Authors: Kate Cary
He blinked, as if in bright light, even though his cell was shadowed. Then slowly he focused on my face. For the first time he seemed to actually see me. “Are you—are you really an angel?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and slurred.
Heart thudding, I shouted for the night porter. “Please, fetch Sister!” I told him.
“What is it, Seward?” Sister asked when she arrived at my side. Automatically she reached for John’s wrist, still restrained in its leather strap. She looked at her watch to check his pulse.
“I think he knows where he is!” I told her excitedly.
“I have no idea where I am,” John croaked.
I smiled. He had heard me. And his words were those of a rational man.
Sister raised her eyebrows. “You are at Purfleet Sanatorium,” she informed him.
“Back in Blighty?” John breathed incredulously.
“Back in England, yes,” Sister confirmed. She glanced at me. “I’ll fetch Doctor.”
As Sister strode away, I found John staring at me.
“I’ve had such bad dreams,” he said, his voice still weak and cracked with thirst.
I lifted a glass of water to his lips, supporting his head with my hand.
He tried to move his arms and found them restrained.
“Why?” he asked.
“You’ve had a fever …” I began cautiously, anxious not to let him know how wild and strange he’d been since his arrival. I pressed the water to his lips, insisting he take a sip.
He lay back on his pillow. “I feel quite myself now.” He tugged again on the restraints.
“The doctor will be here soon,” I assured him. “I’m sure he’ll undo them. And then I must go and fetch someone else to you. Someone I know you’ll want to see.”
Joy brightened John’s pallid features. “Lily?”
I nodded. “She’s been here every day,” I told him.
He furrowed his brow. “You have too,” he ventured. “Your face. I remember—”
I felt a flush in my cheeks. “Shhh. You must save your strength,” I interrupted him. “Lily will be here soon. You’ll want to be at your best.”
I hurried over to Carfax Hall as quickly as I could, though it was late and a chill wind sent wispy clouds scudding across the night sky.
I walked up the long drive toward the hall—and stopped short. A figure stood ahead of me in the moonlight, clad in white, walking through the grounds.
Her nightgown fluttered around her bare feet and she seemed to glide along the lawns. So eerie was her demeanour that a shiver crept up my spine. Was this some sort of apparition?
The figure walked on, drawing closer. I recognised the mass of dark hair and delicate frame. Lily! She seemed insensible to her surroundings.
I checked my instinct to call out to her, for I thought she must be sleepwalking. Father had taught me never to
shock a sleepwalker into wakefulness, so instead I hurried after her, overtaking her and turning to block her steady procession.
Her eyes were open—dark, vacant pools in the moonlit pallor of her face. She did not see me as she pressed forward with the same unerring step.
The stress of her brother’s illness must have driven her outside in the night, I thought. Poor Lily. So fragile. This is all simply too much for her.
“Lily …” I whispered her name. But she did not hear. Only when my fingers tightened around her arm did she seem to become aware of me. She looked at me with a haunted gaze, not really seeing.
“Lily,” I repeated, with all the gentle fondness I could summon. “Come inside now; it is cold.”
I led her in the direction of the house. But she paused and looked back in the direction she had been heading.
I followed her gaze. Nothing there but trees and a small, still lake, shimmering peacefully in the moonlight.
“We must go in, Lily,” I urged, pulling on her arm.
She stared blankly at me. Then her eyes rolled back and she fell into a dead faint. I gasped and just managed to catch her before she crumpled onto the ground.
With the weight of Lily in my arms, I looked around desperately for help. To my great relief, I saw Antanasia running toward us across the lawns.
Between us, Antanasia and I carried Lily to the house. As we entered I looked back, still searching for a clue to Lily’s delirious destination. Other than a solitary bat swooping over the lake, all was still.
I hurried inside to help Antanasia return Lily to the warmth of her bed.
“Mary?” Lily said groggily once returned to her bed. “What … what are you doing here?”
“I’ve come with good news, Lily,” I told her gently. “It’s John—his delirium appears to have broken. He is recovering, and he is anxious to see you!”
“Oh, Mary …” Lily breathed joyfully, “that is
wonderful
news!” She tried to sit up but was clearly exhausted, her sleepwalking episode testament to that.
I sat with her for a while until she eventually drifted off to sleep.
The moment we were certain that Lily was resting peacefully, Antanasia accompanied me to the front door and bade me a stiff good night.
I made my way back down the long drive, feeling exhausted after my long day. As I neared the wooded area by the gate, I noticed something lying on the grass. A sense of foreboding gripped my heart as I approached it.
