In the Shadow of the Lamp (25 page)

Emma and Dr. Maclean just stared at both of us. Emma as if we were stark raving mad, Dr. Maclean with a soft, sorrowing look.

“We have a ways to go yet, and I’m much better,” I said, beginning to feel foolish for causing such a to-do.

“Wait!” Mother Seacole said. “I have something for you that might help if you get that way again.” She went to a locked cupboard, fished a key out of a hidden pocket in her dress, and opened it. She brought me a sachet of something on a string and placed it round my neck. “It’s mandrake root. I won’t go into all the legends, but I find a good sniff gets me out of my unpleasant moods and back to the present in a jiffy.”

I’m not the sort who lays myself open to people easily, but something about Mother Seacole made me throw my arms around her neck and give her a squeeze, just like she was my own mother back in the East End. She squeezed me too and patted me on the back. “If you can get away, come and see me whenever you like. I could use some help, especially when the shells have been flying from the Redan.”

We left. She stood in her doorway, her large person blocking out almost all the light from the lamp inside. I patted the sachet she gave me. Miss Nightingale definitely wouldn’t approve. But there was no more whispering now.

C
hapter 25

Our stop cost us about half an hour on a night where we could hardly afford to lose a minute. As we continued to climb to the British offensive positions, the ground became rougher and rougher. Our horse stumbled more than once in holes that were hard to see in the pale moonlight.

“We’ve pushed them back a little, but sometimes the shells still reach this far,” Dr. Maclean said, pointing to a deep dent he steered his horse around. “It’s worse up ahead. We’ll go to the hospital tent first, leave the animals, then the rest will have to be on foot.”

We continued on in silence for a while. Ahead I could hear the low murmur of people resting—not sleeping, but I guessed taking advantage of a few hours when they didn’t have to be on their guard.

The hospital tent wasn’t much—just a bigger version of the tents down below. And they didn’t have many supplies either, not like in Mother Seacole’s dispensary. About half a dozen wounded men lay on the ground, groaning.

“Did you bring more bandages? Any chloroform?” A doctor I didn’t know came forward from the darkness at the back of the tent. He was much older than Dr. Maclean. He glanced at us. “I thought Miss Nightingale didn’t want her nurses at the front lines.”

“She doesn’t. These two came up out of their own desire to be of some help. They’d like to see the chaplain. Is he about?”

The two of them unloaded the donkey with hardly a sound and spoke in hushed, hurried sentences. Even their motions were quick and efficient. The other doctor, named Dr. Hastings, said the chaplain was with the Eighty-eighth, where four men had died that day of dysentery.

“They’re over by the Redan,” Dr. Maclean said, using the same clipped, quiet tone with us he had used with the doctor. “We’ll have to be quick.” He saluted Dr. Hastings and motioned us to follow him.

The closer we came to the trenches, the harder it was for me to breathe. It wasn’t just the smell—thousands of men who hadn’t washed for days, and the stink of rot and blood—it was something else, something even more powerful than the sights and sounds that almost overcame me farther down the hill. I felt like something was crushing my heart, like I was the earth and the weight of all these soldiers was on top of me. I tried not to let on that anything was bothering me. I caused enough trouble earlier, and now we were so close. Emma looked worried but excited. I just concentrated on making my heart slow down and putting one foot in front of the other so I could keep up with Dr. Maclean.

We walked for a good half hour before we reached the British guns. They were like big ugly pots angled upward behind built-up earth with brick reinforcing it. I could see that the enemy would only know their locations by the plumes of smoke that came out when they were fired. But at night, the guns remained silent. Gunners leaned against the sides of the gun carriage, smoking pipes or sleeping. They’d stacked the cannonballs up in a grid, ready to be fed into the barrels of the big guns. I wondered what was in them—canister? The enemy soldiers would be just as badly wounded as ours.

A short way down from the guns a group of soldiers sat clustered around the chaplain. Their faces were all fixed on his, like he held the answer to some huge question. It seemed small and stupid to go and interrupt him for our concerns. We didn’t belong here. Not in our dresses and gloves, thinking about life. Up here, the business was survival or death. I think even Emma realized that. I saw her clutching her stomach, like she wanted to protect what was inside her from feeling this place.

The chaplain saw us, made the sign of the cross to his audience, stood, and came over. “Dr. Maclean.” He put out his hand and they shook. “Do you need me in the hospital tent?”

“No, thankfully. I wondered if you knew where we could find a soldier in the Nineteenth, named …” He turned to Emma.

“Thomas. Thomas Mitchell, from London.” She spoke so softly I hardly recognized her voice. Not like the Emma I knew. I wondered if she was sorry we’d come.

