Gallant Waif by Anne Gracie (best ereader manga .TXT) 📕

today was proving to be one of those days; first a bird’s nest had fallen down the chimney right into the bouillon which had just reached aromatic perfection. And it was baking day, but the dough stubbornly refused to rise. And the kitchen had been cluttered with damp washing for days.

And she’d been sleeping badly, ever since the accident. That was his fault, too!

Kate saw him only at breakfast. She would not have admitted it to a soul, but she knew she only really started to breathe each morning when he limped through the kitchen door, those tell-tale white lines of pain around his mouth. It was only a matter of time before he injured himself seriously, and they both knew it, but the man was so stubborn!

Last night she’d slept even worse than usual, alternately dreaming of him and worrying about him. She’d awakened feeling scratchy and irritable. And then the wretched man had lurked! Underfoot! All day! Observing each disaster!

So now justice was served, and the sounds of his violent expectorations were as music to her ears. Still chuckling, Kate wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron. He re-entered the kitchen, wiping his mouth, which was still puckered at the lingering after-taste.

“Are you trying to poison me?” He grimaced again and scrubbed at his mouth with his handkerchief. “What the hell was that foul stuff anyway?”

“Spermacetti oil, white wax, almond oil,” she said, between giggles. “I haven’t yet added the lemon oil and lemon juice.”

He choked. “Spermacetti oil? You were planning to feed me whale oil? That’s for burning in lamps!”

Kate giggled again. It was a new recipe she was trying— guaranteed to remove freckles. “I do not usually feed my cold cream to gentlemen, no matter how hungry—or greedy—they are.”

“Cold cream?”

“Cold cream.”

“Hrmph!” He turned away. His ears turned slightly pink. Another giggle escaped her.

He continued to fidget for some minutes, then finally he spoke. “Pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit down, Miss Farleigh. I wish to talk to you.” His voice was serious.

She fetched two cups and placed them on the table, still trying to keep a straight face. Eventually she met his gaze. He looked away, and the laughter died in her eyes. This really was serious.

“That brother of yours—you say he was able to regain the use of his leg?”

“Yes, completely,” she murmured, her pulse beginning to race.

“Because of the treatment you described to me?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, trying hard to suppress her rising jubilation.

“And you think my leg may benefit from similar treatment?”

“I am no medical expert but, yes, I think it would help.” She swallowed convulsively. “At least… I cannot say if your leg will be completely restored, but I firmly believe there would be significant improvement.”

“Because of your brother.”

There was considerable scepticism in his voice, but Kate detected a grain of hopefulness. It was time to tell him the truth. It might cost her his respect, but if he could be convinced to try the treatment he might regain full use of his leg. Faced with that option, there was no choice but to risk it.

“Not only because of my brother—there were many others.”

“Others?”

“Yes, I saw this treatment used on many of our soldiers and, in almost every case, it brought some improvement.”

“And naturally there were hundreds of wounded soldiers in the village in…where did you say my grandmother found you—Bedfordshire?”

“No, of course not, but I saw hundreds of wounded soldiers in Spain and Portugal.”

He was incredulous. “You were in Spain and Portugal?”

She nodded.

“In wartime?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“For the last three years.” “On your own?”

She flushed. “With my father. And my brothers, where possible.”

“What was your father doing there? Surely he was too old to be in the army.”

“My father felt he was needed more on the Peninsula than in his parish in Bedfordshire.”

“So he just packed up his Bible and went?” he said sceptically.

“Yes, indeed. Though you would have to have known my father to understand. Once he had made up his mind there was no gainsaying him.”

“But what of you?”

She looked at him in mild surprise. “I went with him, of course. He was a brilliant scholar, but hopelessly impractical in the domestic field. He had no notion at all of how to procure lodgings or food or any of the other things so necessary to life in a country torn by war.”

“And you had?”

She looked at him in surprise. “Yes, of course.” She flushed, realising she must sound boastful. “Well, not at first, but I soon learned. And once I was able to speak some of the language it became much easier.”

“Incredible. You were—how old—seventeen, eighteen?”

“At first, yes.”

“And you did not mind?”

She opened her eyes at that. “No, I did not mind.” She grimaced wryly. “Remember my unladylike hands? They’re a sign of a terrible hoyden, I’m afraid. I had some of the best times of my life travelling with the army… I see I’ve shocked you.”

“No, not at all. But. . .did you not experience a great deal of hardship?” Jack knew several officers’ wives who had gone to war, but all of them had had servants to see to everything. And a husband to protect them. A girl who wore the sort of clothes Kate had arrived in certainly would not have had many servants.

“Oh, naturally there were times I wished we were not having to sleep in a dirty, vermin-infested village, or ride for hour after hour in the pouring rain or the sweltering heat—I am not unnatural, you know! But at least it was never dull. There was always something to be done and someone to talk to.”

She could not explain to him how she’d almost welcomed such discomforts because they highlighted her usefulness to her father, making him value her for the first time in her life.

“But the danger. Did your father not consider that?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” She was indignant at the slur. “Why, at Badajoz he kept me virtually confined to my tent for more than a week.”

Jack gasped. “You were at