Darcy followed a corporal down a red-carpeted hallway of a posh hotel that was now a Boulogne army hospital.
“Here you are, sir.” The young man stepped aside. “Dr. Hadow’s office.”
“Darcy!” Richard rose in greeting. “Meet Colonel Hadow, the hospital’s commanding officer.”
Darcy saluted.
“Hadow runs one of the tightest ships on the coast. Whatever you want to know about managing a medical facility, Hadow’s your man.”
“At ease, Captain.” The colonel moved towards the door and motioned Darcy to the armchair he’d just vacated. “After your cousin picks your brain this evening, I’ll fill it with more mush tomorrow.” He cut his eyes to Richard with a cheeky grin.
Darcy nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
When the colonel closed the door behind him, Darcy folded himself into the chair.
“So how’s life at The Ritz?” Richard settled back into his seat and lit a Gold Flake.
Darcy crossed his legs and perched his cap on his knee. “I believe in my time there I’ve sufficiently acquainted myself and made some positive changes. Things are running much more smoothly.”
“What of intelligence?”
“I see no connection to Wickham. It appears he did an admirable job in sanitation and was well liked. Seems he kept his nose uncharacteristically clean. He’s been gone nearly a year. And the fact that several prisoner escapes and other incidents have taken place in his absence, all further suggest his lack of involvement.”
“Humph.” Richard quirked his head in disbelief.
“Surprising, I know. However, suspicions of a mole surfaced not long after his arrival. I fully expected his trail would quickly lead to the traitor, but thus far I’ve met a dead end.”
Richard blew out a cloud of smoke. “Here’s a list of all the personnel who rotated through there in the last eighteen months.” Richard slapped a folder on the desk between them. “I’ll bet we’re looking for more than one mole. It could be anyone—officers, orderlies, even the charming Frenchman.”
“I have reason to suspect the local washerwoman may be involved. After I’ve had a chance to work through some of these other details, I plan to take over the twice-weekly laundry route. It’s only a short drive from the boys’ school ward and will give me an excuse to observe her more closely. I’ve also got my eye on a canal and windmill not far from the Ritz.”
“Then why have I not received any sketches?” Richard lowered his chin and bored his eyes into Darcy’s as he flicked his ashes.
Darcy stared right back. “I’ve hardly had opportunity to sit in the sun drawing pretty pictures. The hospital is an enormous operation to run. And thanks to Weekes’ ineptitude, I feel rather alone in the endeavour. I’ve had to restructure nearly every procedure, not to mention acquaint myself with a large staff, and understand the workings of a field hospital. It’s been no small task.”
Richard nodded sympathetically. “Point well taken. But I want those sketches. I need to show General Pommier some tangible progress. There’s talk that The Ritz will be turned over to the Canadians as the summer offensive gets under way. That gives some urgency to our task. Once our party leaves, the trail could turn cold.”
Darcy sighed. What Richard asked seemed impossible.
“How’s Cowart?” Smoke puffed out with each word.
“As expected.” Darcy huffed and shook his head. “You are aware that his Don Juan exploit landed him in one of our beds for several weeks. Since then he’s assisted in surgery a few times, but mostly he’s in the way. I’m constantly apprehensive about what he might do or say. If that’s not enough, I have to contend with Miss Bennet gallivanting about the countryside. I warned her of the dangers, but you know how stubborn she is.”
Richard chuckled. “Ah, still charming as ever.”
“In a manner of speaking, you could say so.” Darcy shifted in his chair. If Richard only knew....
“A woman of independent mind.” Richard gestured with his cigarette.
“I’d say ignorantly young and naïve.”
“Are you sure it isn’t more than that? From my observation of her at Aunt Catherine’s last Easter, she’s no man’s fool. We can’t rule her out as a suspect.”
Darcy nodded in agreement then intentionally changed the subject. “The shipments of supplies for the summer offensive have begun to arrive.”
“Good.” Richard sat back. “Whatever Haig has planned must be on a massive scale. I’ve never seen such a concentration of troops and equipment.”
“I was told to prepare for up to a thousand casualties—a staggering number to process in a day. Allocating space will be one of my first priorities upon my return.”
“Speaking of your return, you mentioned attending Bingley’s wedding tomorrow evening before returning on Friday. Isn’t he to wed Miss Bennet’s elder sister?”
“He is.”
“Small world.” Richard shook his head. “I assume Elizabeth will be in attendance. Did she accompany you on the train?”
Darcy shook his head. “She’s arriving tomorrow. Volunteered to ride along in an ambulance to keep the stump of an amputee elevated.”