It was a fallen deer, its pelt glistening with blood. I pressed my fingers to my lips when I found the fatal wound—a gaping tear in its throat.
The deer’s legs twitched one—twice, then fell still. Whatever animal had killed this creature was likely nearby.
Trembling, I hurried on through the heavy estate gates, now desperate to get to the familiar comfort of home.
Journal of
Mary Seward
21ST
S
EPTEMBER 1916
John was moved back to the general ward today. I was so pleased there was an available bed on the south-facing side—his window will look out onto the countryside.
After settling him into his bed, I drew back his curtain. “After so long in that dark cell, this view should do you a world of good,” I told him.
He gazed wistfully out the window at the trees and flower beds of England. It was his first view of home since leaving for the front. His face betrayed the emotion that he struggled not to show.
I fussed a bit with his sheets and his hand brushed mine. I looked up and found myself locked in his gaze.
“I have no need of sunny views, Miss Seward,” he said shyly. “Not as long as your visits brighten my day.”
I smiled as lightly as I could at his compliment, but even now my heart flutters to imagine that he could think of me so, even in jest.
22ND
S
EPTEMBER 1916
Today John asked for his journal. My cheeks burned, for it was still on my desk in my bedroom. I made an excuse to go home and rushed to collect it. On my return I told Sister I’d found the journal in the box of reading books we keep for the more recovered patients, where it must have been put by mistake.
Journal of
Lieutenant John Shaw
22ND
S
EPTEMBER 1916
How long it seems since I last put pen to paper in this journal.
I awoke two days ago to find the angel in my dreams sitting next to me. She is, in fact, Mary Seward—a local girl from Purfleet. Miss Seward has been looking after me since my arrival here at the sanatorium.
Yesterday, I was moved from my solitary cell to a bright sunny ward. No sooner was I settled than my darling sister, Lily, arrived to see me.
She embraced me as though I had returned from the dead, tears of joy trickling down her cheeks. She looked so happy that I am surprised she did not burst! I thought she would never stop weeping.
“Everything is going to be all right now, Lily,” I reassured her, but she would not let go her grip on my hand. I am glad she did not, for it was wonderful to feel her fond touch once again.
It is so strange to be away from the trenches. I cannot get used to the whiteness of the ward. When I awoke this morning, I thought I must be dead. The world was never this clean. At least not the world I’ve inhabited lately.
I feel so terribly tired, as if I have made a great journey—yet Miss Seward assures me I have been in bed for weeks.
Miss Seward … what shall I say about her? Though she is not the celestial creature I imagined, I hold fast to the notion that she is sent to me from above.
I remember little of the time when she cared for me. And yet I do remember her face, her tenderness. Though she will not admit as much, I am certain that she has been with me every day during my sickness.
Sommers, the guard in the secure area, hinted none too subtly at the state I have been in these past days. To think
that Miss Seward has seen me in such a state! The things she must have endured for my well-being! It is all I can do to hide my mortification.
I only thank God for her kindness and her tenacity. For it is she who saw me through the darkness clouding my mind.
I look forward to her visits each day. I believe they are as frequent as her supervisor, the stern head nurse, allows. When we talk, I feel as if I have known Miss Seward all my life. Her quick wit never fails to lift my spirits.
Her beauty matches her agreeable personality. Her hair is as golden and shining as my dear departed mother’s and her face holds a subtle prettiness. How wonderful to be back in a world where one can notice such things and take pleasure in them!
Today I believe that Miss Seward noticed me staring while she took my temperature, for she turned quite pink and put a hand to her hair self-consciously. I looked away then, but I could not help but smile.
My current circumstances ensure that Miss Seward and I speak every day. Once I am discharged, I hope she will agree to continue in my company. I long to show her how, in the very short time I have known her, she has grown quite dear to my heart.
The war is behind me now and I am determined to leave its horrors in the past. It is time to begin a new life. It is my hope that this life might involve Mary Seward.
Journal of
Mary Seward
22ND
S
EPTEMBER 1916
After my shift, I walked home with a happy heart. John seems to take pleasure in my company, and it is such a joy to see the newfound peace in his eyes. I even dare believe there is warmth in them when he rests his clear blue gaze on me.
The sun was sinking quickly below the trees as I strolled into the village. I saw a courting couple ahead of me, strolling arm in arm, clearly wrapped up in each other. I smiled, comfortable in their unwitting companionship.
