Read Online William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise by Anne Perry - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne Perry
Ads: Link
understood.
She must find an answer which did not make Perdita feel even more helpless and excluded.
“It is easier for me,” she began, watching Perdita’s face. “We are not emotionally concerned with each other. There cannot be the same … the same sort of hurt. We were discussing places we had been to, what it was like, the things that are different, and those that are the same.”
“Oh …”
Had Perdita disbelieved her? It was impossible to tell from her downcast expression and the hesitation in her voice. Her loneliness was so sharp it was almost like a cry.
“I told him a few of my experiences in the Crimea,” Hester went on, impelled to add to what she had said.
“The Crimea?” Perdita did not immediately understand. Then realization flooded her face. “You were in the Crimea?”
Hester perceived instantly that she had made a mistake. Perdita had heard and read enough to know that that conflict, with its horror and its losses, had had so much in common with the Mutiny in India that Hester and Gabriel must share feelings and memories she could never know. It was clear in her eyes that she was uncertain how she felt about it. Part of her was relieved, grateful that there was someone he could turn to; another part, easily as great, felt frightened and excluded because it was not her.
“Yes.” It would be absurd to deny it. “That is where I learned my nursing abilities. I imagine that is why your brother-in-law chose me to come here.”
“So you could talk to Gabriel?”
“Rather more so I would have some knowledge of what his needs would be,” Hester answered.
Perdita stared at the embers of the fire. “He doesn’t think I can learn to do that. He doesn’t think I will be any use or comfort at all.”
What was there to say that was even remotely honest and yet not so hurtful it was destructive?
“Sometimes there isn’t anything you can do,” Hester began, thinking what more to say, feeling for words. “At times he may wish to speak of the Mutiny and of what happened at Cawnpore, other times he will want to forget it. No one can know when each will be.”
“You mean it is easier for you?” Perdita said.
“In some ways, yes, of course it is. Not just because I have seen a battlefield …”
“Can you tell me what it is like?” Perdita asked, eagerness and dread mixed in her voice. “So I can understand Gabriel? He won’t tell me anything about it. I was at home when he was in India, and my father wouldn’t even allow me to read about it in the newspapers. He said it was not suitable … for me or for my mother.” She bit her lip. “He said we didn’t have to know things like that, and anyway it was only a journalist’s idea of the truth and might be inaccurate and overdramatic.Now it’s too late because the newspapers are all thrown away ages ago.”
“You can always go to the library and find the back copies, if you want to,” Hester pointed out. “But I am not sure if that would be a good thing. Do you wish to know about it … as much as can be understood by reading?”
The fire crackled and threw up a shower of sparks.
Perdita sat very still. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think so, then there are times when I wish it never had to be thought of again and I’m glad I know nothing.” She took a long breath and shook her head a little. “I just wish it would go away and everything could be as it used to … before the Mutiny. None of that mattered then.” She sniffed. “I could have gone out to Delhi, or Bombay, or wherever was the nearest place to where Gabriel was. I could have been with him, and none of these things would have happened!”
“He wouldn’t have seen things like the massacre at Cawnpore,” Hester agreed. “But he would still have lost his friends, and he might still have received his own injuries. That can happen anywhere.”
“Not in England!” Perdita said, looking up quickly.
“Yes, it could. People can be dragged by
She must find an answer which did not make Perdita feel even more helpless and excluded.
“It is easier for me,” she began, watching Perdita’s face. “We are not emotionally concerned with each other. There cannot be the same … the same sort of hurt. We were discussing places we had been to, what it was like, the things that are different, and those that are the same.”
“Oh …”
Had Perdita disbelieved her? It was impossible to tell from her downcast expression and the hesitation in her voice. Her loneliness was so sharp it was almost like a cry.
“I told him a few of my experiences in the Crimea,” Hester went on, impelled to add to what she had said.
“The Crimea?” Perdita did not immediately understand. Then realization flooded her face. “You were in the Crimea?”
Hester perceived instantly that she had made a mistake. Perdita had heard and read enough to know that that conflict, with its horror and its losses, had had so much in common with the Mutiny in India that Hester and Gabriel must share feelings and memories she could never know. It was clear in her eyes that she was uncertain how she felt about it. Part of her was relieved, grateful that there was someone he could turn to; another part, easily as great, felt frightened and excluded because it was not her.
“Yes.” It would be absurd to deny it. “That is where I learned my nursing abilities. I imagine that is why your brother-in-law chose me to come here.”
“So you could talk to Gabriel?”
“Rather more so I would have some knowledge of what his needs would be,” Hester answered.
Perdita stared at the embers of the fire. “He doesn’t think I can learn to do that. He doesn’t think I will be any use or comfort at all.”
What was there to say that was even remotely honest and yet not so hurtful it was destructive?
“Sometimes there isn’t anything you can do,” Hester began, thinking what more to say, feeling for words. “At times he may wish to speak of the Mutiny and of what happened at Cawnpore, other times he will want to forget it. No one can know when each will be.”
“You mean it is easier for you?” Perdita said.
“In some ways, yes, of course it is. Not just because I have seen a battlefield …”
“Can you tell me what it is like?” Perdita asked, eagerness and dread mixed in her voice. “So I can understand Gabriel? He won’t tell me anything about it. I was at home when he was in India, and my father wouldn’t even allow me to read about it in the newspapers. He said it was not suitable … for me or for my mother.” She bit her lip. “He said we didn’t have to know things like that, and anyway it was only a journalist’s idea of the truth and might be inaccurate and overdramatic.Now it’s too late because the newspapers are all thrown away ages ago.”
“You can always go to the library and find the back copies, if you want to,” Hester pointed out. “But I am not sure if that would be a good thing. Do you wish to know about it … as much as can be understood by reading?”
The fire crackled and threw up a shower of sparks.
Perdita sat very still. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think so, then there are times when I wish it never had to be thought of again and I’m glad I know nothing.” She took a long breath and shook her head a little. “I just wish it would go away and everything could be as it used to … before the Mutiny. None of that mattered then.” She sniffed. “I could have gone out to Delhi, or Bombay, or wherever was the nearest place to where Gabriel was. I could have been with him, and none of these things would have happened!”
“He wouldn’t have seen things like the massacre at Cawnpore,” Hester agreed. “But he would still have lost his friends, and he might still have received his own injuries. That can happen anywhere.”
“Not in England!” Perdita said, looking up quickly.
“Yes, it could. People can be dragged by
Similar Books
