Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Ginger limped down the staircase of her aunt and uncle’s posh London home, her ankle feeling sorer than it had the day before.
She paused at the bottom step, her hand resting on the curved volute of the smooth mahogany rail.
The sweet scent of cakes and scones greeted her from a tray a footman carried to the parlor for elevenses.
She considered popping in for a moment, but she wanted to get to the hospital.
She crossed the foyer and slipped out without announcing her intentions to Giles.
Her father had mentioned going to check on Charlie late last night when he’d arrived at the house.
He’d brought Violet and his valet with him also.
While Ginger was thankful to have some of her own clothes and her maid to help her, she felt guilty.
Her poor aunt, they were practically invading at this point.
If they’d had known they needed to return to London so soon, she doubted her father would have closed the house.
Fortunately, her father had left her aunt’s house again before breakfast. For all she knew, he’d already gone to visit Charlie.
Ginger hurried down the stairs and then startled as she nearly ran into a man who approached from the pavement.
Her heart squeezed in her chest. What was he doing here?
“Lady—that is, Ginger.” James Clark tipped his hat. “Good morning.”
“Heavens, what a surprise.” Ginger gave him a broad smile as she recovered from the scare he’d given her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“As it so happens, my mother has a mutual friend with your aunt. When I mentioned you to her last night, she inquired about your aunt’s address for me.” James returned her smile. “I wanted to call on you last night, but I thought you might be resting after all you’d been through.”
“I was.” She’d gone to bed early, exhausted from having spent the previous night awake. The trouble he’d gone to find her intrigued her as much as the fact that he’d mentioned her to his mother. It was charming.
Ginger checked over her shoulder, toward the house. Hopefully, neither her aunt nor Henry watched from inside.
“That’s a pretty vine.” James pointed to her aunt’s garden, where a carefully cultivated vine with purple flowers grew toward the window.
“Clematis, I believe.” Ginger motioned toward the pavement. “Shall we? I was just headed toward the hospital.”
James fell into step beside her. “How is your ankle this morning?”
“Better.” Now why had she said that? It hurt worse than ever. She didn’t want to trouble him with it, though. “I’ll be just fine. How’s Charlie? I’m eager to see him.”
James’s face grew more serious. “Charlie has a fever, I’m afraid. Hopefully nothing serious, but it could be a sign of infection. He’d just fallen to sleep after a long night awake when I left the hospital.” He cleared his throat. “But we can go back to the hospital together.”
Ginger’s fingers tightened on her handbag. Much as she wanted to say yes, London wasn’t one of those towns she could wander about without being spotted by someone she knew. If someone saw her with James, it might get back to Stephen and...
She frowned. Why was she behaving as though Stephen had the right to dictate if she go to the hospital with James?
Stephen didn’t own her. And though he may have proposed, she had every intention of telling him no.
A warm breeze enveloped her and the white clouds drifting overhead didn’t indicate rain.
She might have brought a parasol. She’d spent the summer trying to avoid the freckles that came so naturally to her skin.
The scent of petrol from a passing car wafted across the pavement. She turned, examining James’s profile. He was a nice-looking man, though not particularly what she would call handsome. And she’d enjoyed their brief conversations. “I’d be delighted.”
The smile James gave her made it clear how pleased he was she’d accepted.
“I’m glad. I was at luncheon with my mother at Hotel Cecil and it seemed a waste to be so close to where you were without checking.
We can walk back that way if you’d like.
I’d love for you to meet her. She was fascinated by what I told her about how you handled Charlie. ”
“Hotel Cecil?” Ginger gave him another look.
For a doctor, he certainly seemed to have connections with the upper class.
She’d attended a few functions at Hotel Cecil over the Season.
She’d have to make a note to inquire about him further.
“The distance to the Strand may be more of a walk than my ankle can handle.”
He led her toward an open-topped car parked a block away from her aunt’s house. “How silly of me. I’ll drive you. It’ll only be a quick visit. I can take you back to the hospital afterward so you can complete your mission to visit the Martins.”
