to offend him.”
Louisa gave a mighty sneeze, wiping her reddened nose on her embroidered handkerchief. “Oh, I’m sure you can find a way, Lucy. You’re so clever.”
Clever? Hardly. She gave a rueful inward chuckle. The only way she had managed her life thus far was to move into unfamiliar situations with wariness and crouch there until she became entirely comfortable. But this—this was different than trying to do well at the orphanage, or seeking a position as a governess. This meant meddling in another man’s life.
There was no guarantee that Ensign James Rowland would like or appreciate her interference, however good her intentions might be. He might be ashamed of her for discussing his impediment without his permission. Or he might be offended that Dr. Phillips was offering his services free of charge. The doctor’s offer might smack of charity to the ensign. And as a proud man, he might not be willing to accept it.
Or he could be angry on both counts.
She twirled a lock of her dark hair, staring out the window. Only one thing was certain. She must proceed with infinite caution.
* * *
“What ho, Rowland, it’s good to see you,” Cantrill said in a hearty tone of voice as he opened the door to his flat. “Come in, come in. My place is in a bit of uproar, pardon the mess. Mrs. Pierce is tidying up for my mother’s impending visit.”
Rowland stepped over the threshold, his hat in hand. Indeed, Cantrill’s flat—normally as neat and spare as a soldier would have it—was a welter of dusters, brooms, and carpet-beaters. Rowland shrugged and allowed Cantrill to lead him, zigzagging through the mess to the relative peace of the little parlor.
“What can I bring you? Tea? We’ll have to make it ourselves—Mrs. Pierce is far too busy at the moment to bother with refreshments, I’m afraid.” Cantrill motioned Rowland to a small chair near the hearth.
“Nothing...for me.” James cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He could speak to the lieutenant, it was true—but that didn’t mean his speech was free-flowing and unfettered. He must get to the heart of the matter. There was always the lurking fear that speech would elude him entirely if he took too long to come to the point.
Cantrill sat across from James, his normally pleasant face reflecting, perhaps, some of the confusion and exhaustion that his mother’s impending visit was causing in his flat. Funny, mothers could cause such mixed emotions. After all, James loved his mother and wanted to support her. But what if she were on her way to Bath right now to see him? He shuddered at the mere thought. No. He had definite sympathy for Cantrill today.
“I’ve come...about a job.” James cleared his throat again. “I must have—some occupation.”
Cantrill sat back in his chair and rubbed his hand across his brow. “Are you quite sure you’re ready for work, old fellow?”
The old anger and self-hatred began welling under the surface, causing James to swallow convulsively. “I’m not injured,” he muttered after an eternity.
“No, no of course not. But many of the other veterans, you know, are having a difficult time making this transition to civilian life. Some of them have elected to refrain from work for several months until they feel equal to the task of going to work every day.” Cantrill furrowed his brow, gazing over at him with a piercing gaze. “No need to rush things, you know.”
“I—I—I’m not.” James breathed deeply, calming the anger as it began bubbling over. Cantrill wasn’t meaning to condescend, after all. “Long p-p-past due. N-n-need to be useful for s-something.”
A flicker crossed Cantrill’s expression, as though he finally understood how very positive James was about seeking a position. “Very well,” he responded in a genial tone of voice. “What can you do?”
He paused. Not very much, he must admit. He’d been educated in the little country village with Mother bewailing their lost
Louisa gave a mighty sneeze, wiping her reddened nose on her embroidered handkerchief. “Oh, I’m sure you can find a way, Lucy. You’re so clever.”
Clever? Hardly. She gave a rueful inward chuckle. The only way she had managed her life thus far was to move into unfamiliar situations with wariness and crouch there until she became entirely comfortable. But this—this was different than trying to do well at the orphanage, or seeking a position as a governess. This meant meddling in another man’s life.
There was no guarantee that Ensign James Rowland would like or appreciate her interference, however good her intentions might be. He might be ashamed of her for discussing his impediment without his permission. Or he might be offended that Dr. Phillips was offering his services free of charge. The doctor’s offer might smack of charity to the ensign. And as a proud man, he might not be willing to accept it.
Or he could be angry on both counts.
She twirled a lock of her dark hair, staring out the window. Only one thing was certain. She must proceed with infinite caution.
* * *
“What ho, Rowland, it’s good to see you,” Cantrill said in a hearty tone of voice as he opened the door to his flat. “Come in, come in. My place is in a bit of uproar, pardon the mess. Mrs. Pierce is tidying up for my mother’s impending visit.”
Rowland stepped over the threshold, his hat in hand. Indeed, Cantrill’s flat—normally as neat and spare as a soldier would have it—was a welter of dusters, brooms, and carpet-beaters. Rowland shrugged and allowed Cantrill to lead him, zigzagging through the mess to the relative peace of the little parlor.
“What can I bring you? Tea? We’ll have to make it ourselves—Mrs. Pierce is far too busy at the moment to bother with refreshments, I’m afraid.” Cantrill motioned Rowland to a small chair near the hearth.
“Nothing...for me.” James cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He could speak to the lieutenant, it was true—but that didn’t mean his speech was free-flowing and unfettered. He must get to the heart of the matter. There was always the lurking fear that speech would elude him entirely if he took too long to come to the point.
Cantrill sat across from James, his normally pleasant face reflecting, perhaps, some of the confusion and exhaustion that his mother’s impending visit was causing in his flat. Funny, mothers could cause such mixed emotions. After all, James loved his mother and wanted to support her. But what if she were on her way to Bath right now to see him? He shuddered at the mere thought. No. He had definite sympathy for Cantrill today.
“I’ve come...about a job.” James cleared his throat again. “I must have—some occupation.”
Cantrill sat back in his chair and rubbed his hand across his brow. “Are you quite sure you’re ready for work, old fellow?”
The old anger and self-hatred began welling under the surface, causing James to swallow convulsively. “I’m not injured,” he muttered after an eternity.
“No, no of course not. But many of the other veterans, you know, are having a difficult time making this transition to civilian life. Some of them have elected to refrain from work for several months until they feel equal to the task of going to work every day.” Cantrill furrowed his brow, gazing over at him with a piercing gaze. “No need to rush things, you know.”
“I—I—I’m not.” James breathed deeply, calming the anger as it began bubbling over. Cantrill wasn’t meaning to condescend, after all. “Long p-p-past due. N-n-need to be useful for s-something.”
A flicker crossed Cantrill’s expression, as though he finally understood how very positive James was about seeking a position. “Very well,” he responded in a genial tone of voice. “What can you do?”
He paused. Not very much, he must admit. He’d been educated in the little country village with Mother bewailing their lost
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