“How noble.” Richard’s focus became lost in the past. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that girl again. I can still see the expression on Aunt Catherine’s face when she learnt the Bennets never had a governess.” He puffed out a chuckle and returned his attention to Darcy. “Amazing isn’t it, how your paths have crossed again?”
Amazing indeed....
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...” Elizabeth stood beside Jane in the makeshift chapel on the edge of the Boulogne bluff as the sun cast its waning rays upon the couple. A tear formed at the corner of her eye. Although the guests were few and the altar nothing more than a stack of crates draped in a shawl, it didn’t matter. The love between Charles and Jane filled the room.
In spite of her borrowed wedding dress and yellowing veil, Jane was as glowing as the lilies were lovely in her bouquet and hair. Elizabeth touched her garnet cross. Oh, how she wished her family could be here—especially her mother! She could hear her voice now. ...Oh, Jane, what lovely motorcars and jewels you shall have. Did you say he has eight thousand a year?
Elizabeth smiled and gently ticked her head while she watched the corner of Charles’ face beaming at Jane. No words were needed to express his affection for his bride.
How providential that she and Jane were sent to Boulogne at just the time Charles was stationed there. Less than a year ago things appeared so bleak. They could never have dreamt that seeking VAD positions overseas as a means to pay for their mother’s care would turn out so well.
...beauty from ashes. Elizabeth smiled to herself. Yes, beauty had certainly risen from Jane’s ashes.
“With this ring I thee wed...” Charles leaned forward and slid the gold band onto Jane’s finger, exposing Captain Darcy behind him, looking on.
Elizabeth tilted her head and fixed her eyes on the captain. An endearing softness played about his eyes, and a gentle smile replaced the scowl he generally wore. He was strikingly handsome—especially when he smiled. What would it be like to have him gaze into her eyes the way Charles adoringly gazed at Jane? The thought sent a tingle down her spine as she envisioned him beaming at her draped in a white gown, promising to become his wife.
When his eyes locked with hers, Elizabeth sucked in a breath and diverted her focus, certain her cheeks were blooming in red.
After the service and a short reception, the nurses and orderlies in attendance hurried to their evening shift. Jane hugged her sister. “Oh, Lizzy, I’m so glad you could come.”
“Me too. It was lovely.” Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand.
“Lizzy, be kind to Darcy. Without him, I’m not sure I’d be marrying Charles today. It was he who arranged for us to come to Boulogne.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Charles let it slip.”
“I can see why he would have made arrangements for you—after what he did, he owed it to you. But why would he go to the trouble for me?”
“Oh, Lizzy, can’t you see?” Her sister’s eyes implored her. “Because he cares for you—deeply. He must have gone to extraordinary lengths to get around the age regulation.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say.
“My darling angel! There you are.” Charles appeared behind Jane and wrapped his arms around her. “A splendid party indeed, but, my dear, our train will not wait.” He kissed her cheek. “Elizabeth,” he met her eyes, “we’re delighted you could share our happy occasion, but we must be off.”
Lizzy embraced her sister one last time then watched the couple walk away. Jane’s words rang in her ears ...he cares for you. Surely she was mistaken. If Darcy cared, why was he so cold and aloof?
Her thoughts returned to their gruff conversation at the canal. He’d mentioned a letter explaining his actions against Jane and Wickham. Had she missed something? She would ask him about it when they returned. But now it was getting dark, and she needed to return to her hotel.
Just after luncheon the next day the town’s clock tower chimed the hour, and Elizabeth hastened her steps. The train was expected in a quarter of an hour.
Rounding the corner to the station platform, she met a sea of Tommies surrounded by their kitbags and equipment. Hadn’t Sapper said something about it being a hospital train? She must have misunderstood.
She scanned the crowd. Acrid clouds of cigarette smoke mixed with the hum of conversation and laughter. Hugging her carpetbag, she pressed her way through the clusters of grimy soldiers, their odour announcing that it had been some time since their last baths.
At last she located the rail transport officer seated behind a small window surrounded by the usual flyers warning about spies. “Excuse me, sir. I am Elizabeth Bennet. Arrangements have been made for me to take this train to Poperinghe.”
The officer’s eyes rose from his papers, and he scanned her with an unconvinced quirk of his brow. “Look, lass, this here’s a military transport, and I’ve got a hundred extra men to send up the line on the next train. I don’t know anythin’ about addin’ a woman to the lot. Where are y’er papers? Who made the so-called arrangement?”
“Ah.... Sapper.” As soon as she said it, she winced. How ridiculous she sounded! She didn’t even know his real name.
