Jane’s face came slowly into focus. I must have fainted in the hospital, Carina thought listlessly. Then memory came back and her voice came out in a rasp.
‘Is he dead?
‘Try not to think of Enrico Fola.’
‘Is he dead? Tell me!’
‘I told you yesterday.’ Jane looked puzzled and then her expression cleared. ‘You mean Colonel Mavrone? No, he’s not dead. He walked out of the hospital on his own two feet.’
Carina blinked, trying to take in her words. ‘I thought they’d taken him away …’
‘He regained consciousness and discharged himself. Dr Calvi came to tell you but you collapsed.’
The sun came through the window and relief was choked by pain. Ben had survived, but Enrico was dead. Dear, honourable Enrico. Why him of all men? Carina thought of his beautiful hands and eyes like pools of deep water. Poor darling, little Gabriella. She had known with such terrible certainty and prayed that she was wrong. Premonition was not a gift. It was an affliction and in the old days she would have been burned as a witch.
She was aware of Jane sitting with her back to the window, her needle moving in and out of the material as she repaired an apron. For a long time, neither of them spoke. Then Jane folded her mending and looked across the room.
‘You’re not allowed in the hospital today. I’m staying here until lunchtime. You must keep quiet this afternoon.’
After Jane had gone, Carina slept again and later felt strong enough to get up. She washed and went through to the kitchen where she found Jessie. She had come to collect oranges for the hospital and Carina helped her gather them from the larder.
Jessie pinched the oranges with her fingers, picking out the ripest. ‘Head injuries are always unpredictable. Colonel Mavrone should have stayed where he was. Alberto says he’s gone off to lick his wounds in private.’
Jessie’s apron was full and she looked Carina in the face. ‘You were right. He did recognise you. He asked Dr Calvi what you were doing in the hospital.’
Ben had frightened her out of her mind, but he was alive and Enrico was dead. Carina wanted to cry but her eyes had burned dry, her grief too deep for tears. There was so much to do in the hospital and she returned to work the next day. Every time she nursed a dying soldier, she imagined it was Enrico and her distress was fuelled by silent anger. She believed in the revolution – but too many men had died. What cause on God’s earth could be worth such terrible suffering? Those who fell on the battlefield were fortunate compared to the wretches who lingered here. For that small mercy granted Enrico, Carina was grateful, but for the rest she felt only sorrow.
A week later Dr Bernadotti arrived at the hospital and made an announcement.
‘General Garibaldi has negotiated the evacuation of enemy forces from Messina! All of Sicily is liberated at last! The sacrifice of our gallant soldiers has not been in vain!’
Everyone cheered the doctor in the dark refectory that afternoon. Soldiers with amputated arms and legs shouted ‘Bravo!’ from their straw pallets and even the weakest whispered a faint hurrah. Faces emaciated by pain brightened and men on crutches waved one feebly in the air. Garibaldi’s victory lifted spirits as no amount of nursing could and, for the first time, Jessie and Carina left the hospital early.
The village was deserted and they strolled home, swinging their nursing hats by the ribbons.
‘You and Jane have proved excellent nurses. I’m proud of you both.’
‘Wait for us, ladies!’ Alberto Mario shouted from behind them. He caught up and there at his side was Ben, with a clean bandage over his wound and a bruise like an ink stain spread across his forehead.
‘We missed you at the hospital. I wanted to thank you.’ Ben’s gaze went from Carina to Jessie and Alberto. ‘May I speak with Carina in private?’
The village square had a stone ledge along one side and Ben led her over to sit under an oriental plane with thick leaves that blocked out the sun.
‘I’m very sorry to hear about Enrico.’ He put his arm round her shoulders. ‘He was a fine man and a brave soldier.’
Unshed tears choked her and Carina was beyond utterance. Tremors started to move up through her abdomen and down her arms. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps and Ben held her to him until the paroxysms ceased.
She sat up and smoothed back her hair, patting it flat against her head.
‘Enrico was in love with my cousin,’ she said, wiping a hand across her face. ‘Gabriella is in Naples. Will they publish lists of casualties over there?’
‘To the last name, and invent many more besides. Sadly, your cousin will find out soon enough.’
‘How did Enrico die?’
‘He fell in the first cavalry charge. He is buried with our other brave men who died in the battle.’
From somewhere in the distance, Carina heard the bray of a donkey and cartwheels on cobbles. It was unbearable to think of Enrico buried in a mass grave. She half expected him to walk round the corner and greet her with his quick smile. Turning her head, she noticed Ben was pale beneath his tan and touched his cheek.
‘I was afraid I might lose you as well.’
