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"Oh, does that hurt?"
A tear rolled down her cheek.
"No, there is little feeling at all. The pain is only here."
He tapped his forehead.
For several moments, they sat in silence. Tears streaked her cheeks, and she found a hankie to wipe them away.
"I should be accustomed to dealing with my situation after so many years. The impossibility of returning to the war was my biggest regret. I find it difficult to discuss with anyone."
"It was fortunate that you could write with your left hand."
He gave a rueful laugh.
"I could not. But I have learned."
She straightened up and leaned forward.
"That is remarkable. What an accomplishment Captain. I have never heard of such a thing."
"I daresay that there are many who, for one reason or another, have to learn to change dominant hands. The Duke's aide, Fitzroy Somerset, lost his arm in Belgium, and I read that it was his right, so imagine trying to take down Wellington's correspondence while changing hands."
"I cannot." Ronnie tried to make her voice light-hearted her tone teasing. "But Captain, as much as I wish to spare you further distress, you have not finished my answers. I still do not know where you grew up."
"You are as resolute a general as our Duke, I must say. I grew up in Berkshire. Father was a landowner. My great aunt purchased me a commission in the army and supplied me with funds for uniforms. She was a great lady, but did not live to see me win a captaincy, earned by merit. And that is all I have to say, Miss Montgomery. I really must return to my duties. I thank you for your garden suggestions, though not so much the compensation you wanted."
"I in my turn thank you for telling me of your life even though you were reluctant. You have much to be proud of, and I admire your accomplishments."
"Thank you."
When he'd excused himself, Ronnie propped her chin in her fist and leaned on the arm of her chair. Perhaps she should not have been so inquisitive. But her heart told her differently, lurching in her chest at the very thought of his occasional smile. My, my, she chided herself. What a silly chit you have become, like a star struck country miss mooning over a handsome Prince. Nothing in his demeanour suggested more than mere cooperative friendship. And she was a fool to think that there could be more.
She knew a few things now about Captain Andrew Haverstone-Smythe. But she had more questions. Was he still in the process of recovery, or was his weakened arm beyond further improvement?
An hour later, she still sat, thinking about the welcome arrival of Cici's William and the most unwelcome arrival of his friend, already nominated as 'Perfect for Veronica’. Even Mama had joined in the anticipation, since Lord Appleby and Miss Turner seem quite wrapped up in one another. What dreadful lad would William have recruited for her? A hero? Most likely a fellow equally as uninspiring as Cici's William.
Ronnie considered William a cipher, about the emptiest head and most lacklustre fellow she’d ever met. But, in many ways, he fit Cici’s requirements perfectly. He would not drag her into political disputes. He would not require her to discuss the implications of an essay by Leigh Hunt. Or explain the plot of a comedy by Shakespeare. He would expect her to honour his parents, produce his offspring, keep his abode, look fetching, and entertain his friends. A match made in paradise, just as Cici bragged.
The last thing she should do was worry about William or his friend. The less time wasted on upsetting thoughts, the fewer challenges to her complexion, Mama always said. And Mama was, in her own opinion, an expert on skin care, a thought which brought a smile to Ronnie.
******
"Cici, I have an idea. What if we took extra shifts with us to the bathing machines and instead of donning those heavy dresses they have, we change into a simple shift in which we can actually swim instead of clinging to the steps?"
"Will they let us?"
"Who is to know? No one sees you until you get into the water and the attendants won’t care. They won’t have to hold you."
"Anything would be better than that awful outfit they give you."
"I agree."
"But I cannot miss William's arrival," Cici said. "I must wait right here for him."
Later as she entered the sea alone, Ronnie thought that the shift was much more suitable for bathing than the heavy dress. Indeed, as she floated on her back and paddled around, it was much, much better. Cici would have loved it, but never mind. All day yesterday she had waited, and was doing the same today, teetering between exhilaration and despondency.
Actually, Ronnie wanted to meet William's friend in order to see if he lived up to William's description. Supposedly this battle-hardened hero was anxious to meet her? Why, she mused as she paddled away from the steps and back again.
