Page 9 of The Baron Takes a Wife

“A cure?” she offered.

“Something like that.” He grimaced. He loathed talking about his condition, as it made it a more concrete reality, but Mrs. Raeburn saw too much. She was too sharp for him to deny it.

“Well, there’s nothing more to be said then. That girl. Life has taken too many of her choices away. I just want her to have something back.”

“She will. I swear it.” He knew he couldn’t control the future or his recovery, but this was one thing he could do, one small thing he could make right.

Mrs. Raeburn regarded him, seeming to understand he was not the kind of man who would make a vow lightly and straightened. “I’ll talk to her and send her in.”

As if by Providence, Elena tentatively walked down the ward, then stopped and looked at Mrs. Raeburn. Something looked to pass between them as Mrs. Raeburn gave her a slight tilt of her head, and Elena threw her arms around the woman, desperately holding on.

“I don’t want to leave you, but I think I have to take this chance,” he heard Elena whisper.

“I’ll come find you, Elena. I’ll make sure you are taken care of,” Mrs. Raeburn whispered back. “If I survive this war, we’ll build something else. We’ll have our own hospital.”

“You will,” Elena murmured. “You must.” Elena brought her head up and noticed David watching them. “I’ll let you sleep and come talk to you later this afternoon.”

He smiled in agreement and looked at the ceiling. This felt like the largest hurdle, he thought, as he stared up at the makeshift ceiling and began to drift into sleep.

When he awoke, Elena was sitting by him, sewing. She was humming softly to herself. It was that same song she always sang, the song too sad to be a lullaby. He watched her while her eyes were down, her golden-brown hair glistening in the early evening sun, again braided on top of her head like a crown. Even her eyelashes, which were a deep, sooty black, reflected the gold of her hair and skin in the fading sun. The warmth he always felt when he looked at her overlapped with a feeling of great tenderness and responsibility. He might never be a real husband to her, but she would want for nothing. They would likely have no children and may never live together as man and wife, but he could do this one thing with his life and take her out of the hell of war. England might not be heaven, but there should be no cannons or explosions that could blow her to bits or break her body.

He must have moved, for she looked up guiltily. “They’re dolls,” she said, misunderstanding the scrutiny of his gaze. “For the children here. I used to make them for my sisters, but…” She looked slightly shame-faced, “My mother would help me with the pattern, and they looked more like dolls. These look like…”

He eyed the fabric in her lap, which more resembled a rag pile than a doll.

“Like?” He bit his lip to keep from grinning at her embarrassment.

“Well, I bet you have never made a doll before.”

“No, but my sister used to make me play with her and her dolls and have tea parties.”

Elena seemed to find this amusing because she spent a good minute trying to catch her breath. “My apologies, but the thought of you sitting with your sister and playing with her dolls. I cannot imagine it.” After a few more chuckles, she caught her breath. She looked up at him thoughtfully.

“I am supposed to answer your question.”

“Yes,” he answered softly. He felt his heart pounding as if his life were on the verge of foundational change. He knew he ought to be shouting caution, but this felt right and true. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so sure about anything. She looked at her so-called doll carefully, then back up at him.

“I think, if you hold to your word, what you said to Mrs. Raeburn, then…yes. Yes.” He released the breath he did not realize he had been holding. He took her hand and kissed it lightly. He saw her brief recoil at the contact, but when he glanced back again, she looked like something important had just occurred to her.

“But we are not of the same faith!”

He had his response ready. He had thought he would have to use it earlier. “Marriage amongst different denominations is tricky but not impossible. The English have been marrying Russians for centuries, and Russians are Orthodox, yes? I’m sure I can figure something out. I am a peer. After all, that must be good for something.” He realized how pompous he sounded and attempted to change his tone. “We’ll marry here, and I’ll work out the legal and spiritual issues when we reach London.”

She nodded, and her hand seemed to go unconsciously to her chest for a second. She caught herself and looked up at him, and he was struck, like he always was, by the mix of warmth and sorrow in her eyes.

“Mrs. Raeburn said I can stay with you until it gets dark. Would you like me to read to you?”

Now that he had accomplished his goal, he felt like all his energy was sapped from the events of the afternoon.

“No, I’m too tired today. Could you just sit with me? You can keep working on your, uh, dolls.” He couldn’t keep his mouth from twisting up as he said the last word, even though it caused him a twinge of pain. He closed his eyes and felt the tiny sting of a doll being launched at him. His smile deepened. His last conscious thought was that he hoped she got better at making “dolls” for their children, then he remembered there would be no children.

Chapter Three

London

1858

It had been almost three years since Elena had come to England, and it was still much too cold for her taste, even in summer. Despite the chill and dampness in the air, she found living there quiet and relatively peaceful, especially compared to her years of wandering and war. Elena could only be grateful that her husband’s sister and aunt had welcomed her with such friendliness and grace. David’s aunt Sophie had come from trade and was happy to have a merchant’s daughter in the family, even if she was strange and foreign. Irene, David’s sister, seemed a lonely girl and was delighted to have someone closer to her age around. They would never replace her family, but Elena enjoyed spending time with Irene and Sophie, and they made her transition to life in England as seamless as possible, particularly Irene, who helped her read and write in English.