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“S hhhhh!” Nurse Williams said.

“What? The hospital’s going to be closed?” the patient in the first bed called out.

“The hospital is closing?” the man in the bed next to him asked.

Within minutes, every patient who was awake was talking about the imminent closure of the hospital—some even going so far as to try to get up to leave.

“Stop! Stop!” the doctor called out. “This hospital is not closing! The building is being sold, but the hospital will not close. Now calm down everyone!” He turned and glared at the nurses as he said the last bit.

They looked duly reprimanded.

Ellen pulled Nurse Williams aside. “Did your brother tell you who the current owner of the building was? Maybe I can speak with him.”

She just shook her head. “No, he was simply to write up the papers but hasn’t yet been given the names of the parties involved. Even if he were, he wouldn’t tell me. That’s privileged information.”

“Well, so is the fact that the building is going to be sold at all,” Ellen commented.

The woman just shrugged.

“Very well. I’ll see if I can make some inquiries.”

“But even if we knew who owned the building now, what could we do? I doubt the bank would buy the building. If they were interested in doing that, I’m sure they would have a long time ago.”

“Yes, you’re right. But there must be something…” Ellen’s mind was working, turning in circles as she analyzed the problem. She put a consoling hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It will work out. Somehow, I’m sure it will work out.”

“I just wish I could have such confidence.”

~*~

Christopher felt like a completely new man. Suddenly he was free to go out and behave normally. He still found himself automatically turning his head so people only saw the right side of his face, but he was no longer terrified of walking out of his house. And he tried his hardest not to watch to see the reaction of those he met. He simply had to hope that people on the street were as polite as Lady Moreton’s friends and the gentlemen at his club.

Best of all, he no longer felt compelled to confine himself to a darkened corner at Powell’s. Most of the enjoyment of going out to a club was speaking with people. He wasn’t quite ready to attempt the gaming room, and he did find a seat on the left side of the room so that the unscarred side of his face showed outward, but still. It was nice to sit among the other men.

He was doing so that evening when an older gentleman approached the empty chair across from him and asked, “Anyone sitting here?”

“No. Not at all,” Christopher said, indicating that the gentleman take the seat.

“Sherman,” the man said, holding out a hand. “Harold Sherman.”

“Ah, Lord Major Christopher Pennyston,” Christopher said, reaching out and shaking the man’s hand. He then shook his head and laughed. “Sorry. I suppose I’m no longer a major. I’ve added my rank in there for so long that I keep forgetting not to.”

“When did you get out of the army? Recently, I suspect?”

“Nearly a year ago,” Christopher told him.

“That long? And you’re still thinking of yourself as an officer?”

“Been convalescing,” Christopher admitted. He turned his face slightly so that man could see his scar but not the full brunt of it.

He tsked . “Nasty, that one. Well, at least you still have all your limbs.”

“What an excellent way to think of it. I’ve always thought that I’d lost a face, but you’re right. I am grateful to not have lost anything else.”

Mr. Sherman laughed. “Lost your face. Good one!”

Christopher hadn’t actually meant it as a joke, but he didn’t mind that the fellow took it as one. “Sherman? You wouldn’t happen to be related to a Miss Sherman making her debut this season, would you?”

The man’s smile couldn’t have gotten any bigger. “Yes, I am. You’ve met my little beauty, eh? Danced with her, I hope?”

“Oh, no! I haven’t yet been to any society parties. We met the other day at the park, though. She was out riding with Lady Saint Vincent?”

“And Bel. Yes. Good girls, those Kendrick twins. My Gwendolyn went to school with them—Bee and Bel. Hard for me to think of them as lady anything. They’re still little girls to my mind.” He chuckled.

“Can you tell them apart?” Christopher asked curiously.

“Me? No! Don’t really know anyone who can. Even Gwendolyn has trouble at times. They used to wear bracelets—one with the little bee on it, the other with a little bell. Cute, eh?”

Christopher smiled. “Indeed.”

“So, where were you stationed, if you don’t mind talking about it?” Mr. Sherman asked.

“No. I was in Malta for three years and then in the Peninsula.”

“Ah, nasty business that. I’ve heard horrible stories of the goings on there. Don’t know much about Malta. Have we seen action there recently?” he asked.