But soon they stopped and turned toward each other. The gentleman, a tall, dark man, his face in shadow, bent down and kissed the girl in away I could not help but consider too passionate for a public place.
Doubtless they did not know I was behind them and supposed themselves to be alone. Still, the impropriety of it shocked me.
I turned down a different path, wishing to leave them in solitude. But I was not quick enough to avoid hearing the girl’s gasps of passion as her beau pulled her tightly to him and lowered his mouth to her throat.
To my relief, the couple remained oblivious to me. But
even now my cheeks flush red at the memory of their indiscretion.
They grow redder still when the memory leads me to thoughts of John. I cannot help but wonder what it must be like to be kissed in such a manner….
Journal of
Lieutenant John Shaw
23RD
S
EPTEMBER 1916
I fear I may have suffered some sort of relapse last night.
I had been drowsing and awoke feeling rather odd. The shadowy ward seemed to swim about me. As I gazed about, I caught sight of a figure standing in the doorway.
Panic gripped me—the figure was that of Captain Harker. There was no doubt in my mind. No mistake. Surely nobody else shared that imposing silhouette?
The figure moved down the ward toward my bed. I realised incredulously that though the light was behind it, the figure cast no shadow before it on the polished ward floor. I wanted to run, but I felt frozen in place—like a frightened deer.
My surroundings began to swim again. I do not
remember the figure reaching my bedside, but I awoke this morning with a horrible, uncertain feeling I have not had since the front.
I will not tell anyone about this nightmare, for now the doctor has taken away those hateful restraints, I would not want them back.
Journal of
Mary Seward
23RD
S
EPTEMBER 1916
This evening, when I returned to the ward from fetching fresh linen, I found a stranger standing at John’s bedside, watching intently while he slept.
“Who is that, Sister?” I asked immediately. The visitor was an officer, immaculately turned out and impressive in stature: tall and broad, with sleek black hair.
Sister raised an eyebrow. “You are very interested in
Lieutenant Shaw’s personal affairs, Miss Seward.”
“I’m sorry, Sister,” I apologised.
“It is the lieutenant’s commanding officer,” she told me, bending a little. “The very man who saved his life.”
“Captain Harker,” I murmured.
“How did you know that?” Sister looked surprised.
“Lieutenant Shaw, or perhaps his sister, Lily, mentioned him,” I replied quickly.
Sister must never know I have read John’s journal. And now, once again, I wished that I had not. For gazing at the captain, I could not forget his cruelty to Private Smith, his passion for battle, and the monstrous images John wrote about in his delirium.
“Captain Harker wants to know how Lieutenant Shaw is progressing,” Sister went on. “Why don’t you go and tell him?”
I nodded and walked slowly toward the man, struggling to quash my trepidation. John’s newly recovered psyche could not withstand this brutal reminder from the past. Best to give Captain Harker the information he sought and send him on his way, I reasoned.
“Hello,” I greeted the captain. “I’m Miss Seward. I understand you’ve come to inquire about Lieutenant Shaw’s health.”
“Good evening, Miss Seward. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. I am Quincey Harker, at your service.”
The gentleness of Captain Harker’s voice was unexpected and had the effect of throwing me off balance. I took his outstretched hand. “Captain Harker,” I replied. “How kind of you to visit the lieutenant.”
The handsome officer smiled down at me. “I could do
nothing else. I understand from Miss Shaw’s letters that you have been taking very good care of the lieutenant.”
Feeling uncomfortable under the intensity of Harker’s stare, I turned toward John. He continued to sleep peacefully.
“The lieutenant has emerged from his fever and grows in strength each day,” I told the captain. “But his mind has been badly scarred by his experiences in the trenches. The brutality of war affects some men that way.”
“Perhaps,” Captain Harker said, “but Shaw is strong. He will recover.” He spoke with a flat certainty that vexed me.
“I am doing everything in my power to ensure that he does,” I reported.
There was an awkward pause. After a moment, I gestured toward the door. “Thank you again for your visit, Captain Harker.”
Harker frowned slightly. “I understand your eagerness to be rid of me, Miss Seward. I am sure you have much to do.”
I bit my lip. Though I wanted Harker out of the hospital, I had not meant to be obviously rude. “I—I will let Lieutenant Shaw know you were here, of course,” I tried to recover myself.
Harker nodded. He made for the door. I could feel my anxiety easing with each step he took.
“If you like, I will update you on his progress,” I called after him. “Where may I write to you, sir?”
The captain turned. “That is most kind of you, but it will
not be necessary to write. I am staying at Carfax Hall. Miss Shaw has graciously invited me to be her guest.”
