Robert closed his eyes, his mind reeling. A nephew named after him? Suzanne Canfield dead? And Eleanor. What had happened to Eleanor?
“I shouldn’t be in here,” she said suddenly. She moved quietly to the door, opening it slightly and peering into the hallway for some sign of Mrs. Kinnard.
“I think you should rest,” she said over her shoulder. “The night you arrived, you were in no condition to either get or give explanations. You’re better now, and you’re going to need all the strength you can muster if you intend to try to make Maria understand why you did what you did. I don’t think it will be easy. I know how I would feel if I were in her place and Max had suddenly come back from the dead. Truthfully, I don’t envy you the attempt.”
Robert didn’t say anything. She was quite straightforward, this new sister-in-law of his.
“I have a favor...to ask,” he said, despite the inappropriateness of doing so. “Two favors.”
“All right. Ask.”
“Would you tell the sergeant major that I’d like to talk to an army chaplain. Tell him I want to talk to one who has seen the elephant. Someone who’s fought in battle and survived. Will you do that?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
“And I would consider it a kindness if you would find out whatever you can about Miss Eleanor Hansen—where she is.”
He expected her to ask him for explanations, but she didn’t. She nodded, and after one final cautious look into the hallway, she slipped away.
Chapter Four
What is wrong with me? Kate thought as she made her way to the kitchen. Hiding from a woman she had every right to challenge in her own brother’s house. It wasn’t like her to hide. Keep silent, yes. Endure, yes. But not this.
She gave an exasperated sigh. She knew perfectly well that it wasn’t the hiding alone that had her so disconcerted. It was that she had willingly engaged in a prolonged conversation with a strange man—albeit a relative by marriage—in his—her—bedchamber.
She wasn’t really certain why she’d tarried so long with Robert Markham—except that he wasn’t like any man she’d ever met. He was literally her enemy, of course, an active participant in the war responsible for Grey’s death and for Max’s nearly fatal imprisonment, and yet there was something...else about him, something she couldn’t begin to define. Perhaps it was the contrast between his rough physical appearance and his quiet demeanor. Or seemingly quiet demeanor. Even that was an intriguing puzzle to her. His eyes weren’t quiet at all. They were so intense and intimidating—a look she thought he might have perfected in the prizefighting ring.
And yet he’d seemed perfectly willing to have her take refuge from Mrs. Kinnard at his inconvenience. She had immediately sensed that he would have given her whatever help she had required, if he could, whether he knew her or not. She decided that perhaps it was the knight-in-shining-armor quality Southern men were purported to have, but she had no experience in that regard and therefore couldn’t possibly know with any certainty. All she knew of the group as a whole was what Maxwell and Grey had both told her—that they were worthy enemies and excellent horsemen, things soldiers—cavalrymen—apparently found time to note and admire despite their determination to kill one another.
“It is Tuesday,” Mrs. Kinnard suddenly announced behind her, once again making Kate jump. And the woman made it sound as if Tuesday was a very bad thing to be.
Kate waited as patiently as she could to be enlightened, but so did Mrs. Kinnard. And the impasse it created continued to the point where poor timid Mrs. Justice and the two orderlies who would have walked past them in the downstairs hallway immediately changed their minds and went back in the direction they had just come.
“How may I help you, Mrs. Kinnard?” Kate said finally, capitulating once again for Max’s sake. But it wasn’t just her need to keep the peace that made her try to be agreeable. She couldn’t help but think of Mrs. Russell’s lost son, and she intended, by keeping Mrs. Kinnard pacified, to be able to write her letter to Harrison at some point without interruption, a very long letter, whether John’s parents would interpret it as intruding into his life or not.
John’s parents.
She never thought of the Howes as Harrison’s parents.
There was a good chance that the trains would be running again after the heavy snow. If so, she wanted to make sure her letter would go out today. Her son was still in this world, and even if she couldn’t be with him, couldn’t see him, she could still have written contact and through his return letters know how he fared.
“I have had no communication from your brother,” Mrs. Kinnard said, interrupting Kate’s thoughts. “None. I should have heard from him by now.”
“I’m afraid I couldn’t say why you have not, Mrs. Kinnard. Perhaps the heavy snow has brought the telegraph lines down—or some other...incident regarding the telegraph has occurred,” Kate added with enough significance to make her point. Diehard Rebels were still known to disrupt the telegraph messages in any way they could, and Kate had no intention of taking the blame for that or the weather. “Whatever the reason, he won’t return until his military duties are satisfied.”
“Well, I need to hear from him,” Mrs. Kinnard said, clearly not placated by mere logic.
“And I’m sure you will. When he is able.”
“And if Robert Markham dies without seeing Maria? What then?”
“He’s awake now,” Kate said. “Perhaps he won’t die.”
“Awake? Why was I not told!”
“I’ve just told you, Mrs. Kinnard. And I’ve carried out his request—”
“What request?” Mrs. Kinnard asked, immediately seizing on the remark as if something underhanded was afoot. And her tone suggested that she already knew she wasn’t going to be happy with Kate’s answer.
“He’s asked to see the army chaplain—I’ve just advised Sergeant Major Perkins,” Kate said—or tried to.
“What utter nonsense! Robert Markham has his own pastor! If it’s spiritual comfort he needs, I can send for Mr. Lewis right now!”
Mrs. Kinnard made an abrupt about-face and headed toward the main staircase—apparently because she suddenly realized she could go directly to Robert Markham’s room and have this whole matter straightened out in no time.
Kate watched her go, feeling more than a little guilty that she’d unleashed the woman upon him without warning. Unlike Kate, he couldn’t hide.
But the sergeant major intercepted Mrs. Kinnard at the bottom step and stood firmly between her and her obvious desire to ascend.
“I will see him, Mr. Perkins,” Kate heard Mrs. Kinnard say.
“Yes, ma’am, you will. But not now. He’s asked to talk to the chaplain and with us not knowing how much strength he’s got at the moment, he’s not going to use it up on anything but that.”
“She says he has asked for your chaplain,” Mrs. Kinnard said, swinging her arm around to include Kate.
“Yes, ma’am. He has.”
“Well, I don’t believe it! Clearly, he’s not himself.”
“Just the same, he’s not going to be bothered until after we get him the kind of chaplain he says he wants—”
“And what kind is that, pray tell?”
“He wants one who’s seen the elephant. He’s the colonel’s brother-in-law so that’s what he’s going to get. In the meantime nobody is going to be seeing him but the hospital orderlies assigned