“No, which is why I asked to be transferred,” Christopher said with a sad smile. “Probably not the most intelligent move, but I was eager to get involved.”

“Well, of course you were! Why you joined up, right?”

“Yes. And why my father made sure I was sent to Malta,” Christopher said with a laugh.

“Watching out for his boy. Can’t fault a father for that,” Mr. Sherman said, accepting a glass of brandy from a footman.

“No, but I wasn’t interested. I wanted action. I wanted to lead men into battle.”

Mr. Sherman gave him an indulgent smile. “And so you did. And your men followed you willingly?”

“More than! They were as anxious as I.”

Mr. Sherman nodded. “It takes some skill leading men that foolhardy—or were you one of those who just say ‘have at it’?”

“No, no. My men were well trained by the time we engaged. Of course, they were mostly that way when I got there, but then we practiced drills even more.”

“How so?” Sherman asked with a tilt of his head.

“Exercises to keep everyone together. Moving as one or working in tandem with one another. I had them take down and put back our camp again and again, not only so it could be done quickly and efficiently, but to force them to work together as a team.”

Sherman nodded. “Excellent, excellent. Such work is extremely important. I, myself, run factories, and it’s very much the same thing. Everyone is working side by side on the same thing. Sometimes they need to work as, you say, a team, trusting the one before them to complete their job well so they can do theirs.”

“Exactly. We were like clockwork, the most disciplined company in the battalion,” Christopher agreed. Those were good days when he and his men worked together. Christopher sighed. “Well, now here we are. Are your factories running without you?”

“Yes. I’ve got managers now taking care of everything. Let’s me see to my girl. Some things are more important.”

~May 11~

Ellen was relieved it was Wednesday. Wednesday meant the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society, and that meant she had someone to speak to—many someones—about her problems.

It wasn’t that she didn’t speak with Aunt Amelia; she did. She just had more faith in the ladies and their problem-solving skills.

She showed up to Lady Ayres’ home early. Only Ladies Ayres and Blakemore were there when she arrived.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” she said. She joined the two women at the tea tray.

“Good afternoon, Lady Moreton. You’re here early today. Did you not go to the hospital this morning?” Lady Blakemore asked with a kind smile.

“No. I was there yesterday,” Ellen told her as she accepted a cup of tea from Lady Ayres. She turned to that lady. “I have an odd request.”

“Oh?” Lady Ayres looked at her expectantly.

“I know that we haven’t yet finished our current game, but… well… everyone else has already revealed their secrets, so I know it will most certainly be my turn next.”

“You don’t know that, my lady. Someone else might end up losing and have to reveal a second secret,” Lady Ayres said kindly.

“Yes, I suppose that’s possible. However, considering all that I’ve suddenly found myself faced with I am absolutely certain I will lose—my mind just isn’t in the game. Would you mind very much if I revealed my secret today and asked for help?” Ellen asked. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears just saying these words. She didn’t necessarily want to reveal her secret, but as she’d lain awake half the night thinking of the hospital and her husband, she knew this was her best recourse.

Lady Ayres looked slightly surprised. She shared a look with Lady Blakemore who quickly said, “Why don’t we ask the others. I’m sure no one will mind, but it is best to be certain.”

Ellen nodded. “That sounds perfectly fair.”

The others joined them. As Diana, the last to arrive, closed the door behind her, Lady Ayres called out, “Ladies, ladies, may I have your attention.”

Everyone quieted down quickly and turned toward her.

“Good afternoon, everyone.” She looked around the room.

“Good afternoon,” many replied.

“We have an unusual request from Lady Moreton,” Lady Ayres said. “She would like to reveal her secret today, despite the fact that she has not actually lost the game. In fact, we are not scheduled to finish our game for another week. Does anyone here object to her sharing with us?”

There was some stunned silence. Ellen simply wrung her hands in her lap, like a criminal awaiting her sentence.

“I’m sorry, Lady Moreton, you want to share your secret?” Lydia clarified.

“Yes. Actually, I have two issues I would appreciate your help with. For one, I will need to share a secret I have told absolutely no one. For the other… well, I simply would like your thoughts and ideas. I’m certain you all will be able to help.”

“We are always here to help in any way,” Duchess Bolton said quickly.

“Yes,” Lady Sorrell agreed as did a number of the other ladies.