My eyes widened. I had to suppress a gasp. How could Lily invite a brutal man such as Captain Harker into her home?
Then I remembered—she had not read her brother’s journal. Only I had. To Lily, Harker was not a bloodthirsty warrior. He was the saviour who pulled her wounded brother from the battlefield.
“Will you be here in Purfleet for long, Captain?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly.
Harker smiled broadly. His long teeth were blindingly white. “My business in England may take some time, Miss Seward. I shall be staying indefinitely.”
Journal of
Lily Shaw
25TH
S
EPTEMBER 1916
Oh, Mother, how you would enjoy this! We are to have our first houseguest! It is John’s commanding officer, Captain Quincey Harker. When he wrote to tell me he was planning to visit, of course I invited him to stay at Carfax Hall.
I met Captain Harker at the entrance to the sanatorium this morning. He was just leaving John’s side.
When the captain greeted me, I confess, my breath was quite taken away. He is a most disarmingly tall and handsome man.
“You must be Miss Shaw,” he said softly. “I am Captain Quincey Harker.” He took my hand and bent his head to press his lips against my gloved fingers.
I had not expected the gesture, and at the touch of his lips I went quite light-headed. I admonished myself for being such a silly, sheltered girl. I quickly drew my hand in an effort to gather myself.
“John often mentioned you in his letters to me, Captain Harker,” I replied. “I felt from his words that you were a great strength and inspiration to him.”
I looked up into his aristocratic face and felt I might drown in his gaze. His eyes were deepest brown, fringed with long black lashes.
“Your brother is a fine soldier,” the captain said. “Take comfort. When John has recovered, he will be all the stronger from his experiences.”
“Do you really think so?” I asked, desperately wanting to believe the captain’s words.
“I am certain of it,” he assured me. And then he smiled.
How can I describe the quality of Captain Harker’s smile? His finely shaped mouth parted to reveal the whitest,
most perfect teeth I have ever seen. His beautiful eyes warmed to a golden colour.
“I should leave you to have some time alone with your brother,” he offered, stepping down from the entryway.
“Please stay,” I said, suddenly bereft at the prospect of losing his strong presence in this melancholy place.
“I would, but I’m afraid I have arrangements to make,” the captain apologised. “I am looking forward to joining you at Carfax Hall this evening. You are quite generous in extending your hospitality. Especially to a virtual stranger.”
“Think nothing of it,” I said immediately. “It is the least we can do to thank you for all you have done for John.”
Captain Harker gave a small appreciative bow. “That is most kind of you, Lily. Some home comforts are a welcome thought after the trenches.”
Captain Harker’s use of my given name stirred a warmth within me that I have never felt before.
Oh, Mother! To have a guest—and one so charming and agreeable! It is sure to dispel the loneliness I have felt all these years in our home. I can barely wait for the captain to have his belongings brought to the hall!
L
ATER
Mother and Father,
Before I sleep this evening, I must bring you more news
of our Captain Harker. He is now settled here at the hall.
Not wanting him to think me improper, I immediately explained our family situation. Antanasia would have to act in the dual role of housekeeper and chaperone—at least until John was well enough to come home to us again.
Captain Harker quickly put my mind at ease. He expressed sympathy for the terrible way I lost you, my dear parents, and admiration for my resilience given our circumstance.
I offered him the blue room, for it gets the morning sun. However, he confided in me that he suffers from a mild form of porphyria—a condition brought on by the mustard gas used at the front that causes great sensitivity to sunlight.
I had the red room prepared for him instead, as it remains in shade for most of the day.
We shared a most pleasant dinner this evening. I asked Antanasia to serve us in the dining room and to use the best china. I am so accustomed to sharing supper with her in the kitchen it was delightful to dress up and dine by candlelight.
“That is a lovely gown you are wearing,” the captain commented as I took my place at the table. “Is it from London?”
“Oh no,” I answered quickly. “I’m afraid you will think me terribly provincial, but there is a lady in Purfleet who makes all of my dresses.”
“Provincial? Not in the least. She is clearly a woman of taste,” Captain Harker noted. “That pale blue silk looks well against such pale skin. It sets off your delicate features.”
I was lost for words and found myself blushing.
What stories Quincey (for that’s what he now insists I call him) told me about the war and about his life before it! My dinner went quite cold as I listened, thrilled.
As he bent to sip from his wineglass, a raven wing of black hair fell across his noble brow. I longed to push it off his face, run my fingers through it. Such a thought, entering my mind unbidden, shocked me.
