Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Charlie Martin’s face was peaceful as he slept.
Ginger stood at the foot of his bed, hesitant to wake him.
She didn’t want to leave town without telling him goodbye.
The thought of not being here to help him made her furious with her father all over again.
With Mrs. Martin forbidden to travel, who would look after him?
Madeline might help. Her aunt had a good heart. Ginger would have to discuss it with her when she returned. She’d slipped out of the house before dawn, unwilling to have her father pull her away before she’d visited Charlie one last time.
He startled just then, his arms shifting before his eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep. His eyes crossed the space, his expression unchanging and, for a moment, Ginger thought he’d drift back to sleep. But his eyes landed on her. He closed them again. “Is my mum here?” he mumbled in a low voice.
Ginger came closer. “No, Charlie. Remember what I told you yesterday afternoon? Your mother can’t come to London.”
He didn’t open his eyes, but he nodded. “I need my legs to work. To help her.”
Her heart broke for him. The responsibility on his shoulders must feel so heavy, and he was just a child.
If only her family weren’t leaving for Egypt—Ginger could have begged her father to take on one of the older girls as a kitchen maid.
But as it was, they were closing the house which meant no additions to their large staff.
She set a hand on his shoulder. “Charlie, I must leave today. For Penmore. I can’t promise when I’ll be back, but I’ll give your mother news of you. Is there anything you want me to tell her?”
Charlie opened his eyes. The blueness of his irises was striking, his eyes shiny. “Tell her I’ll do what the doctor says so I can come home soon and help her. And I miss her.”
Ginger nodded, a lump rising in her throat. “I will tell her.”
“Oh—and my little sister Millie...”
“Yes?”
“She’s afraid of the dark. Might be more afraid now. Tell her to think about the magical garden. It helps.”
His devotion to his family was so touching and resilient. Ginger wanted to carry him off, back home, where he could convalesce near them and be given the peace of mind that all would be well. But James had said it would be at least a few more weeks before he could leave the hospital.
As she left him, she noticed James at the doorway to the ward.
He hung back, but appeared to have been watching her.
She approached him and gave him a tight smile.
A sharp breath brought with it the scent of alcohol and antiseptic and she wrinkled her nose.
“I’ve just come to take my leave. I’m to travel back to Somerset today. ”
“I take it your father didn’t give you his blessing to join the nursing service?”
She looked away from him, not wanting him to see the tears threatening her vision.
She’d cried well into the night. “No, he’s afraid I’ll waste my life as an old maid.
He wants to see me settled, at least with an engagement, before I make the commitment to train.
It gives him some level of security to think that when the war ends, I’ll marry rather than stay a nurse. ”
“He loves you. No father wants to see his beautiful daughter grow old without the comfort of a husband.” James seemed to realize a moment too late he’d called her beautiful and he looked at the ward, his face reddening further as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I walk you outside?”
Ginger nodded. He thought she was beautiful. He really was an amiable man. Too bad she didn’t have any interest in him. He would have made a much nicer prospect than Stephen Fisher. “That would be lovely.”
They started out of the ward and James fell into step beside her, despite his longer stride. “When will you sign up for the Medical Corps?” Ginger asked him.
“Actually,” James cleared his throat, “I signed up yesterday. I must get fitted for a uniform this week.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Ginger smiled. She was genuinely glad for him—if not a little jealous.
“That reminds me—I must give back those nursing uniforms you arranged for me to borrow.” How foolish she’d been, borrowing uniforms to have her own tailor-made.
She hadn’t thought her father would make it so impossible for her to join.
“I’ll send them over with one of my aunt’s servants. ”
“Whenever you have the chance.” James’s posture bent, as though he was accustomed to trying to make himself smaller for private conversations. “Are you certain your father won’t reconsider?”
“I don’t think he will.” Her throat tightened, frustration bubbling too close to her heart. The wound was still too fresh for her to dwell on it here, though. She gave him as bright a smile as she could muster. “I’m certain you’ll do us all proud, Dr. Clark.”
