manservant waited at the bottom step.
The captain faltered. Seizing the banister, he bent slightly as if seized with pain.
‘Captain!’ Marian hurried to him, but the manservant reached him first and assisted him the rest of the way.
Sir Roger and Lady Fenton came to the top of the stairs.
Marian looked back at them. ‘You heartless people. Can you not see he is wounded? A Frenchman’s musket ball went through him, and still he helped me return to you. He said he’d return me safely home .’ She choked back an angry sob.
She turned to the manservant. ‘He has no place to stay.’
The man’s expression was sympathetic.
The captain waved them off. ‘I am quite back to rights again.’
Marian glared at the Fentons. ‘He must stay here as well. Otherwise he will be on the streets like the others.’
‘It is not our concern,’ said Lady Fenton.
‘Now, dear…’ Sir Roger looked uncertain.
The manservant spoke up. ‘If I may be so bold, sir. This soldier may use my bed and I’ll make up a cot for myself.’
‘Very well.’ Sir Roger looked relieved. ‘Take him below. He may stay.’
The Captain did not protest when the man offered his shoulder to assist him. Marian watched them make their way to the door down to the servants’ quarters. The manservant glanced back at her. ‘Do not fret, miss. I’ll see he is well tended.’
She waited until they closed the door behind them before climbing the stairs to the room where she once so happily spent her nights. When she passed Sir Roger and Lady Fenton on the first landing, she refused to even look at them. Her room was one flight up, but she deliberately set a slow pace.Let them not see the distress burning inside her. When she reached the room, she still did not hurry.
After she closed the door behind her she leaned against it for a moment. By God, she would not give in to tears now, not even angry ones.
With a groan of frustration she removed her half-boots, all scratched and worn, and tore off the cap that had hidden her hair. At least she would finally be able to brush out its tangles.
There was a faint knock at the door. Domina’s maid peeked in. ‘I came to help you, if you wish, miss.’ Becky was young, but aspired to be a fine lady’s maid some day.
At least her face was friendly. ‘Oh, Becky, I do not wish to get you in trouble.’
The maid shrugged. ‘We won’t tell them, then, will we?’ She picked up the cap and jacket off the floor. ‘What happened to you, miss?’
Marian glanced away. ‘I wound up in the middle of the battle for a while, and have since been trying to get back.’ She lifted her gaze to the girl. ‘Miss Fenton told them I went alone, but that was not the truth. She must have found her way back; I do thank God for that.’
‘I think she came in before dawn,’ Becky admitted, folding the jacket. ‘But there is time to talk of that later. What might I do for you now?’
‘I do not know what to request.’ She put her hand in her hair. ‘All I really want is to wash myself and my hair, but I dare not request a bath.’
Becky smiled. ‘Let’s get you out of the rest of those clothes and into a wrapper. We’ll sneak you down to the kitchen for a bath. Lady Fenton will never know.’
Marian hugged her. ‘I cannot think of anything that would be more generous.’
‘I’ll come back for you when the water is ready,’ Becky said.
Marian shed the rest of her clothing and nearly cheeredaloud when she freed herself from the scarf binding her chest. She rolled the garments into a ball, intending to burn them. She’d send Domina’s brother new ones.
Standing in the room naked felt better than wearing those clothes. She could still smell the blood and smoke of Hougoumont upon them even though she’d tried to scrub them clean.
She turned to the trunk and opened it, searching through to find her nightrail and her brush and comb. She wrapped the robe around her, tied the sash, and sat in the chair in
The captain faltered. Seizing the banister, he bent slightly as if seized with pain.
‘Captain!’ Marian hurried to him, but the manservant reached him first and assisted him the rest of the way.
Sir Roger and Lady Fenton came to the top of the stairs.
Marian looked back at them. ‘You heartless people. Can you not see he is wounded? A Frenchman’s musket ball went through him, and still he helped me return to you. He said he’d return me safely home .’ She choked back an angry sob.
She turned to the manservant. ‘He has no place to stay.’
The man’s expression was sympathetic.
The captain waved them off. ‘I am quite back to rights again.’
Marian glared at the Fentons. ‘He must stay here as well. Otherwise he will be on the streets like the others.’
‘It is not our concern,’ said Lady Fenton.
‘Now, dear…’ Sir Roger looked uncertain.
The manservant spoke up. ‘If I may be so bold, sir. This soldier may use my bed and I’ll make up a cot for myself.’
‘Very well.’ Sir Roger looked relieved. ‘Take him below. He may stay.’
The Captain did not protest when the man offered his shoulder to assist him. Marian watched them make their way to the door down to the servants’ quarters. The manservant glanced back at her. ‘Do not fret, miss. I’ll see he is well tended.’
She waited until they closed the door behind them before climbing the stairs to the room where she once so happily spent her nights. When she passed Sir Roger and Lady Fenton on the first landing, she refused to even look at them. Her room was one flight up, but she deliberately set a slow pace.Let them not see the distress burning inside her. When she reached the room, she still did not hurry.
After she closed the door behind her she leaned against it for a moment. By God, she would not give in to tears now, not even angry ones.
With a groan of frustration she removed her half-boots, all scratched and worn, and tore off the cap that had hidden her hair. At least she would finally be able to brush out its tangles.
There was a faint knock at the door. Domina’s maid peeked in. ‘I came to help you, if you wish, miss.’ Becky was young, but aspired to be a fine lady’s maid some day.
At least her face was friendly. ‘Oh, Becky, I do not wish to get you in trouble.’
The maid shrugged. ‘We won’t tell them, then, will we?’ She picked up the cap and jacket off the floor. ‘What happened to you, miss?’
Marian glanced away. ‘I wound up in the middle of the battle for a while, and have since been trying to get back.’ She lifted her gaze to the girl. ‘Miss Fenton told them I went alone, but that was not the truth. She must have found her way back; I do thank God for that.’
‘I think she came in before dawn,’ Becky admitted, folding the jacket. ‘But there is time to talk of that later. What might I do for you now?’
‘I do not know what to request.’ She put her hand in her hair. ‘All I really want is to wash myself and my hair, but I dare not request a bath.’
Becky smiled. ‘Let’s get you out of the rest of those clothes and into a wrapper. We’ll sneak you down to the kitchen for a bath. Lady Fenton will never know.’
Marian hugged her. ‘I cannot think of anything that would be more generous.’
‘I’ll come back for you when the water is ready,’ Becky said.
Marian shed the rest of her clothing and nearly cheeredaloud when she freed herself from the scarf binding her chest. She rolled the garments into a ball, intending to burn them. She’d send Domina’s brother new ones.
Standing in the room naked felt better than wearing those clothes. She could still smell the blood and smoke of Hougoumont upon them even though she’d tried to scrub them clean.
She turned to the trunk and opened it, searching through to find her nightrail and her brush and comb. She wrapped the robe around her, tied the sash, and sat in the chair in
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