Shoulder the Sky_ A Novel - Anne Perry [67]
Judith had never even considered the possibility of not going.
“Of course! I . . .” She gave the faintest smile, but she felt it burn through her like heat. “I have to. My job is out there. That’s who I am. And the people I love are there, too.” The truth of that rang in her voice with a conviction that startled her.
Belinda did not say so, but her admiration was so intense it blazed in her eyes and in her soft, answering smile.
Dinner was served and Judith concentrated intensely, measuring every word so as to tell Prentice’s family as much as she could about his life and his achievements.
She said no more about the details of trench life, there was no need for them to know. Let them sleep as easily as they could. Grief was more than enough to bear. She tried instead to say the decent things about Prentice himself. It was difficult to be specific, as if she had actually known him, without also mentioning his appalling behavior, which had ended with Wil Sloan beating him almost senseless. She could not think quickly enough to avoid lying, so she did, with embarrassing fluency.
When they spoke of Cullingford, with a remoteness that twisted inside her, she imagined how it must have hurt him and she changed the subject.
“But how did he get so far forward?” Belinda asked a second time. “I thought war correspondents stayed well behind the fighting? They all share the information anyway, don’t they? That’s what Eldon said.”
“Yes, they do,” Judith agreed quickly.
“Then why did Uncle Owen send Eldon out into no-man’s-land? That’s where you said he was found!”
“The general didn’t send him.” Judith denied it. Please God that was at least half true. Was it possible that Hadrian had heard his anguish and in loyalty done what Cullingford could not do for himself? The fear gripped hard and tight inside her. King Henry II had cried out “who will rid me of this turbulent priest?,” and his men in mistaken loyalty had murdered Thomas à Becket, and Henry had paid in guilt for the rest of his life.
“How could he do that? He knew Eldon wasn’t a soldier!” Mrs. Prentice demanded accusingly. She was still seeking blame; it was so much easier to explode in anger than face the appalling void of grief.
Judith swallowed. “Mr. Prentice was very keen to see things the other correspondents hadn’t and to gain his own experiences,” she answered. “He insisted that he be given a wider permission, and he used the general’s name to gain it. No one ever intended he should go ‘over the top’ with the raiding party.” She saw the anger harden in Mrs. Prentice’s face. “He was young and he was brave,” she added hastily. “He knew the risks, and he still chose to go.”
Mrs. Prentice’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you.” She took a shaky breath. “It was very good of you to come.”
“General Cullingford asked me to, and it was no trouble at all,” Judith replied. “I’m so sorry for the reason.”
Belinda smiled at her quickly, a flash of gratitude and understanding, then they turned to other subjects. It was late evening by the time Judith finally left.
She arranged to meet Matthew for dinner the following evening, and waited for him in a restaurant crowded with people all talking earnestly. She heard snatches of news about the war, but much of the conversation was about the latest play, the political news in Westminster, speculation of changes—even exhibitions of art and science. Two young women were excited about a moving picture starring Charlie Chaplin and Marie Dressler.
Ten minutes later she saw Matthew in the entrance. His uniform caught her eye before she recognized who he was. He was the same height as Joseph, but a little broader across the shoulders, and fair-haired. He had the same strong nose, and hint of humor around the mouth. He looked very tired, as if he also had been up too many nights and could not easily shake off the anxieties of knowing and caring more than he wanted to.
It took him a moment to see her, then he smiled and strode over to her.