‘It will take more than a knock on the head to finish me off.’ Ben took her hand, his fingers moving from her wrist to her elbow in long low sweeps. ‘I came to know Enrico well this last month. He said you were responsible for his release from prison. He implied you even went so far as to appeal to Prince Scalia.’
Max Corso must have told Enrico, Carina thought. The risk she had taken had been for nothing and Ben must believe her because if he didn’t, she would get up and leave.
‘Enrico would have died if he’d stayed in the Vacaria. Prince Scalia was the only person who could save him. I know he’s your enemy, but I had no choice.’
‘And what did Scalia demand in return?’
‘He asked me to find out Garibaldi’s plans from the British Consul. As it turned out, events moved so fast he found out without my help.’
‘It was a noble and brave act, Carina. There’s nothing more terrible than to rot to death in prison. Enrico died with honour. I hope that may be some small consolation for your cousin.’
Ben’s brooding gaze went through and beyond her. His hand stilled and Carina knew he was thinking of Alexander. They were identical twins. Alex would have been the same height as Ben with dark hair and blue eyes. Did he talk in the same way and move with the same grace? Would she have been able to tell them apart? Alexander. Monteleone. Bianca … She had suppressed her suspicions for so long, why did she have to think of Bianca Scalia now? I must ask Ben, Carina decided. We love each other and I trust him to tell me the truth. It was a delicate question and she decided to begin with Alex.
‘Please tell me about your brother.’
‘Alex was the steady, sensible one.’ Ben’s gaze came back to her. ‘He was a scholar and hoped to become a teacher. He was more of a gentleman than myself. You’d have liked him.’
‘Would he have approved of me?’
‘I dare say he would. He had an eye for a beautiful woman – that was one weakness we shared.’
Ben let go of her hand and cupped his palm around the nape of her neck. He kissed her gently and, when he drew back, there was a glow like a small flame in the depths of his eyes.
‘I couldn’t believe it was you in the hospital. I dreamt you were an angel sent from heaven to collect me.’
‘Garibaldi asked me to assist the medical corps.’
‘Well, I’m glad he persuaded you to forget your other idea. We lost three of our best couriers in the battle.’
If she told him of Garibaldi’s promise, they would have a quarrel. Ben was recovering from a serious injury and she must not upset him. How could she explain she had no vocation for nursing – that the only thing she wanted was to be with him? Bianca Scalia was put aside and she swung to a different tack.
‘Stars above, Ben! How could you disappear from the hospital like that? You were at death’s door.’
‘Do you think I’d have survived long in there?’
Soon Ben would re-join his regiment, Carina thought. He could be taken as swiftly and cruelly as Enrico. She would rather die than be without him and this might be her only chance. She must ask him now.
‘Please will you take me with you when leave?’
His eyebrows went up and Carina’s resolve wavered. Ben was studying her face in that disconcerting way of his, his gaze penetrating and guarded. What else could she say? She had seen the desperate faces of women searching for names of loved ones on casualty lists and would not be one of them.
‘I want to be close to those I love, not laying out their corpses.’
Ben looked down at his scuffed boots and spoke without looking up. ‘I’m to lead an advance party across the Straits. Garibaldi is determined never to suffer such heavy losses again. The main army will only follow once we’ve secured a position on the mainland. You know I cannot take you with me.’
‘Then I’ll cross over with General Garibaldi.’
‘You will travel with Jessie Mario and the ambulances.’
‘Relief nurses arrive from Palermo tomorrow and I’m released from my duties.’
‘Please, my darling, we can’t go through this again.’ Ben raised his head and looked at her through tired eyes. ‘Believe me, there’s nothing to be gained by competing with Lamartine for Garibaldi’s favours.’
It was an unnecessary jibe and Carina stood up. Ben came to his feet and put his hands on her shoulders.
‘War’s no time to make commitments, my love.’ There was both frustration and tenderness in his voice.’ God willing, the Pioneers will gain the headland successfully. I promise we will be together in Italy. Is that good enough for you?’
Everything she had fought for so long was in the balance but they must not have an argument. If Ben couldn’t take her, then she had to manage this by herself. Somehow, she must find a way to follow him and soon Greta would be here to help her.
A group of people strolled into the square and caught Carina’s attention because of their smart clothes. They looked like foreign tourists. One of them seemed to be pointing towards her. Then a young man detached himself from the group and began to walk across the square. He was dressed in the finest broadcloth jacket and peg top trousers Carina had seen since leaving London. As he broke into a run, her heart stopped. She forgot Ben was standing beside her and waiting for her answer. Her mind went blank as Harry Carstairs swept her up in his arms and spun her round.
‘Your poem was in The Times! You’re famous, Carrie! You’ve been away long enough and are free to come home!’