“My, you drive your own car as well? Then you have more skills than a surgeon’s.” Ginger slid into the passenger seat as he held the door for her, the leather of the seat warm against her thighs through her skirt. Was she flirting? She didn’t want him to get the wrong impression of her.
James climbed in and started the car. “You’ll find me to be a man of many talents.” He laughed and pulled away from the curb. “Did you give any more thought to the QA program?”
“I’d love to be a nurse. The more I consider it, I’d like to have some useful skills to offer. Do something that really matters for the war effort.” Her throat hurt from speaking loudly to be heard over the thrumming of the engine.
James gave her a warm look. “I’m pleased to hear it.”
She settled into the seat, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her skin, and the rush of the wind as they drove.
London seemed to be turning into a recruitment center for the army—a result of the olive and tan uniforms worn by new soldiers on the streets.
Buildings were papered with recruitment posters.
The feeling of excitement she’d felt about nursing came rushing back to her. The wind whipped a feathery strand of hair into her eyes and she pushed it off her face. Being in the car with James, heading to Hotel Cecil with no one in her family even knowing where she was—it was exhilarating.
More than that. She felt bold and capable. In control of her own affairs. And the company was enjoyable, too. James was more interesting by the minute.
She carried the feeling of boldness with her after she parted from James and visited Charlie.
As the boy was still resting, the nurse on duty turned her away, much to Ginger’s frustration.
Ginger didn’t want Charlie to awaken and find himself alone.
Though she didn’t know the boy well, she couldn’t help but feel a bond with him, given what they’d been through together.
Still, the hospital gave her an unusual sense of direction. She waited outside the ward until she finally had a few minutes to see him and then headed back to her aunt’s house. As she arrived, Henry came rushing out of the sitting room toward her.
“Where on earth have you been?” Henry’s heels struck against the polished floor with an echo.
“I popped by Hotel Cecil and then stopped in at the hospital to visit Charlie.” She removed her hat.
“Where’s Father? I’d hoped to see him there.
” She’d prepared herself on the trip back from the hospital to tell her father about her intention to be a nurse.
She didn’t want time and fear to build up and prevent her making her announcement.
Henry peered at her. “Alone?”
“Actually, no. James Clark came by to check on me as I left to go to the hospital. I went with him. He wanted to introduce me to his mother—a lovely lady.” Her aunt’s remarks the day before would make it more of an issue to Henry than it really was.
She liked James, but he wasn’t what she would consider as a potential beau. She barely knew him.
Henry frowned. “Madeline may have been right in questioning your interest in Dr. Clark.”
Embarrassment pricked at her chest. “Honestly, Henry. If I were interested in him, I would be more than willing to tell you about it.” Not that she’d even known the man long enough to entertain such thoughts.
Then again, James had introduced her to his mother.
She might have thought about what it would mean to him before she’d agreed to it.
“Yes, well—” Henry tapped his pocket watch. “The fact is, your visit with him has made us late to meet with David Peterson. Given your interest in the Martin case, I’m shocked you’ve lost track of time so profoundly.”
Oh, no. She’d have fly-aways in her hair from the car trip with James and there wouldn’t be time to change. How could she have forgotten?
She’d been busy asking James what she needed to do to prepare for nursing training. Her mind had buzzed with ideas. Something about the whole idea—sitting at the bedside of injured soldiers, holding their hands, soothing their worries—sounded so marvelously useful that she’d become distracted.
“Do I look completely disheveled?” She hastened to a mirror.
Henry grabbed her by the elbow and steered her toward the door. “You’ll look more disheveled when you’re flustered because we missed our appointment.” He led her outside.
“Easy now. My ankle is still hurting. Is Stephen going to meet us there?” Madeline’s chauffeur waited just beyond the steps beside the car. Ginger accepted his help into her seat. The interior of the motorcar smelt of warm, polished leather. Henry sat beside her.
“Stephen won’t be there.” Henry paused as the door shut behind them and lowered his voice. “I would exercise caution with how loudly we discuss the matter in front of others.” He gave a nod toward the chauffeur as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“I’m feeling like a prisoner in my own country, just for expressing an unpopular opinion,” Ginger muttered.