53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Despite his brave words, Jethro’s confidence wavered as he entered the drawing room, unsure of what he would find.

“It is good to see you in one piece, Alexander,” he said, striding over to where Cassandra’s brother sat slumped in a chair with his right leg propped up on a stool in front of him.

The poor fellow looked shattered, and though they had never seen eye to eye, Jethro was filled with compassion and extended his arm toward him.

The man wriggled in his seat.

“No, don’t get up,” Jethro said, moving closer. “I can come to you.”

The captain stared at his outstretched hand. “I owe you an apology—”

“All is forgiven,” Jethro said.

Alexander gave a curt nod. “Good of you,” he mumbled as he shook his hand. Jethro was shocked at the feebleness of his grip.

“I see your journey has exhausted you. There is no need for you to change your dress, but if you’ll excuse us—”

“Perhaps we should all dine as we are, so Xander doesn’t feel out of place,” said Cassandra.

Jethro agreed, but he’d grown accustomed to changing his clothes for dinner, and it niggled him to have his routine disrupted.

He was further put out when Cassandra offered her support to Alexander rather than taking his arm, as was their custom .

Jethro had to suppress his jealous desire for his wife’s attention, reminding himself that the captain was her brother, and he deserved her consideration and her care. Alexander had served his country, which was more than he’d ever done.

It was Jethro’s own fault if he felt neglected. He had said Alexander could come, and then he’d left Cassandra to it. He’d used Mr Wade’s visit as an excuse to throw himself back into his business.

Anything rather than face his fear that Alexander would come between him and Cassandra. A fear that now seemed justified.

At the dinner table, the captain sat in silence, brooding, there in body, but not in spirit, pushing his food around his plate and draining his wineglass, as often as it was refilled.

The concern on his wife’s face pulled on his heartstrings. Jethro wished he could save her from the anguish of seeing her brother like this. He had been prepared to find him surly and uncooperative, but this listlessness was even more difficult to contend with.

Cassandra tried to engage Alexander in conversation, but when he replied with a grunt for the third time, she glanced at Jethro in despair.

To help his wife, he would try, and when she rose to withdraw from the table, though he yearned to leave with her, he resumed his seat and bid the butler pour the captain some brandy.

“How did it happen?”

Alexander lifted his eyes for a moment and then let them fall back to contemplating his drink. The brandy seemed to have loosened his tongue.

“Cannon ball. Shattered the base of the mast and sent debris flying everywhere. Taverner was dead within minutes, as were two or three others. It should have been me.”

“But you were victorious?”

Alexander heaved a long sigh. “If you can call it that. Is it truly a victory when such a large number of good men fell achieving it? This war has warped all our minds into thinking that beating Boney is all that matters. Try telling that to the mothers and wives and sweethearts who will never see their menfolk again.”

“Have you seen a surgeon?”

“Too many. The first wanted to chop my leg off, but fortunately I was conscious enough to stop him. Wonder whether I would have been better off without it, though I’ve heard some men still feel the pain, even when—”

He broke off, choking on his words, as tears rolled down his cheeks .

Jethro didn’t know how to respond. Alexander had wailed over Eugenia’s desertion, but this was different. These were sobs of brokenness. Of despair.

“I’m sorry.” It seemed so inadequate, but what more could he say?

Alexander lapsed into silence again, sipping his brandy, lost in his thoughts.

“You look weary. Shall I ring for your man?”

The captain raised blank eyes to him. “Cottman? He’s dead.”

“You must engage another.”

“How? I have no money. Nothing, until the Navy pays up.”

“Then allow me to provide you with a manservant. In the meantime, you’ll have to share mine.”

“Pshaw. What’s the point? I have no use for one. My life is over. My ship was handed to someone else before I was on the surgeon’s table. I’ve been cast off, unqualified to do anything but that which was ripped away from me. I’ve no prospects. Nothing. At least I don’t have to deal with the disgust on Eugenia’s face. How much more painful it would be if she broke off our engagement now. No woman will ever look twice at the wreck of a man I’ve become. So you see, I have no need for a valet.”

Jethro leaned toward him and gave a visible sniff. “I hate to contradict you, Alexander,” he said, turning up his nose, “but your aroma says otherwise. You most definitely require a bath.”

One side of the captain’s mouth tilted up slightly. “That, I cannot argue with.”

When Alexander had finished his brandy, Jethro summoned Wilkes to help him upstairs.

“Goodnight, Captain.”

Alexander winced, as though the appellation bothered him, but bid his brother-in-law a curt goodnight and dragged himself up the stairs with the aid of Jethro’s man and the handrail.

Cassandra looked up as Jethro joined her in the drawing room.

“Where’s Xander?”

“He’s retired for the night.”

