to English territory?”
“Well, as I said, my memory came back to me when Henri was interrogating English prisoners—perhaps it was the sound of English being spoken that caused it to return. It took me a day or two to find out what happened and make my plans to escape. Then I stole a horse and rode into Allied territory. It was not difficult to pass from behind the French lines—a woman is not so suspect as a man.” She flushed. “But you see why I cannot possibly enter society, or marry.”
“I see nothing of the sort,” said Lady Cahill. “There is no reason for anyone to know of this—”
“It is a matter of public record,” said Kate regretfully. “I returned to the English forces almost six weeks after my father’s death. Naturally I was interviewed, in case I was a spy. Some of the officers who interviewed me didn’t believe I’d lost my memory. Others were only interested in what I could tell them about the French. It was supposed to be kept secret, but when I reached Lisbon everybody there knew the worst,” she concluded bitterly.
There was a long silence. “It is not mere wilfulness or false pride preventing me from seeking a husband, you know,” Kate added. “Ever since I was a little girl I’ve dreamt of my wedding day, waited for the man whom I could love for ever…and played with other people’s children, preparing myself for the day when I had children of my own.” She smoothed twisted fabric with unknowing hands.
“I have put this dream away…butnotof my own volition.”
Lady Cahill opened her mouth to argue, but Kate continued, “In Lisbon I received a taste of what would face me if I ever again tried to enter society. Ma’am, I was shunned, reviled…evenspaton—by English ladies, some of whom I’d regarded as friends…” Her throat swelled and tightened, remembering whispers and sidelong glances, prurient curiosity and outright hostility.
“And men whom I thought I knew, whom I thought were decent Christian gentlemen, tried totouchme, made obscene suggestions.”The Frenchman’s whore—she was fair game.
“Even Harry…my betrothed…” Kate shuddered. Harry’s eyes had run over her body in a way they never had before. The realisation had entered Kate’s heart like a blade of ice. He was no different from the rest.
“It was unspeakably vile…and I could not bear to face it again.” She looked wearily at Lady Cahill. “That is why I cannot accept your very kind offer, why I cannot seek a husband or go about in society. I could not bear to meet someone who knows what happened.”
She tried to smile. “It is not so very bad, you know. I cannot miss what I’ve never had. I’ve not had the sort of upbringing that other girls have. And I’m young and healthy and—” she wiped her eyes “—generally not such a dreadful watering pot. If I could only find a position as a children’s nurse or companion…You could help me with that, could you not?”
Lady Cahill was deeply moved. Kate had been badly wounded, she could see that. There was no point in pushing her to agree to any plans at present. She was still too vulnerable to risk her heart and her hopes again—she needed time to recover. Lady Cahill would help Kate, but not to a position as a children’s nurse. No, if an old woman had any say in the matter, Maria Delacombe’s child would have her dream. She reached out and took Kate’s hand in a tight grasp.
“Of course I will help you, child. Try to put the whole horrid business behind you. You found yourself in a difficult situation, but you conducted yourself with honour as a true Christian lady. I am sure that both your father and your mother would have been very proud of you. I know I am.”
Tears spilled from Kate’s eyes. Kindness, she suddenly found, was so much harder to withstand than cruelty. The old woman gathered the girl into her arms and held her tightly for a moment or two.
“Lady Cahill, you see—”
“I see nothing at all at the moment,” Lady Cahill interrupted, wiping her eyes. “This dratted face paint has run and I refuse to do or say another word until it is repaired. Fetch my maid to me, and in the meantime go and wash your face and comb your hair. Return to me in twenty minutes.”
Kate stared at her, dumbfounded. Suddenly laughter began to well up inside her and she sat back and laughed until the tears came again.
Sympathy and warm, wicked humour gleamed back at her from the admittedly smudged face of the old woman. “That’s right, my girl. A good cry and a good laugh. That’s what the doctor ordered. Now,” she continued briskly, “fetch Smithers to me and go and wash your face. You look a sight!”
