“General Smyth?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“He wishes to see me?”
The man delivering the message likely thought I was not quite as sensible as my reputation indicated. However, as the man who delivered the general’s notices, I suspected little truly surprised him. A slight smile suggested he enjoyed my discomfiture, yet I judged it not malicious. He simply found levity in the situation, not truly at my expense.
Wondering what in the world a general could want with the likes of me, I followed the corporal immediately and entered the general’s office. To my surprise, a young maid, dressed in a uniform much better than average, entered immediately behind me. I supposed the general worried about propriety, as if such a thing could exist at a military hospital. I wondered if he kepta maid merely for that purpose, and why she was dressed so particularly well, but I had not long to ponder; the general was not a man to waste time.
“Thank you for coming, Miss Lucas.”
I curtseyed, and he offered a belated bow. He seemed more accustomed to salutes, but rallied well enough.
“How may I assist you, General?”
The general led me to a set of chairs in the far corner, signalling the young maid to seat herself in the other corner, out of hearing. I had no idea whether this was a good omen or bad.
The general seemed not a man to waste time in civilities, so he came directly to the point.
“Miss Lucas, you have requested and been granted leave, but I wonder if I might prevail upon you for a favour?”
“A favour, sir?”
I wondered when I had become incapable of simple conversation but supposed the general would say what he needed whether I filled the space with blather or not.
“You are on your way to visit your father’s house in Hertfordshire, are you not?”
He seemed to have decided to veer toward civility, which I was not convinced was a good idea. Whatever his favour, I wished to know it and be done. There was little chance I would decline any favour the general deigned to ask, but it would be nice to know what type of trap I was walking into.
“Yes sir, I am to take a short leave, but I will be back in a month.”
He looked as sceptical as the matron, but held his tongue.
“Would you consider it impertinent for me to ask how you came to be in service?”
I did in fact consider it impertinent, bordering on rude, but I had learned to obey orders, just like the men I treated, so it never occurred to me to answer with anything less than thecomplete truth. I had to admit, that was one thing I liked about this environment. When men were dying around you, nobody bothered with trivialities. I suspected I would find the rules of propriety stifling when I returned to my father’s house, and I thought I might very well make a life here in this hospital after home drove me mad for a month, or perhaps merely a fortnight.
“You are obviously aware of what life is like in market towns, sir. We are expected to marry, but as you can clearly see, that particular plan has not worked out all that well for me.”
The general looked puzzled. “Why ever not?”
“Because I live in a small town. There were only about twenty families of the gentry, and I was expected to marry within my class. Unfortunately, of the twenty families, several had uncommonly pretty daughters, and several had better dowries. You need not pretend I am anything other than a plain, ordinary woman with a small dowry; my status should come as no surprise.”
He grunted in amusement or deprecation—it was hard to tell with him. He asked the oddest question.
“Would you object to a colonel or major?”
“For what?”
“As a husband, of course!”
To own the truth, the question had never occurred to me, and I found myself unable to answer.
Once moving, the general rolled over all opposition, giving me no chance to consider the question alone.
“You would not be wealthy, and I will not claim that the life of a military wife is ideal, but you could be reasonably comfortable. At that rank, the chances of your husband dying in battle are not so bad—especially if you get one headquartered on our soil. Most could afford a reasonable establishment, though not luxurious by any means.”
If that was his idea of wooing me, he was sadly mistaken, but the wedding band on his finger proved he did not speak of himself. His wife might have a different opinion, but as I would probably never converse with her, I had to determine it myself. Was the general merely a busybody, or did he have some purpose?