“Very well, then,” Lady Ayres said. “Since there seems to be no objections, Lady Moreton, the floor is yours.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Ellen said. She could feel her throat tightening, as if trying to keep her words inside. She would force them out, if necessary, because she knew in her heart that if anyone could help, it would be these ladies. She took a deep breath. “I received a letter the other day… from my husband.”

There were a few gasps and a number of confused looks.

“I thought your husband had passed?” Lady Gorling asked.

“I had thought so too,” Ellen said. “It turns out he wasn’t actually killed in battle but merely injured. He was nursed back to health by a kind elderly couple. In return, he stayed with them and helped them—I’m not certain in what way, his letter was not explicit. He simply said that they’ve been very kind to him, and he, in return, has been helping them.”

“And he never thought to inform you that he was alive?” Lydia asked, clearly shocked.

“Apparently not,” Ellen said. She forced away the anger at his irresponsible behavior that had been teasing her for the past few days. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Now, the gentleman caring for him has insisted that he take care of his responsibilities, ergo, I received his letter. He will be returning to England soon.”

“How do you feel about this?” Diana asked.

Ellen looked her in the eye and answered her succinctly, “Angry.”

“Well, I should think so!” Lady Blakemore exclaimed.

“I would be furious,” the duchess agreed.

There was a general agreement.

“But there is more,” Ellen said, interrupting some side conversation that had begun.

“What more could there be?” Lady Ayres asked.

“He has requested a dissolution of our marriage,” Ellen told them.

“An annulment?” Lady Sorrell asked.

“Wouldn’t you have to prove that your marriage was never consummated?” Lydia asked and then immediately turned bright red and whispered, “Please excuse me.”

Ellen reached out and gave Lydia’s hand a squeeze. She was seated directly next to Ellen, so it was an easy reach. “That is my big secret.” She turned and looked around the room. “Richard and I were raised together. We married because it was expected of us, and he was leaving for war. He wanted to ensure I would always be cared for, no matter what happened to him or his parents.”

“A good man,” the duchess said, nodding so vigorously her chins wobbled.

“He is… or was,” Ellen agreed. “I honestly don’t know what sort of man he is now. I wonder whether I shouldn’t try to convince him to give our marriage a real try. We were together for all of twelve hours before he left to join his regiment.”

“You were together for a night, during which nothing happened,” Lady Blakemore confirmed.

“Yes. Actually, he spent most of it with his friends.” Ellen remembered being so anxious before the wedding, and then annoyed he had chosen to spend the night carousing with his friends rather than be with her. She was angry for days afterward—until they heard the news that he’d been killed.

“Oh, so he has witnesses that he didn’t spend it with you,” Lady Sorrell said. “That will make it easier to attain the annulment.”

“I’m certain she’d still need to be examined,” Lady Colburne said with an apologetic look.

“I’m sure I will. That will be… uncomfortable, but I am confident there won’t be any problems,” Ellen admitted.

“It is extremely difficult to get an annulment,” Lady Ayres said.

“And there might be some social repudiation,” Lady Blakemore pointed out.

“No matter, with my husband suddenly returning from the dead, I can’t imagine my reputation will not suffer,” Ellen said quietly.

There was silence as they all ruminated on that. Sadly no one disagreed.

“Thank goodness you hadn’t already moved on,” Lady Sorrell said. “For all he knew, you could have already remarried.”

“Yes, I’ve thought of that,” Ellen admitted. “What he’s done is extremely selfish, but…”

“Typical for a man, isn’t it?” Diana said.

All the women agreed.

“Are you looking for us to help you rebuild your reputation?” Lady Gorling asked.

“Of course we will do everything we can—” Lydia began.

“I know that you will, and I can’t tell you how much that will mean to me if it should come to that. I simply don’t know what I should do,” she admitted. “Should I fight for my marriage? Should I agree to the annulment? Should I refuse to see him at all?” She lifted her hands and let them drop back into her laps. “I don’t know.”

“How do you feel about him—aside from angry?” Lady Sorrell asked.

“I think a more pointed question might be, how do you feel about Lord Pennyston?” Diana asked with a lift of her brow.

Ellen could feel her face heat.

“Lord Pennyston? Who is this?” the duchess asked.