Antanasia hovered around the table the whole time. I suspect she is as taken as I am with our new houseguest and anxious to perform well in her role as chaperone.
Oh, Mother, Father, if only you could meet this astonishing man. It is uncanny—already, I feel as if we are old and dear friends.
Antanasia has suggested we hire a housemaid since we have company, and I told her to do so at once—I would hate for the captain to find us too rustic.
It quite amazes me. Since Quincey’s arrival I feel more certain than ever that everything in our little corner of the world will be all right again.
Journal of
Lieutenant John Shaw
26TH
S
EPTEMBER 1916
What tricks the stresses of war have played on my mind.
I have proof now. I am not mad, merely the victim of an uncommon set of circumstances.
I know this because Lily came to visit this evening—with Captain Harker at her side.
Miss Seward was sitting with me, as she does every evening. She was in the middle of relating a story when her face paled. I looked up and saw the approach of my imposing former commander. I must admit the sight of him caused my heart to race. Involuntarily I grasped Miss Seward’s hand.
“Hello, old chap!” Harker greeted me. “You’re looking fine. I knew you’d be back to your old self before long.” His words were filled with such cheery warmth that I had to shake my head. Was this affable man really the bloodthirsty fiend I’d seen on the battlefield?
Harker spoke to me animatedly and at some length about several topics, including the state of the war, his favourable impression of Purfleet, and his new role at the Foreign Office in London.
I was surprised to learn that he and Miss Seward had already made each other’s acquaintance. Further, I was astonished by Mary’s obvious discomfort in Harker’s presence. For after speaking with him for just a few moments, it was clear that he is no more a monster than I!
After some time, Sister called Mary to make her rounds of the other patients. She excused herself reluctantly.
Lily beamed happily at me, cheered by my good spirits.
“John, Captain Harker is going to be in England for quite some time,” she announced. “He is keen to keep an eye on your recovery. So I have invited him to stay at the hall. I hope you don’t mind.”
I frowned slightly at the news. My irrational fears about Harker were all but erased by his normal, friendly demeanour. But regardless, he was still a man of the world—and Lily a young, unmarried woman.
“Oh, John. Please do not tell me that this troubles you,” Lily cried when she noticed my expression.
“I am sorry,” I protested quietly, “but propriety dictates—”
“We have a chaperone,” Lily interrupted, anticipating my argument. “Antanasia is with us always, and when you are well enough, you will join us too! Quincey has already brought such life into Carfax Hall. And I am no longer lonely in our great home. Oh, please, John, I could not bear your disapproval.”
At that moment, I pitied my sister. Her life at the hall
was certainly difficult. Could I really begrudge her this companionship?
“Lily has been most hospitable,” Harker told me. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know her. She’s a wonderful girl. I wish I had such a caring and devoted sister.”
His words eased a bit of my worry. It was a very proper sentiment.
Lily blushed at the compliment. She hasn’t changed a bit. She always blushed at the drop of a hat.
I glanced from one to the other. Lily gazed at me expectantly. “Captain, we are glad to welcome you to our home,” I said.
Lily wrapped me in a great hug. We spoke a bit longer, then Lily and Captain Harker took their leave.
After they had gone, Mary came over to my bed. “How did you find the captain?” she asked.
“He seems well. It’s kind of him to come,” I answered.
“Yes. It did seem kind of him.” She looked at me most curiously and then she smiled as if dismissing some thought or other.
“Captain Harker is charming,” she commented. “I think your sister is quite taken with him.”
I shrugged. “It is nothing more than a schoolgirl’s crush, I am certain. But you are very astute to notice it.”
Colour warmed her cheeks. “Mother always joked that my sharp wits will stand between me and marriage.”
“Why? Intelligence would be a fine quality in a wife,” I replied.
Then self-consciousness gripped me. How horribly forward I must have sounded! Inwardly I could not deny my admiration for Miss Seward, but to say as much so blatantly …
“I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean …” I stammered.
“I know,” she replied quickly, smiling to banish our embarrassment. “But Lieutenant, do have a care for Lily. Captain Harker is …” She paused, then began a new. “I simply mean, a dashing officer can turn the head of even the most sensible girl.”
“I know. But Captain Harker is an honourable man,” I assured her. “I am quite sure that he will conduct himself with perfect propriety.”
Miss Seward seemed about to say something more. But then Sister called her, and she hurried off to see to another of her patients.
Journal of Mary Seward
26TH
S
EPTEMBER 1916