“Sapper?” The Scotsman huffed. “Nearly every chap in the Royal Engineers is called a sapper. Stop wastin’ me time and get on with ya’.”
“Aye, Robertson, let ‘er on. We haven’t seen one this pretty in months.” Elizabeth turned and smiled at the kilted Scot pressing in behind her.
“She can have my seat!” chimed in another.
“Put her next to me, and I’ll give you two francs and a half-package of Woodbines.” A handsome Tommy thrust the bribe over her shoulder to the window’s edge and winked at her.
The clerk broke into a smile and snatched the loot. “Who’s to stop her if she slips aboard whilst I’m not lookin’?”
A cheer rose up from the men surrounding her, and she found herself swept into a cluster of soldiers pelting her with catcalls and whistles.
“If Sherman sits on one side, I get the other.”
“Then I’ll take the front side.”
“And I’ll take her backside!”
The group roared with laughter, and a ripple of fear shivered down Elizabeth’s spine. There was no way she would ride all the way to Poperinghe with this mob. Her eyes scanned the pack for an escape route.
“I’ll settle for a kiss, lassie.” She jerked her arm back from a tug on her sleeve.
“Ah, she’s a feisty one!”
“Just the way I like ‘em!”
Another whoop of laughter and whistles rose from the circle of smudged and rumpled Tommies. Desperate to get away, she pressed her shoulder between two muddied uniforms, but the ring of khaki only constricted closer. She twisted and jerked away from hands that reached out, brushing and grabbing her carpetbag and dress.
Just as she opened her mouth to yell for help, a booming voice rang out. “Men, atten—sion!”
Their jest vaporised into silence as the faction snapped a salute.
Elizabeth craned her neck to see who had brought the men under control. The uniforms on her left began to ripple and then split as the telltale clank of hobnail boots on the cobbles rose above the silence. A peaked hat bobbed just above the heads of those around her, and suddenly Captain Darcy emerged from the pack.
“I don’t believe this is your train, miss. May I escort you to the proper transport?” His voice was composed as he offered his arm.
Relief washed over her, though his flashing eyes told her he was livid. She bolstered her quivering knees and took his arm. “Y-Yes. Thank you, Captain.” She’d never been so glad to see someone she despised.
Tension radiated from the captain as he escorted her through the hordes. Once outside the throng, the train’s whistle announced its arrival, springing the men to life once again. Darcy glanced over his shoulder, then turned back and released a heavy breath. “Did they harm you?”
“No.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. Was his warning about her venturing out alone ringing in his ears? It was certainly thundering in hers.
“I won’t ask what you were thinking, attempting to share a transport train, but I assume you welcomed my assistance.”
“Yes, thank you.” She grunted inwardly, hating to admit that she needed his help.
“I have authorisation to return on a hospital train going up the line. I could arrange for you to accompany me if you’d like.”
“It appears I have no other choice.”
“The train is scheduled to unload patients at the harbour in three hours. In the meantime I plan to visit the quayside shops. Would you care to join me? I could carry your bag.”
“N-no. Thank you.” She pulled her carpetbag closer. “I’d prefer a walk on the beach.”
His eyes darted to hers.
“Yes, yes.” She nodded. “I won’t wander far or get myself into trouble.”
He released a frustrated breath. “Very well then. Meet me at the Maritime Station at four o’clock.”
Making her way through town down to the shoreline, her mind whirred as her heels tapped on the cobbles. Could she have escaped the mob? Would they have hurt her? What would have happened had Captain Darcy not rescued her? She shuddered. But what brought him to Boulogne’s Central Station? Had he somehow known she was there? She was too embarrassed to ask.
A trio of jovial Tommies approached, and she instinctively stiffened, but they passed by without a second glance. She released a relieved breath. She probably should have gone with the captain. Oh, but how she hated depending on a man—especially that one!
Darcy swallowed the last of his tea at the outdoor cafe amidst tables of jovial Tommies and their acrid clouds of cigarette smoke. He had originally planned to depart on a hospital train several hours earlier, but when the rail transport officer asked about a woman also going to Poperinghe, Darcy became alarmed. An inquiry at her hotel made him wonder if she had gone to the wrong station. The jeering Tommies at Central confirmed his suspicion.
He checked his watch and took a final glance down the waterfront that stretched towards the beach. Although bustling with khaki uniforms, there was no sight of Elizabeth.
Yes, yes. He hated to admit it, but he’d chosen the eatery hoping she might arrive early so they could share a bite to eat before their journey. Now she was late.