She put down her embroidery, and moved toward the door, but Jethro laid a hand on her arm to stop her.

“He might need me,” she said, trying to loosen his hold.

“I should have said that he’s gone for a bath and bed.”

“Oh. Yes. I should be decidedly in the way,” she said, retaking her chair. “Did he talk to you? ”

Jethro wished they could speak of something else, but if she wanted to discuss her brother, he would do so. “A little. He told me how it happened.”

“Tell me. I should like to know.”

He relayed the essence of what Alexander had said. It was better coming from him, as it was not accompanied by the bleakness.

“Poor Lieutenant Taverner. It seems such a short while ago that he was in this very room.”

That was a night Jethro wished to forget.

“And Cottman gone, too. They knew each other as boys. It is a hard loss for him to bear.”

Cassandra chewed on her bottom lip and then lifted her gaze to meet his. “Do you…do you think he will recover?”

Jethro stared into her troubled eyes, longing to reassure her, but he had no such assurance to give her. “I’m no medical man. They saved his leg, so at least he can walk, though it pains him. I will get Dr Cooper to call tomorrow. He can advise us on the best treatment.”

“But what about his spirits? He appears so despondent.”

“Only time will tell. Even the most damaged men can recover something of their previous life, or start a new one, but it requires determination, and Alexander seems to have lost the motivation to try.”

“I hope he can find something to live for.”

“So do I.”

Dr Cooper called the next day to examine Alexander. Jethro ensured he was present, afraid how Cassandra might react if the doctor’s prognosis was poor.

“Well, Captain Vincent, there is good news and bad. After examining your wounds, I think there is a reasonable chance you will be able to walk independently in time, but the splinters in your leg are another matter. It’s a shame they couldn’t extract them all. I’m afraid the discomfort they cause might never go away.”

Alexander groaned. “I’m going to be in this pain forever?”

“No, no. It should lessen, but you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that it might not leave you completely. As soon as you can, get out and about, plenty of fresh air, and use your muscles, though it hurts to do so. Push through the discomfort. It will benefit you in the long run.”

“What if there is no long run?”

“Tut, tut. You must not give up. You are in a far better way than others I’ve seen.”

Dr Cooper turned to Cassandra. “Your brother will need to take laudanum until the pain is bearable, but I have to warn you of its addictive tendencies. Be careful how you administer it, or he will crave the drug long after he needs it.”

“Nothing more for you to do here, sir,” he said to Jethro. “You can leave your capable wife to assist me to re-dress the wounds.”

“Yes, go,” said Cassandra, shooing him out of the room. “A sickroom is a woman’s province, and I’m sure you have more important things to do than getting in Dr Cooper’s way.”

Jethro didn’t think there was anything more important than supporting his wife, but the decision had been taken out of his hands.

He was not wanted here, and he had no option but to leave and return to the warehouse, where he discovered Crowley was doing very well without him.

For the next two weeks, Alexander kept to his room, where his sister nursed him, and supervised the doctor’s visits. Jethro encountered him each day at dinnertime, when he was silent and sullen, only talking when pressed.

He saw little more of his wife.

Desperate for some sign that her incarceration in the sickroom would not last forever, he cornered the doctor after one of his calls, as Cassandra was showing him out.

“How is our invalid today, Dr Cooper?”

“Improving all the time, Mr Hunt. I am cautiously optimistic he will regain full use of his leg, but that won’t happen if he remains in his room all day. Now that the superficial wounds are healed, he needs to get outside and exercise.”

“He has no inclination, Dr Cooper,” said Cassandra. “It is as if his appetite for life has withered. What can we do to help lessen the dark mood that envelopes his spirit? ”

The doctor shook his head and gave her a pitying look. “Men who’ve fought in the war, on land or sea, are never the same, Mrs Hunt. The only advice I can offer is to encourage him not to shut himself away. If you’re worried about his spiritual welfare, talk to a clergyman.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll consult Mr Barnes.”

Jethro’s stomach churned as he observed her eagerness to see the curate. The sharp bite of jealousy leaped up and attacked him again, though he squashed the feelings as fast as they had come.

Why did he feel so bitter toward the man? There was nothing improper about his wife talking to Mr Barnes about her brother. It was not the curate’s fault that Cassandra wanted his advice rather than her husband’s, and Jethro acknowledged, in all fairness, that he was clueless how to help.

He had no more idea how to lift Alexander’s spirits than he did how to win his wife’s heart.

Unless… A boat ride. Maybe that would aid his brother-in-law’s recovery—to be on the water again. They could hire a pleasure boat to take them around Portland. The three of them.

Jethro tried to convince himself that his motives were altruistic, but he knew he was only pretending.

A boat trip with Cassandra might not improve her brother’s mood, but it would certainly lift his spirits to spend an afternoon with his wife.