Chapter 8 #2
“She doesn’t have to apologize, Mama. I wouldn’t mind seeing Ginger grow more of a spine.
Especially if she’s as determined to join the nurses and help the German immigrants as she’s declared herself to be.
” Madeline’s eyes were a similar shade of green to Ginger’s, though her hair had more of an auburn hue.
Her eyes held a challenge. “Maybe Charlotte Thompson has rubbed off on you in a good way.”
The mention of Charlotte was enough to get Henry’s attention.
“Not likely.” He gave Ginger a hard look.
“Don’t forget you require Father’s permission for all this.
He holds the purse strings, after all. If you refuse Stephen, you may not humor him to allow you to join the Queen Alexandra’s.
Especially after all the favors you’ve asked for the Martins. ”
“If so, I’d like to see what I can accomplish for the Martins without having to ask any further favors from Father—or Stephen.” Ginger pushed herself up from the sofa. As she stood, her sprained ankle erupted with pain again. She grimaced, clenching her jaw.
“What is it?” Gran reached for her arm to help her.
“I sprained my ankle helping the Martin family flee from their house last night.”
Gran shook her head. “No good deed goes unpunished. Now I understand why the doctor examined you. Your aunt was too concerned with his looks to ask before.”
Madeline grinned and toyed with the strand of pearls around her neck. “Oh you know, Mama, someone has to be looking for future beaus for our Ginger. Especially if she won’t have Stephen Fisher.”
“Ginger could have a great many beaus if she wanted them—without your help.” Gran gave her daughter a pointed look.
Ginger sighed and put her teacup on the saucer. “I’m not certain that’s accurate. Stephen has done his best to claim me in all our circles.” Maybe Charlotte was right. She needed someone from outside their friends.
“How can he claim you when you’ve not accepted him?” Madeline went toward Henry. “You really must do more to discourage Stephen from scaring off other suitors, Harry. It’s your responsibility as her older brother to protect her—even if it’s from your own friends.”
Before Henry responded, the door opened. Giles stepped through once more. “Lord Stephen Fisher is here to see Lord Henry and Lady Virginia.”
“Speak of the devil and he doth appear,” Gran grumbled from her place on the sofa.
Ginger smoothed her hands over the beads of her ruined dress. “I can’t see him looking like this.” She’d barely slept the previous night and her hair was in disarray.
“Would you like me to turn him away?” Madeline arched a brow.
“Of course not.” Henry stretched, throwing an amused glance at Ginger. “Hasn’t she been going on about how little she cares about what he thinks? If that’s the case, what difference does it make?”
Ginger glared at Henry. “Not being interested in Stephen doesn’t mean I’d love for him to see me like this.”
“Well, there’s hardly enough time for you to go and change now. I agree with Harry. Let him in,” Madeline said to Giles. He bowed and went back out once again.
Ginger sat beside her grandmother. Gran gave her an odd look. “My dearest, you’re up and down as quickly as a jack-in-the-box. Will you just settle yourself?”
Stephen came through the doorway. “Lady Westbrooke.” He bowed toward Madeline, then turned toward Gran. “Lady Grey. I’m so sorry to disturb you. I heard from Lord Braddock Henry and Ginny had come to London.”
“You heard from Father?” Henry asked, a hint of surprise in his features.
“Yes, he caught a train to London around noon. I’d expect he’ll be here soon.” Stephen removed his hat and held it in his hands. “Might I have a word alone with Henry and Ginny?”
“It just goes to show you can’t buy manners,” Gran said in a low whisper to Ginger. She stood and moved toward the door. “Madeline, would you call the car for me?”
Madeline followed her mother out the door.
Stephen didn’t appear to have heard her, thankfully.
Gran was right. The Fishers had risen to wealth only a few decades earlier, practically buying an earldom along the way.
While the amount of money they had was more than enough to get them into the poshest places, it wasn’t enough to buy them the credibility Ginger had often suspected Stephen desired through marrying her.
She offered him a polite smile. “Thank you for letting us know Father is on his way. Is there something the matter?”
“I’ve had a letter from David Peterson, my friend who is the assistant to the Home Secretary.” Stephen turned his hat in his hand and then gestured toward a chair. “May I sit?”
From the Home Secretary. She held her breath. Was it possible Stephen had helped her after all? Her hope outweighed the dread of what it might mean.
“Of course.” Henry came away from the window and took the seat beside Ginger. Stephen sat across from them. “I take it he has news about the Martins?”
Stephen set his hat on his knee. “Were you aware Friedrich Martin has a brother who is an Oberst in the Kaiser’s army?”
Whatever he meant, it didn’t sound good. Ginger exchanged a look with Henry. “What’s an Oberst?” she asked.
“Colonel.” Stephen folded his hands. “Both Friedrich and John Martin are on a shortlist for repatriation as a result.”
If Stephen’s news had been accompanied by a thunderclap, it couldn’t have been more shocking. Ginger caught her breath, feeling ill. “Repatriation? But they’ve done nothing wrong! They can’t help who their relatives may be. What about Mrs. Martin and the other children?”
“They’ll stay here. Nevertheless, the situation, especially for the elder Mr. Martin, looks grim.
David said he may be able to do something for the younger Mr. Martin, but you’d both need to get to his office as soon as possible and give sworn statements in his favor.
The soonest he can see you is tomorrow afternoon, though. ”
They would separate the family. For the length of the war? “But how can this be? The elder Mr. Martin is a kind man. Surely, we can make our appeals for him as well.” Ginger’s anger flared. “This is simply unacceptable.”
Spots of color appeared on Stephen’s cheeks. “Darling, what more would you have me do? We’ve taken this to the very top. If the Home Secretary won’t help, there’s really no one who can.”
She bristled at the term of endearment. “But we don’t know the Home Secretary won’t help. We know David Peterson won’t help. I’m certain if we—”
Henry released an exasperated sigh. “Ginny, you’re behaving irrationally.
More than likely because you need to rest. While your goal is admirable, you’ve got to be exhausted from your long night and morning.
Why not go up and rest before dinner and let Stephen and me attempt to think of alternatives?
Don’t forget, Stephen said there may be something he can do for John Martin. That’s not nothing.”
Ginger held back a sharp response. The mention of how long the day had been made her feel the exhaustion she wore in the stinging of her eyes and the dull ache in the back of her neck.
The excitement she’d felt when she’d come into the room was all but extinguished.
If she couldn’t even manage something as straightforward as releasing an innocent man from repatriation, her other goals might be more complicated than she imagined.
She wasn’t a suffragist revolutionary. She didn’t even know if she’d consider herself a Liberal, as James had seemed to assume.
With a pang, she remembered her thoughts of the London School of Medicine for women. She’d entertained the idea with about as much strength as a deflated tire.
“Yes, and thank you, Stephen.” She stood, feeling weak and tired, keeping her gaze on the gleaming oak floors and the woven rugs. “I suppose so.”
Stephen and Henry got to their feet. “Perhaps you can join me for a late-night drink, Ginny? I’d love to speak to you more, darling.” Stephen offered a charming smile.
I’m not your darling. She clenched her jaw. “Perhaps tomorrow?” Heaviness enclosed her heart.
She didn’t want to marry him.
Even if he’d just helped her.
Now she just had to tell him no. For good.
Tomorrow.