“Well,” the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I don’t know what wartime surgery will be like, but I hope I can be useful to our Tommies. With the first wounded already arriving, the time has come for me to get over there, where I can have a greater impact right away.”
His sense of duty and bravery were commendable. “Then you’ll go to the front lines?”
“That’s my wish.”
How wonderful it must be to act as one wished.
Her resentfulness marred her ability to be fair right now.
Their steps echoed as they entered a stairwell and made their way down.
Despite only having known him for a few days, James felt more like a confidant than even some of her closest friends—if only because she could talk about something like nursing training with him.
He didn’t find the idea scandalous or strange.
“Perhaps as the war goes on, my father will relent and allow me to train to be a nurse. It may be easier once he sees the need.” The heaviness of her heart told her it was also a wistful dream. Her father wouldn’t be likely to be persuaded if she disregarded his wishes and didn’t agree to marry.
“And your father really insists you must be engaged beforehand?” James adjusted his glasses as they stepped out into the bright August morning.
“Yes.” She shook her head with a chortle.
“But getting engaged with the stipulation I’ll wait until the war is over to marry may be a great deal to ask of a man.
” She doubted Stephen would find that acceptable.
Something had even tempted her to tell him yes, just to get what she wanted—and break it off with him later.
But it would just be deferring the problem.
Her father wasn’t likely to react kindly to being deceived.
Unless Stephen happened to die in battle, which even she couldn’t think of as a solution. What a horrid thought, Ginger.
“I suppose it depends on the man. Some might be willing to wait.” They reached the edge of the pavement and Ginger stopped. James flagged a taxi cab approaching them and it stopped a few feet away.
Ginger grinned and a breeze ribboned past, scattering a few leaves from the trees near the entrance to the hospital.
“Thank you for all your help, Dr. Clark.” Holding out her hand, she offered it to him.
“And thank you for all your help with Charlie. Godspeed to you in the army. I’ll keep you in my prayers. ”
He bowed and then kissed the back of her hand. “Please do call on me for anything. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be at St. Thomas’ but I’m happy to help while I can.”
Ginger left him and made her way to the car.
By the time she’d settled in her seat, he’d gone back into the hospital.
With a pang of her heart, she sighed deeply and stared forward as the car drove away.
Leaving Charlie in the hospital didn’t feel right to her, but she was glad James could still see to his care.
The trip to Madeline’s house was short, but it gave enough time for her to find the composure to face her father.
She was disappointed with his lack of support for her ideas, but more than anything, he’d hurt her.
When Stephen had proposed and her father had made it clear he wished for her to accept, she’d still felt he would respect her choice.
Now it was clear he meant to punish her if she didn’t do what he wanted.
Had she missed the signs of his control before?
She’d always thought him to be more reasonable and interested in her happiness before now.
As the car slowed, the verdant trees and grasses threw a yellowish green hue into the windows from Hyde Park. She inhaled the familiar scents of city life—the mixture of smoke and petrol with food and warm summer air, tinged with sweat. When would she next be able to appreciate a London summer?
She paid the driver and stepped out of the car, feeling lost and yearning for…
something. The feeling of purpose, she decided, as she stared at the couples strolling down the pavements.
Young men in their army uniforms, their wives or sweethearts at their sides.
Across the country, it seemed the olive uniforms popped up more and more each day.
She didn’t want to belong to the war—a garish thought. But to the mission of serving others, of putting her own life to the side.
The stone balustrade was cool to her touch as she ascended the steps to her aunt’s house. Violet had come out with her father and his valet a few days earlier—hopefully she would have packed Ginger’s things. Now that she was going, Ginger didn’t want to delay any longer than necessary.
Giles opened the door for her, and she thanked him, hurrying through to the foyer as she slipped off her gloves.
“My lady, Lord Stephen Fisher is here to see you. He’s in the library with your brother now,” Giles informed her.
Ginger halted mid-step and caught her balance on a console table. Embarrassed by her lack of grace, she stiffened and gave Giles a sheepish smile. “Ah, well, in that case—lead the way.”