yet," he answered. "How many wounded did you have?"
"Six, same as usual."
"Badly wounded?"
"Yes. Does all this matter?"
"I don't know yet. It was probably one of the German prisoners, but we have to be sure." Joseph sighed. "Was Wil Sloan with you?"
"Wil?" She was startled. "Yes, of course he was. You can't suspect him, for heaven's sake!"
"I need to place everyone, Judith, or I can't begin to make sense of it. Someone did a terrible thing to her."
She turned away. "I know! It must have been one of the German prisoners. I daresay they hate us all. Or at least some of them do. They look just like us, don't they, especially when they're hurt and covered with mud and blood. I hate this!"
He touched her arm gently. "It'll be over soon. Or this part of it will. But we've got to find out who did that to Sarah Price. Apart from justice, and stopping him from doing it again, Matthew and I need to get Schenckendorff back to London. They're not going to hold up the armistice negotiations because of this mess here."
"Can't you explain it to Colonel Hook and get away anyhow?" she asked.
"I don't think so. We don't know who the Peacemaker is, or what allies he might have here. He may know Schenckendorff has crossed over. It won't take a genius to guess that it could be here. He'll know Matthew's left London, and probably where he's come to."
Her eyes widened, fear sudden and gripping. "Joseph, be careful!"
"I am. Tell me about Sarah Price, honestly. We haven't time for blurring the edges with kindness."
She pursed her lips. "I didn't know her well; I don't think anybody really did. She was a bit flighty, enjoyed a laugh and a joke, even if it was pretty silly. Didn't seem to take anything very seriously, and that annoyed some people. She seemed awfully shallow." She looked away for a moment, toward the edge of the light from the lamps, then back at him, and spoke with painful honesty. "I think she stopped allowing herself to feel when her brothers were killed. She wasn't going to let herself feel that kind of loss again. She made light of pretty well everything, and she drank rather more than was good for her. She flirted and led a few people on, but most of us knew it was just the way she was. We all deal with loss and fear in different ways. That was hers."
One of the orderlies crossed over at the edge of their vision, and she waited until he was beyond earshot before continuing. "She didn't gossip and she didn't tell tales. And she was generous with things. I think she had stopped valuing anything, so it was easier for her to give it away. Almost as ifshe knew she might not make it home." Her lips tightened. "I'm not sure she had any home now. I remember her saying once that there was only her grandmother left. I don't know what happened to the others. Her mother died in the winter of 1916, and she lost both her brothers at the Somme."
She took in a shaky breath and let it out with a shiver. "Hell, Joseph, I think I might drink and flirt and behave like a fool if that were me. Catch the creature who did this to her!"
"I'll try. But we have to get Schenckendorff back to London."
"I know. At least we've got Matthew here to help."
He stayed with her a few minutes longer, then spoke to some of the nurses. They all said more or less the same as Judith had, although they were less frank with him than she had been, and some were less kind.
He walked into the last tent at the end of the row without hope of learning anything new, or even remotely helpful. There was just one nurse there, standing with her back to him, cleaning surgical instruments on a wooden table. Her dark hair was tied up and back, but the natural curl in it made it impossible to keep tidy. Her neck was slender, and there was grace in the line of her shoulders. It reminded him of something gentle and happy that he could not immediately place.
She must have heard his boots on the floorboards, because she turned. Her blue eyes opened wide and the scalpel slid
"Six, same as usual."
"Badly wounded?"
"Yes. Does all this matter?"
"I don't know yet. It was probably one of the German prisoners, but we have to be sure." Joseph sighed. "Was Wil Sloan with you?"
"Wil?" She was startled. "Yes, of course he was. You can't suspect him, for heaven's sake!"
"I need to place everyone, Judith, or I can't begin to make sense of it. Someone did a terrible thing to her."
She turned away. "I know! It must have been one of the German prisoners. I daresay they hate us all. Or at least some of them do. They look just like us, don't they, especially when they're hurt and covered with mud and blood. I hate this!"
He touched her arm gently. "It'll be over soon. Or this part of it will. But we've got to find out who did that to Sarah Price. Apart from justice, and stopping him from doing it again, Matthew and I need to get Schenckendorff back to London. They're not going to hold up the armistice negotiations because of this mess here."
"Can't you explain it to Colonel Hook and get away anyhow?" she asked.
"I don't think so. We don't know who the Peacemaker is, or what allies he might have here. He may know Schenckendorff has crossed over. It won't take a genius to guess that it could be here. He'll know Matthew's left London, and probably where he's come to."
Her eyes widened, fear sudden and gripping. "Joseph, be careful!"
"I am. Tell me about Sarah Price, honestly. We haven't time for blurring the edges with kindness."
She pursed her lips. "I didn't know her well; I don't think anybody really did. She was a bit flighty, enjoyed a laugh and a joke, even if it was pretty silly. Didn't seem to take anything very seriously, and that annoyed some people. She seemed awfully shallow." She looked away for a moment, toward the edge of the light from the lamps, then back at him, and spoke with painful honesty. "I think she stopped allowing herself to feel when her brothers were killed. She wasn't going to let herself feel that kind of loss again. She made light of pretty well everything, and she drank rather more than was good for her. She flirted and led a few people on, but most of us knew it was just the way she was. We all deal with loss and fear in different ways. That was hers."
One of the orderlies crossed over at the edge of their vision, and she waited until he was beyond earshot before continuing. "She didn't gossip and she didn't tell tales. And she was generous with things. I think she had stopped valuing anything, so it was easier for her to give it away. Almost as ifshe knew she might not make it home." Her lips tightened. "I'm not sure she had any home now. I remember her saying once that there was only her grandmother left. I don't know what happened to the others. Her mother died in the winter of 1916, and she lost both her brothers at the Somme."
She took in a shaky breath and let it out with a shiver. "Hell, Joseph, I think I might drink and flirt and behave like a fool if that were me. Catch the creature who did this to her!"
"I'll try. But we have to get Schenckendorff back to London."
"I know. At least we've got Matthew here to help."
He stayed with her a few minutes longer, then spoke to some of the nurses. They all said more or less the same as Judith had, although they were less frank with him than she had been, and some were less kind.
He walked into the last tent at the end of the row without hope of learning anything new, or even remotely helpful. There was just one nurse there, standing with her back to him, cleaning surgical instruments on a wooden table. Her dark hair was tied up and back, but the natural curl in it made it impossible to keep tidy. Her neck was slender, and there was grace in the line of her shoulders. It reminded him of something gentle and happy that he could not immediately place.
She must have heard his boots on the floorboards, because she turned. Her blue eyes opened wide and the scalpel slid
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