Highest Stakes (51 page)

  "Aye. 'Tis very grave, I fear, this fever. Should ha'e broken by now."

  "His prognosis?" she prompted with trepidation.

  "Tenuous at best, lass."

  "Please let me sit with him, Dr. Pringle," she pleaded.

  He considered the request. "'Twill not hurt his cause, though I dared hope ye were another."

  Charlotte looked her question.

  "Are ye acquainted wi' a lady named Charlotte, lass?"

  Taken by surprise, she was unsure how to respond. "Y-yes. I am acquainted with such a young woman. Why do you inquire, sir?"

  "'Tis a name he mumbles, and I fear only her touch will stir him to fight for his life."

  "Let me try, Dr. Pringle. Please, I beg of you, please just let me sit with him and hold his hand. He will know my voice."

  He surveyed his patient gravely and then softened again under the imploring eyes. "It canna hurt for an hour, but not a moment longer." With this concession, Dr. Pringle departed to do his rounds in the other wards.

  Charlotte moved to pour a basin of cool water. Dipping a cloth, she lovingly bathed Robert's face, gently following the planes of his features. She achingly studied the hollow cheeks and bluish circles beneath his eyes and traced the line of his brow, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. "Dearest Robert," she whispered, "please come back to me." Gripping his limp hand, she brought it to her lips.

  Too preoccupied with her sorrow, she didn't immediately perceive the subtle change in his ragged breathing and the blink of his eyes in response to her whisper as he fought to distinguish whether the voice were reality or another dream.

  "How did this ever happen to us? I believed in my heart of hearts
we were meant to be. I ask God every day why our love was so curse
d while others so undeserving flourish. I can't comprehend, though I try." As she continued her prayerful weeping, her tears fell freely in rivulets down her cheeks, dropping unheeded onto their clasped hands.

  Dr. Pringle spied her thus when he returned to escort her from the hospital. Walking her back to the gate, he bowed politely. "Good-bye, miss…" Pringle looked embarrassed, addressing her apologetically. "So bad with names, lass."

  "Charlotte. Charlotte Wallace," she blurted, covering her mouth when she realized what she had let slip, as if she could pull back and trap the reply years of habit let spring so freely from her lips.

  "Indeed you say, lass." He grinned slyly. "If 'tis a secret ye guard, ha'e no fear. Upon my word as a Scotsman, 'twill stay betwixt us."

  "It's so very complicated, you see."

  "I'll not prod ye further."

  "Thank you, Dr. Pringle. May I come again on the morrow?"

"Aye, I'll leave word with the guard."

  Charlotte hurried back to Bedford Street, assuming Lady Susannah would follow the habits of a lady of fashion
, not risin
g before noon. She was thankful to have judged correctly. Her absence had gone unremarked.

  Rising shortly after sunrise the next day, Charlotte padded the bed with pillows in the event a maid should enter to start a fire and report her room empty. Making her way quietly downstairs and slipping out of doors, she had little success in hailing a hackney so proceeded to walk most of the way to Whitehall. Just as well, she considered, having little coin to spare.

  Arriving at the gate, her hackles rose upon encountering the same trooper who had hindered her the day before. Arming herself with a deep breath, she marched forth, prepared to do battle.

   The trooper's deferential greeting stole the wind from her sails. Clearly, Dr. Pringle had paved her way. "My apologies to ye, miss… er… missus, fer yesterday. I'd no idea, ye see…"

  Charlotte, in a much more charitable mood, responded with as much dignity as she could muster. "I shall endeavor to accept your apology for your abominable conduct of yesterday, Trooper…"

  "Wiggins, ma'am. Trooper Joshua Wiggins."

  "I will forgive your conduct yesterday, Trooper Wiggins, provided I can count on your discretion."

  "'Scuse me, ma'am?"

  "Your discretion, sir. As you pointed out so vividly yesterday, it is highly irregular for a
lady
to visit the sick rooms, thus I rely on your discretion to say nothing of it to anyone. Can I trust you, Trooper Wiggins?" She addressed him squarely.

  "If'n the surgeon general has authorized you, ma'am, 'tis clearly no concern of mine."

  "Thank you, Trooper Wiggins. I will be sure to commend you to my husband, the major."

  "Is there aught else you require, ma'am?" he inquired as he escorted Charlotte to the captain's room.

  "No thank you." She nodded a dismissal and entered. Closing the door quietly, she froze at the sound of a soft, deep voice. "Charlotte."

  Her breath caught. Had she imagined it? She revolved slowly, and their eyes met. After a moment of immobility, she suddenly flew to his side. Falling upon him, she cried, "You have come back! Robert, you've come back to me!"

  He was still pale and gaunt and his eyes glassy. "The fever broke late yesterday. 'Twould appear God deems it more fitting for me to die by hanging than by fever."

  "Hanging?" Charlotte gasped. "You are yet delirious."

  "On the contrary, my dearest love, I have quite recovered my senses and am informed that I am to face charges."

  "But how could they? You are still a patient in the sick bed."

  "I am deemed well enough. I have committed one of the greatest offenses, Charlotte. 'Tis unlikely I will live to see many more days. You should not have come, my love." He spoke the words devoid of emotion and refused to meet her eyes.

  "How can you say this? How can you hurt me so?" Her pain wrenched his heart, but he gazed stolidly through her.

  "My life is all but over, Charlotte. I was a fool. There is nothing left for us."

  "No! You don't mean it! There is always hope, Robert. Philip has pleaded a lesser charge, a lesser penalty. You could be acquitted."

