Epilogue
Penmore loomed in front of Ginger as the car made its way up the drive. Beside her, Violet beamed. “Aren’t you glad to be home, my lady?”
The knot of tension in Ginger’s chest tightened. She’d timed the trip home precisely, after spending a week at Madeline’s. The announcement would be in the newspaper this morning. Her father may have already seen it.
Sneaking John Martin out of an internment center seemed easy compared to this. Not to mention that she wouldn’t have her aunt or grandmother at her side.
“Delighted.” Ginger even managed a taut smile.
God, help me.
The car stopped in a cloud of dust. She released a restrained breath.
Her mother and Mr. Pierce met her outside. Her mother’s hands were clasped in front of her, her expression placid.
But one look was enough for Ginger to be certain.
She knew.
Ginger stepped out onto the gravel and hurried toward her mother. “Good morning, Mama.” She took her mother’s proffered hands and kissed her cheek, lightly.
Her mother pulled back and her mouth twisted. “I can’t say it’s been a very good morning for me, Ginger.”
Ginger grimaced, her gaze flicking toward the window of her father’s study. “Is he very angry?”
Sighing, her mother’s arms drooped by her sides. “I don’t know that ‘angry’ is the right word for it. He wants to see you. Straight away.”
“Are you coming with me?” Ginger asked her mother as Violet disappeared into the house with her bag.
Ginger wished she could go with the maid.
She didn’t really know where Violet was headed—she’d never paid attention.
But the gates of hell seemed preferable right now to facing the wrath of her father.
Her mother shook her head. “He wants to speak to you alone. He’s in his study.” She rubbed her temple, as though she was fighting a headache. “I know you didn’t want to marry Stephen, but this? You don’t know this man. And we’ve never even met the fellow. I thought you wanted love.”
Ginger swallowed the lump in her throat. “Father left me no other option. I wouldn’t normally have rushed into an arrangement like this, but I want to be a nurse for the war, Mama, and Father—”
“Yes, your father told me all about it.” The gravel crunched under her mother’s shoes as she shifted her weight.
“I understand why you’ve done this, but, Ginger, you’ve been gently bred.
What you’ll see in this war will stay with you forever.
” Biting her lip, her mother added, “Do yourself the favor of convincing your father this man is everything you’ve been claiming you want.
I’ve done what I could to help. The rest is up to you. ”
The darkness beyond the front door seemed cold, uninviting. A week of carefully cultivating a plan hadn’t been enough.
A lifetime wouldn’t be enough. She’d always be frightened, always feel she wouldn’t get it right.
The walk to her father’s study felt interminable. Though she couldn’t see them, she was certain she felt the eyes of the household on her. James had wanted to come with her. He’d been worried that making the announcement without asking her father for her hand would be too bold a step.
She couldn’t explain to him his proposal wouldn’t be welcome no matter how properly he offered it. This was the easier way.
Opening the door to the study, she found her father at his desk. He didn’t move as she approached and stopped beside him. A map of Egypt was laid out on the desktop. His hands were on either side of the map, his head bent in concentration.
“Getting ready for the trip?” Ginger finally said. His refusal to look at her didn’t bode well.
He nodded and drummed his fingers on the desk. “Did you hear?”
“Hear what?” she asked, feeling more off-balance than before.
“Friedrich Martin was repatriated. Sent to Germany two days ago.” His fingers cracked as he clenched and unclenched a fist. “I thought you’d be interested to find out.”
Her heart fell. No… She’d been worried. Especially after she’d seen Stephen at the internment center. That bastard. She was sure he’d been behind it. Thank goodness she’d been able to save John from a similar fate. At least she hadn’t completely failed.
“Did—how is Mrs. Martin?” she managed. A sick feeling clenched in her gut.
“As one might expect. But she’s grateful you helped her son. Both of them. Calls you her guardian angel.” Her father still hadn’t met her gaze.
“It must have been Stephen.” Ginger folded her hands in front of her.
“I saw him at the detention center after I finally turned him down. I’m certain he had a hand in having Mr. Martin repatriated with speed.
” She lifted her chin. “And what’s more—Stephen attempted to take liberties with me.
You ought to know what sort of man he is, in case you still believe he’s worthy of me. ”
“Liberties?” Her father gave her a sharp look, one that burned her to her core.
“Yes, well, I fought him off.” This wasn’t the sort of conversation she would ever feel comfortable having with her father.
“Then you’d be wise not to speak of it to anyone.” His eyes were hard and flat.
So much for protecting me.
Her father’s reaction oddly didn’t disappoint her with the acute pain she felt she ought to have expected.
How long had she spent telling him that Stephen wasn’t right for her?
Too long. And he’d insisted all the same.
Whatever was blinding her father in this way was something she couldn’t change.
He’d thrown his lot in with Stephen, perhaps for Henry’s sake.
And his son and heir was ultimately less expendable than his troublesome daughter.
Her heart panged with the thought.
Her father folded the map over, revealing the open newspaper underneath it. Her engagement announcement was on display below it. “Care to explain this?”
Had he led with the terrible news about Mr. Martin to unnerve her?
Her mouth was dry. “You met him in London—the doctor who cared for—”
“Yes, I know who the fellow is. That’s not the point.”
“I love him.” Not the whole truth, but she didn’t dare say any differently to her father.
The thought of James made her happy. That was enough.
It might not be the passionate excitement she’d once believed possible, but who knew if that even existed.
“We’re compatible. He’s a good man, from a fine family. His parents are delighted.”
“He should have come to me.” Her father stood straighter. “This…running around, behind my back—”
“There was nothing inappropriate in this, Father. And you can find no flaw with the man. He may not have Stephen Fisher’s wealth, but he’ll be a fine husband. And he’s willing to wait until after the war to be wed.”
“After the war?” The surprise in her father’s face was evident.
She counted her heartbeat by the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the study.
“Yes. I’m going to join the Queen Alexandra’s.
You said I had to be engaged and I am. I spoke to the matron and she’s agreed to send me to Egypt for my post after my training.
In fact, James is going to request the RAMC send him there, as well. ”
“The Queen Alexandra’s…” Her father’s anger burned in his eyes.
He pointed toward her. “You’re young and na?ve.
You know nothing of war. Nothing of how inhumane men can be toward one another.
You think the situation with the Martins was a travesty?
You’ll see soon enough. You’ll even learn to hate in a way you never thought possible. ”
His shoulders sank as he squared off with her, his mouth set to a line.
At last, he gave a curt nod. “You’ve made a worthy adversary, Virginia. Beaten your father at his game, as it were.”
“It’s not about that—”
His laugh was sardonic. “Isn’t it though?” He folded the newspaper and thrust it in her hands. “Have your doctor. And your nursing. But don’t think I’ll ever trust you again.”
Then he walked out the door, leaving her alone in his study.
Ginger braced herself against his desk, her emotions jumbled.
He’d said yes.
Yes.
Tears welled in her eyes and she covered her mouth, a choked, joyful laugh caught in her throat.
He would let her be a nurse. And she and James would be married.
The map on the desk promised something else…
Egypt awaited.
She sank back into her father’s chair, where she’d crawled as a girl to take shelter among the books and the sturdy scent of her home. The old leather was soft and worn and she ran her fingertips along the cracks in the grain.
…don’t think I’ll ever trust you again…
Nothing would ever be the same.
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