Chapter Seventeen #2
“I’m not suggesting he will have fallen out of love with you.
I sincerely doubt that will ever happen, but he may not be the same as you remember.
He may become angry about odd things, little things that should not appear to matter.
He may have nightmares. Are you prepared to deal with that in Will? To love him, marry him, care for him?”
Withdrawing her hand from her muff, she touched Rufus’s arm, trying to reach him past the raw emotion rolling off him in waves. Keeping her voice soft, she asked, “How do you know this, Rufus? Is this how you feel?”
Will’s friend, the man who had become her friend, who had offered himself as her fiancé should the need arise, drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The sound was at once sorrowful and telling. He said nothing.
“No one would ever know, Rufus. You hide your feelings well. Perhaps too well. Would it help to talk about—”
A shudder passed through him, halting her words, and he closed his eyes briefly.
When he reopened them, he turned to her, lifted her hand and kissed it.
“My thanks for your generous offer, Lady Clementine.” His deliberate formality did not escape her.
“I believe Will will be in the best of hands with you, but I fear my darkness is not for your ears, and I doubt another woman such as you exists on this earth.”
Embarrassed heat rose in her cheeks. “I am not out of the ordinary, Rufus. What I am is in love. Anything that lies within my power to do for Will, I’ll do. That is what love is. The Bible tells us that marriage urges us to care for one another in both sickness and in health.”
“That isn’t love, Clem. That’s duty.” Rufus’s dark blue gaze bored into her, seeking, probing for a better answer.
How could she show Rufus her love for Will was more than duty, more than life itself?
She loved Will, the man, and his bright, beautiful soul, and that would never change.
“Shakespeare wrote that ‘love is not love which alters when alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove . . .’” Her throat closed around a lump of worry; not worry that she wouldn’t be able to live up to this ideal but worry for Will if he should be so affected.
Rufus picked up where she had left off. “‘It is an ever-fixéd mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.’ And you, my lady, are the star that Will’s wanderings will return him to, the safe shore and the home hearth.”
“Nothing will change how I feel about Will.”
They sat in companionable, contemplative silence for several minutes before Rufus shook his head.
“Where are my manners? I should not be keeping you sitting here in the chill air.” He rose and offered a hand.
Once she stepped into the aisle, he offered his arm, and they completed their walk around the chapel, ending up in front of the workmen’s brazier with Mary.
“My thanks for your informative tour, Lord Marsden, but I should return home now. Will we see you for dinner Thursday next?”
“Indeed, my lady. I look forward to my visit.”
No more was said while they exited the church. Rufus signaled the footman to call for Clem’s carriage. “Quickly, my man. Do not let your mistress freeze.”
They reached the bottom of the steps as Clem’s carriage pulled up. Godfrey, the youngest footman, jumped down and slid on a patch of ice. His arms windmilled before he righted himself and glanced up at Clem. Cold and embarrassment colored his cheeks. Tugging his uniform, he stood straighter.
A one-legged man hobbled nearer on a pair of homemade wooden crutches.
By the look of his tattered military jacket, he was a former soldier.
Young Godfrey stepped in front of him. Whether he intended only to stop the man to allow Clem to enter her carriage quickly, or for some other reason, she didn’t know.
But the soldier lost his balance, his crutch slipping on the same patch of ice that had almost been Godfrey’s undoing. As he fell, his cry of pain was followed by a string of curses.
Taking care to avoid the same fate, Rufus stepped quickly and carefully to the man’s side. He sat him up and marshalled the two footmen to help the veteran stand. When they had him upright with his crutches tucked beneath his arms, Rufus called up his own carriage and turned to Clem.
“I will look after this fellow.” He turned back to the soldier whom Clem now saw was not much older than Will.
Distressed about the accident, Clem approached and addressed the soldier. “Please accept my apology.”
“Where do you live?” Rufus asked him.
The man’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t ’ave no ’ome, my lord.”
Shocked to her core, Clem stared at Rufus. “How is this possible?”
“It’s an all too common tale, Lady Clementine. Please go home and allow me to help him.”
Clem turned back to the soldier. “Where do you sleep, eat, and live?”
The man turned to Rufus with a look Clem swore was both angry and helpless.
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to embarrass you.” She reached into her reticule and withdrew what money she had. Little enough to do much good, she thought, and held it out to the man.
Slowly, he held out his hand, palm up, and she dropped the coins into his palm. He touched his grimy cap. “Thank’ee, my lady.”
Anger choked her as she walked back to her carriage.
Rufus assisted her to climb in. “I’ll see he gets a hot meal and a bed for the night, Clem, but there’re many more like him in London and throughout the country. There will be more, too, when this war reignites.”
“It is so wrong, Rufus. What is our government doing for these men who have done their duty for king and country? From what I see of this man, our soldiers have been shamefully dealt with.”
“I will help him, Clem, and see to his comfort.”
“Thank you for that, but as you said, he is one of many.” She shook her head, hating that she had been blind to such gross injustice.
“Somehow, I will find a way to help these men. They need a home and care from the country they served, and I will do all I can to see that they get it. Tomorrow, I will call into the Royal Chelsea Hospital and make enquiry as to what I may do to assist them.”