He rose to his feet and tucked his newspaper under his arm. Fixing his gaze on the towering steamer ahead, he headed down the wharf protruding before him. Over the last half an hour, he’d tracked the progress of orderlies at the station as they transferred the last of the wounded from the hospital train to the steamer ship bound for Blighty. Sisters now appeared at the compartment doors fluffing pillows and sweeping out dirt. The locomotive would depart as soon as the supplies piled on handcarts were loaded aboard.
Dodging carts and lorries, he glanced behind him. Where was she? She’d looked so scared when he broke through the circle of taunting soldiers earlier, he should have insisted she accompany him. Boulogne was a city teeming with transient military men, and anything could have happened to her since their parting. For this reason, VADs always travelled in groups—but not Elizabeth. Damn, she was obstinate! He raked a hand through his hair.
He nodded to the station officer whom he had spoken with earlier and seated himself on a bench. He impatiently tapped his foot and fixed his eyes down the pier. Checking his watch again, he rose. Was she coming? Most of the compartment doors were now closed, and several Sisters stood chatting on the quayside.
The rail transport officer passed by pushing a cart laden with soiled sheets. “Your valise is in the rail carriage just behind the engine, Captain. It won’t be long now. We’re waiting on the Sisters’ laundry and postbag. Is your lady friend coming?”
“I expect her at any moment.” Darcy pasted on a smile, hoping he was right.
He absently rolled the newspaper and rapped it nervously in his palm as he scanned the wharf.
A patch of colour disappeared behind an ambulance. Was that her? He snapped his head to see around the wagon. No. He released another frustrated breath and checked his watch again. Ten minutes past four.
Squeals of glee rose from the Sisters as several canvas bags were tossed from a lorry. Bah! He threw up his hands in defeat. He’d already extricated her from one predicament today, and he wasn’t her nanny. If she refused to act reasonably, he couldn’t be responsible.
He smacked the newspaper into his hand and turned towards the train. Elizabeth hadn’t the slightest inkling of fondness for him, so why did he bother? Damn, it was hard to nullify his emotions! He clenched his teeth recommitting to his vow: No comrades, no dog, and no woman!
Elizabeth quickened her pace down the wharf. The captain had said to meet him at four o’clock, and she was late. After the fiasco at the other station, she’d hoped to enjoy a leisurely afternoon at the seaside. Instead she’d been stunned by more shocking news. On the beach she’d bumped into Sister Hardy, the nurse so kind to her during her brief stint as a VAD in Boulogne. The poor girl was nearly shaking with fear. When Elizabeth finally coaxed her into talking, the girl confessed she was being sent home. She’d been caught in an indiscretion—with none other than Lieutenant George Wickham! In between sobs, Sister Hardy revealed that once, when Wickham had drunk too much, he’d mentioned his association with Elizabeth’s sister Lydia in Belgium the year before. From the bits of information, Elizabeth began to suspect the lieutenant might know more about Lydia’s disappearance than he’d led her to believe.
Her head was still spinning when she reached the hospital train. “Captain!” She called out breathlessly as he was about to step aboard.
“Where have you been?” he barked, whirling around. “I told you to be here at four o’clock. Trains wait for no one.”
His glower and growling instantly set her on edge. “I was—” The train’s whistle and the hiss of the engine smothered her words.
He grasped her upper arm and thrust her through the cloud of white smoke. “Hurry up or we’ll be left behind!”
Elizabeth jerked her arm away and stumbled aboard with her bag. He was so gruff! No excuse for her tardiness was good enough for him. She would be wasting her breath trying to explain herself.
She settled on the bunk seat opposite him to avoid sitting beside him. Unfortunately, she had now destined herself for something worse—looking at him. So much for her intention to pass the journey with as little acknowledgement of him as possible.
An amplified silence hung between them, louder than the monotonous chugging of the train. He snapped open his newspaper, obviously still miffed. Elizabeth ignored him, trying to carry on as if she were alone, but all she could think about was how impossible it was to ignore him. Two issues had recently come to light, and both concerned him. What should she do? Did she really think she could remain silent all the way to Poperinghe? Probably not. Besides, what did she have to lose? Things could hardly get any worse between them. She would clear the air.
Elizabeth drew herself up. “Jane told me how you arranged for us to come to France and serve at the hospital with Charles.” Her words jolted the palpable chasm between them.
He nodded in an acknowledgement, but his eyes remained fixed on his newspaper.
“Thank you.” She jutted her chin out. “But it was high handed and presumptuous of you to have separated them in the first place.”
