Mary nodded. ‘That is very good news, Robbins.’
How could information be so welcome and yet so bitter?
Swallowing a sigh, she dipped her pen in the ink again and finished her letter.
* * *
The food put heart into Randall. He felt as weak as a kitten, but a good night’s rest should put that right. And in the morning he would see Mary, make his peace with her. Robbins had told him she was still here, that surely was a good sign. Sleep came quickly, but it was disturbed by dreams. At one point he dreamed he woke up. It was very dark and someone was standing by the bed. Mary. He recognised the smell of her, the no-nonsense scent of fresh linen and soap with just a hint of sweet herbs. He did not move as she leaned over him, her lips brushing his temple and he heard her soft words.
‘Goodbye, my love.’
* * *
‘Good morning, my lord. I took the liberty of bringing your breakfast.’
Randall opened his eyes and peered blearily at Robbins. It took him a few moments to realise where he was and how he felt. He had had his first night’s sleep without laudanum and for once his head was clear. He felt hungry, too. Robbins eased him up on to the pillows before setting the breakfast tray across his legs.
‘Thank you, Robbins. Since it was you who brought my supper I thought Miss Endacott might be tending me this morning.’
‘Miss Endacott has gone, sir.’
‘The devil she has!’ He remembered his dream. ‘When did she leave?’
‘Around midnight, sir.’
Goodbye, my love.
‘She left a letter for you.’ Robbins drew a folded paper from his pocket and held it out. After a moment’s hesitation Randall took it and scanned its contents. Suddenly having a clear head was no advantage. She had spelled out the reasons why they would not suit all too well and ended with an instruction—nay, a plea—that he did not try to find her. Carefully he folded the paper and put it down on the covers.
‘My lord, if I may—’
‘No, you may not!’ He clenched his teeth together, holding back the anger and frustration that boiled within him. ‘I beg your pardon, Robbins, I should not snap at you. Leave me now, if you please. I will call you when I have broken my fast.’
Robbins went out, closing the door behind him quietly, as if trying not to exacerbate his master’s already frayed temper. Randall stared at the tray before him. His appetite was quite gone.
* * *
For three days Randall held off from writing to Mary. He was too weak to get up, but he found he could deal with most of his military business from his bed, having made up his mind to quit the artillery and return to England. There was much to do to put his affairs in order. The army had moved on to Paris, chasing Bonaparte, but he was kept busy writing reports and composing letters of condolence to the families of his men who had died in battle—those Rogues who had a family. Officers came and went, to report or carry away his orders. It was tiring, but nothing like as difficult as his first visitor, his sister Sarah.
The girl seemed to have grown up a great deal during the past few days, she was much more self-assured. Randall wanted to rip up at her about her liaison with Major Bartlett, but his first words brought a flash of fire into her eyes and he held his tongue. Mary’s words came back to him. Sarah was a woman now with a mind of her own. And besides, who was he to reprimand her? However, when she asked how Gideon had died he made no attempt to fob her off. She deserved to know the truth. In the retelling of it he was obliged to relive the terrible moment of cradling his younger brother in his arms as the life went out of him. Not only that, but Sarah berated him for his treatment of Mary. He deserved it, he knew that only too well, but when Sarah told him how Mary had led the search for him, how she had entered into the barn to look for him amongst the dead, the agony of what he had lost, how he had wronged her, was more painful than any sabre cut.
The injustice of it worried away at him and eventually he wrote a note for Mary. It was returned, unopened, together with the information that Miss Endacott had left Brussels and would not be coming back. Randall crushed his carefully worded letter into a ball and hurled it across the room.
‘Fine lady, Miss Endacott,’ remarked Robbins, in response to the stream of quiet invective flowing from his master’s lips. He bent to pick up the mangled paper. ‘Quiet, like, but very determined, in her own way. It was quite an eye-opener, I can tell you, the night they brought you back here, to see how the Rogues deferred to her, as if she could make everything right. And then she wouldn’t take the brigade surgeon’s word for it that there was nothing to be done for you, but insisted on bringing in her own doctor—’
‘Yes, yes, all right!’ Randall sighed and cast a rueful eye at his batman. ‘I handled it very badly, didn’t I?’
‘I’m afraid you did, sir.’
‘And now she’s left town and gone heaven knows where.’ His clenched fist struck the bedcovers. ‘If only I wasn’t tied to the bed, weak as a cat, I’d go and find her, wherever she may be.’
Robbins grinned, saying cheerfully, ‘One step at a time, my lord. We’ll get you out of bed today and it won’t be long before you’re on your feet again, I’m sure.’
Randall knew his man was right. A few hours in the chair was all he could manage that afternoon.
* * *
When Dr Lebbeke came to see him the following day he demanded irritably how long he could expect to be incarcerated indoors.