  "The man is a liar, a traitor, a Judas! He is the very reason I am here and is not to be trusted! Promise me, Charlotte, that you will have nothing to do with him. Regardless of how matters progress, you must have
nothing
to do with Philip Drake!"

  "B-but, Robert, I—"

  "Give me your vow, Charlotte."

  Horror gripped her. He would never understand this deal she had made with the devil. Turning away to hide her guilt, she cried, "But there is no one else. As your superior, he is the only one who can help us."

  "Swear to me that you will not go to him on my behalf."

  Was it fear or guilt in her eyes?

  "I must needs explain—"

  "Explain what?" His suspicion kindled to rage. "What have you done? What deal have you made with him?"

  "Please, not now," she begged. "You could not possibly comprehend in this moment, in your present state of mind. Please let us speak of it later." She prayed for anything to buy her time to think of a plausible explanation for actions she could not creditably defend, any justification he might accept for her actions.

  "If you love me, you will tell me the truth and tell me now!" he demanded.

  Backed into a corner, she challenged, "If you love
me
, you will heed my request to discuss this later. All will be made right once you are acquitted."

  "Made right? Damn it, that's no answer! There will be no acquittal! For the last time, Charlotte…"

  She couldn't look him in the eye and lie, but she dared not tell the truth. Their world hung by a solitary thread. Drawing closer, she whispered against his face, "I
defy
you to doubt my love, Robert."

  She found his lips with all the love and pain she had harbored, and Robert softened in her embrace, but a flushing Trooper Wiggins interrupted the impassioned embrace.

  Clearing his throat, he discreetly announced his presence. "Mrs. Drake," he began tentatively, "Dr. Pringle gave strict orders…"

  Robert froze, his stricken gaze fixed on Charlotte. Unable to believe his ears, he repeated, "Mrs. Drake? Mrs. Drake! Charlotte, what the devil have you done?"

C harlotte
quit the hospital with only one thought, to find the man responsible for her anguish. She ran blindly out of the doors, crashing straight into Dr. Pringle, nearly knocking him flat as he arrived to make his morning rounds.

  "Whoa there, lass! What's amiss?" He lapsed into his native brogue in his excitement. "Has the young Devington ta'en a bad turn, ga'en doun the brae?" He directed his steps briskly toward the hospital door.

  "N-n-no, Dr. Pringle. He is much recovered, but I owe him an explanation I am unable to make. It would surely kill him!" she sobbed.

  "So you say, lass. I ken no such thing unless 'twould be his love wed another whilst he was in the sick bed."

  Charlotte gasped. "Then you knew all the time!"

  "Aye. Took no great genius to figure out. 'Twould appear the young captain got the bree o't."

  "Everything is such a muddle. It never should have happened this way."

  "But if indeed ye married another, it canna be undone, lass. 'Tis aw by nou."

  "But you don't understand! No one can understand! And no one can fix it save the man responsible!"

"At whose door do ye lay the blame, lass?"

  "Major Philip Drake," she hissed. "If it were not for him, Robert and I would have been happily wed in Scotland."

  "The major has his own troubles at the moment, lass. He was placed under arrest this very morning. He and the captain are both to face charges, once I proclaim the lad fit, that is." He eyed her sympathetically.

  "What charges, Dr. Pringle? What have you heard of the charges?" she begged.

  "There's the question. Several infantrymen witnessed a duel, though the major claims otherwise. Yet another mon has spoken of a kidnapping. 'Tis quite a scandal brewing. The commander in chief will wish the matter resolved expeditiously."

  Charlotte blanched. "What can be done? Surely, there must be something. I was also a witness of this so-called duel."

  "Were you now? Dare I presume you the one kidnapped?"

  "It was an elopement, Dr. Pringle. Robert and I were going to be married."

  "As I suspected, but there is naught you can do in any instance. 'Tis a military matter to be handled by due process."

  "But what of Robert? Is he to be imprisoned?"

  "Nay to that, lass. On my sacred honor, whilst under my care, I shall ensure he sees no walls beyond his hospital room. As for
your
husband
, an officer may be placed under arrest for only eight days. The matter will be resolved anon."

  "Are you sure there is nothing I can do for Robert?"

  "For the captain, nay, but ha'e ye no care for your husband?"

  "Philip Drake may rot in prison for all I care."

  "'Tis a wee harsh, lass."

  "The man is a traitorous, self-serving rogue," she replied, unmoved.

  "The mon I knew at Dettingen was as fine and brave an officer as I know and 'twas he who saved your captain's very life. Ye might consider this afore you heap many more curses upon his head."

  She lowered her eyes, abashed. "I'm sorry, Dr. Pringle, it's just circumstances…"

  "There's nay need to apologize, but I must beg your leave now. Much work to do and little time."

  "Dr. Pringle,"—she stopped him—"may I return?"

  "Only when ye think to ha'e it all sorted oot," he replied censoriously. "I'll not ha'e ye do more harm to my patient than good." The doctor dismissed her with a nod of good-day.

  Charlotte trod despondently back to her lodgings. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day. Perhaps she would think of some way to convince Robert of her unfailing devotion. Perhaps he would be in a better frame of mind to listen. But would he ever understand?

  She had acquiesced to the sham marriage only out of desperation. Her uncle would have surely made good on his threat to throw her out had she refused. But now trapped, she avowed to find a way out of this despicable arrangement the moment Robert was acquitted.

  Charlotte arrived at Number Ten Bedford, surprised to find Lady Susannah awaiting her.

  "Miss Wallace, you should not go out unchaperoned. London is a very dangerous place for a pretty young woman venturing out alone."

  Embarrassed and guilty at having been caught, Charlotte contritely stammered, "I-I was merely taking some air, madam."