Darcy lowered the paper and met her gaze, his face still hard as stone. “You are correct, it was wrong of me. But it was done with the best of intentions. At the time, I believed his attachment was stronger than hers. By removing him from Netherfield, I thought I was doing a service for a friend. When I learnt of my error, I did my best to make amends for my mistake.”
Elizabeth shifted her focus away, and silence hung between them again. It was true that Jane kept her feelings closely guarded. And his conclusion was not an illogical one. But how dare he act so underhandedly!
Darcy had resumed his perusal, and she watched the countryside passing out the window. At the canal he mentioned a letter of explanation regarding Jane and Wickham. What about Wickham? She doubted he had a plausible excuse for denying the living his father had promised to the lieutenant. But what if he did have a reasonable explanation—especially after what she had learnt from Sister Hardy? Was she willing to consider one?
Eventually the suspense got the better of her, and she blurted out, “You said there was a letter. If you will tell me, I am willing to hear your defence for your treatment of Lieutenant Wickham.”
“Mr. Wickham,” he spat, lowering the newsprint. “That man is intent on ruining my family. I gave him a thousand pounds as promised by my father and then another three thousand in lieu of the curacy at Kympton, which he claimed he didn’t want. Three years later Wickham was back again, imposing upon my generosity. When I refused, he plotted revenge by arranging to run off with my sister while on holiday. The scheme was only foiled by sheer coincidence in my fortuitous arrival there. I had intended to surprise her, and surprise her I did—or I should say I surprised George Wickham. At the time, Georgiana was only fifteen years old and yet to learn the ways of a rogue like George. Wickham, Miss Bennet, is about money he doesn’t earn and the virtue of young girls which he steals with a flattering tongue and deception.”
Elizabeth sat stunned. Could it be true? Her thoughts raced back to what she knew of the lieutenant. Suddenly it all made sense—the reason for his absence at the Netherfield ball and his abrupt shift in attention to Mary King when she suddenly came into a fortune. And with what Lieutenant Wickham had done to Miss Hardy.... She dipped her head. “I’m sorry for your sister. And sorry I misjudged you.”
“Perhaps we might behave in a civil manner towards one another now that our work binds us in such close proximity.” Then, with a scowl he pinned her with his gaze. “But rest assured, I no longer foster any foolish notions of love and shall never trouble you in that regard again.”
Her ire flared. “Good. I’m glad we understand one another.” She looked away, signalling the end of the conversation.
As they rode on in silence, Elizabeth took up her book but was unable to shut out his words. Her anger at him still burnt, but perhaps not so brightly as she considered her own actions. She had prided herself in being a sound judge of character, but in the case of Lieutenant Wickham, she had been very wrong. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing to be sure. Was it possible that Darcy wasn’t the villain she’d made him out to be? Had she nurtured a particular disdain of him merely because he’d wounded her vanity at the Meryton Assembly?
She jutted her jaw and released a tattered breath. Whatever the case, he was still repugnant and ill-tempered. Obviously Jane had been wrong. Even if he once cared for her, he didn’t now, though he needn’t have said so. He was so cold towards everyone that it was clear he fostered no sentiments of affection for anyone, except perhaps his sister.
She rested her head back and closed her eyes.
Some time later Elizabeth awakened to find Darcy hunched over, backing away from her looking like a child caught stealing a biscuit.
“Ah...your head,” he gestured awkwardly as he sat down, “was falling to the side. I tried to prop it up.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile at his discomfiture. “Thank you.” She patted the pillow that had fallen beside her.
“I’m sorry I woke you.” With a sheepish nod, he retreated behind a small newspaper.
Elizabeth sat up to find the daylight waning and her stomach confirming the evening hour. They rode in silence for several minutes before Darcy sniggered.
“What’s so funny?”
“Wipers Times—trench newspaper.” He held out the periodical. “The boys in Ypres have a special talent for finding humour in something that is really not funny at all.”
“Now you’ve aroused my curiosity.”
“I’m not sure you’d want to hear.”
“Try me.” She was giggling now.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He drew a breath and read in a dramatic voice:
There was a young girl of the Somme,
Who sat on a number five bomb,
She thought ‘twas a dud ‘un,
But it went off sudden-
Her exit she made with aplomb!
Elizabeth pressed a hand over her mouth in shock but couldn’t help but laugh aloud. “Is it all like that?”
Their conversation drifted from the amusing trench paper to more serious literary works. As twilight descended an hour later, they were still engaged in a spirited debate whether “Paradise Lost” was literary genius or fraught with flaws.
Elizabeth had to admit she enjoyed herself—and him.
Maybe he wasn’t the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry after all.