Hope - Lesley Pearse [221]
Leading his horse, Angus walked back to the harbour beside her, and they talked about Bennett’s move, the Czar’s death, and the tremendous increase in the number of men reporting sick during January and February.
‘Morale is at an all-time low,’ he sighed. ‘We should have gone on the attack as soon as we got here last year. Lord Raglan is an old woman, can’t make his mind up about anything. Delaying only gave the Ruskies time to build better fortifications and get in more supplies. Now we’ve hardly got a fit man in the whole army. Even the new bunch that arrived in January look as bad as the oldtimers now. But you, Hope, you’ve got a bloom about you! Why’s that?’
‘Have I?’ she said in surprise.
‘You certainly have,’ he said, looking at her intently. ‘You’ve filled out. Have you found some source of good food that you are keeping to yourself? Or could it be a happy event is expected?’
Goose-pimples erupted all over her and she looked at the Captain in horror.
‘Not a happy event then,’ he said, but when she didn’t speak his grin faded. ‘Oh dear, I’ve been too presumptuous. I’m so sorry, Hope, but I’ve come to think of you almost as family. Forgive me?’
He meant, of course, that it wasn’t done for men to remark on such things as pregnancy. But her shock wasn’t at his comment, but the jolt of realization that she could well be carrying a child.
Bennett had been very careful every time they made love, for clearly it would be a calamity to become pregnant in a place like this. He always withdrew before his seed was spent, often to her disappointment. But on Christmas Eve he hadn’t.
It had been such a lovely evening, almost balmy, with a big, bright full moon. Some of the bandsmen from various different regiments had joined together to play their instruments on the quay. The pipers from the Highlanders came down from their camp too. For that evening the siege was forgotten. Music and singing were heard from the Russians inside Sebastopol, the French too were playing instruments up on the Heights, and not a shot was fired on either side.
Some of the Turks had slaughtered and roasted an ox. There were bottles of wine, port, brandy and rum in profusion and Hope had danced with scores of different men as there were so few women. She had bathed and put on the pink dress she’d worn on her honeymoon, and Bennett had looked so handsome in his full-dress uniform. She remembered thinking that the Rifles’ tight green jacket gave him a rakish charm and enhanced the colour of his eyes.
They had been very tipsy when they had finally gone to bed, and caution had been forgotten. Bennett had transported her to places she’d never dreamed of that night. Even recalling it now sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.
But however magical that night had been, they had shot straight back to reality soon afterwards. January had been the very worst month at the hospital, a bleak and desperate time with the sick coming in by the score each day. It was hardly surprising she couldn’t remember whether she’d had her courses that month or not.
‘Hope? Tell me I’m forgiven?’
Angus’s plea brought her back to the present. ‘Of course you are,’ she said hurriedly. ‘A country girl like me doesn’t get the vapours at a man mentioning such things.’
‘But you have turned a little pale,’ he said anxiously.
‘Oh, do talk of something else,’ she said irritably. ‘Tell me what you’ve been doing, it’s been so long since I last saw you. Has Nell sent you any more food parcels?’
He’d had a big fruit cake at Christmas, of which he’d brought her and Bennett half. Nothing had tasted quite as good as that, at least not until another arrived for Hope in mid-January along with jars of mincemeat, several different kinds of preserves and warm mittens and scarves.
‘I should think I’m about due for one any day,’ he said in his more usual jocular manner. ‘But of course now she has you to lavish her treats on, I’m not doing so well.’
They continued their walk, Angus remarking on all the improvements