“What is it you want him for, young lady?” the chaplain asked.

“I … I need to talk to him.” She looked down at her feet.

“Is this something that’s going to upset him? Now is not the time to go telling men bad news. Bad news can get them killed when the sun comes up.”

Emma looked to me for help. I spoke up. “It’s not bad news. It’s the best kind of news. Only Emma needs his help with something.” I drew the chaplain away from Emma, who looked more and more like she would cry.

“Oh, I see,” he said. “That’s why you’ve looked for me first. Well …” He folded his arms across his chest. “My duty is to the men here, keeping them safe. If it seems Thomas Mitchell isn’t ready to do what your friend wants him to do, I won’t force him. Is she prepared for that?”

I knew she wasn’t. But we’d come this far and we had to find Thomas. “I’m sure of her.” It didn’t mean anything really, but the chaplain took it as a yes.

“Follow me.”

We started off. Dr. Maclean hung back. I looked over my shoulder at him. I wanted to beg him to come along with us, but I didn’t know why. He wouldn’t be any help with Thomas and Emma.

“We have to keep behind the hills or crouch low. Even at night, the Russians will sometimes take a shot.”

Emma gripped my arm. “It’s all right. Just do as the chaplain says.” I let her cling to me even though it made it harder to move as quickly as we ought. But that wasn’t all. As we approached the men in the trenches, the weight pressed harder and harder on my heart, so it felt like to burst. But I had to go on. I put the mandrake sachet to my nose. It gave off a moldy, earthy smell, and made me feel calmer. I blessed Mother Seacole.

Soon there were no more hillocks or earthworks to hide behind, and ahead I could see the dark, wide ditches that must be trenches. “Get down, flat, and wait for me here,” the chaplain said. I pulled Emma down beside me. Rocks and roots pressed into us, and the ground was icy cold but at least not snow covered. The chaplain crouched as low as he could and ran like an animal on all fours across the flat area to the trenches. Soon he disappeared over the lip of one. Would he come back or just leave us here? The only choice we had was to wait.

It seemed like hours. Emma shivered, I hoped only from the cold. But at last a shape crawled over the top of a trench, a ways down from where the chaplain went in, and moved toward us, low to the ground.

“It’s Thomas!” Emma whispered to me, pointing. I saw the chaplain bringing someone back with him.
Thank God
, I thought, and promised I’d really pray when we went to church on Sunday. “Look, Moll, someone else is coming.” Emma dug her fingers into my arm as she said it.

I saw him too. Yet another soldier had come out and the two soldiers and the chaplain were doing that same low scuttle toward us. It was only a minute before they were there, and I knew right away who the second soldier was. Will.

“Quickly. Over here.” The chaplain led us behind the nearest earthworks where we could stand up and face each other.

“Em!” Thomas whispered, and wrapped his arms around her. “Why’d you come up here? It’s so dangerous!”

“Well … You see …” I’d never seen Emma short of a quick answer before.

“Let’s all move away, shall we?” said the chaplain. Once we were a polite distance off and I saw that Emma had started talking to Thomas, the chaplain said, “So, you two know each other too?”

Until then I avoided meeting Will’s eyes. I could see he was changed. Very thin, and his happy, trusting eyes were less easy to read. Or perhaps it was just the moonlight. “You look well, Moll.” He reached out his hand and touched my cheek. Why hadn’t I thought about the possibility I’d see him if I came up here?

“So do you,” I lied. “Are you eating?”

The chaplain walked away as though he had business over by another earthworks.

“It ain’t half hard up here. I ’aven’t slept for three days.” He’d let himself slip back into the old East End accent, not keeping up the polished ways he learned in Cadogan Square, I noticed.

“I’m so sorry. I wish I could help.”

“You could! You really could, Molly.” He moved closer to me. I didn’t want to shrink away. Not just because it would have hurt him, but because I really didn’t want to. I wanted to comfort Will, my only friend besides Emma, who’d had such a hard time since I saw him last. And he was my only link with home too. He took hold of my shoulders. “You remember what I asked you, before I left?”

I couldn’t help but remember, even though I tried not to think about it most of the time. I just didn’t know if I felt like that about Will. And when Dr. Maclean was close, something else happened to me, like it never did even this close to Will. Still, I let him get nearer, till there was almost no distance between us. He kissed my cheek, then pressed his against mine and spoke in my ear. “The chaplain’s here. Marry me, Moll. To give me something to live for. I know we’re meant for each other.”

He slipped his arms around my waist. I felt the roughness of his uniform, the buckles and buttons, pressing up against me. It was safe in his arms. He’d helped me, he cared for me. He would always take care of me, I knew, be kind and never hurt me. What else was there for me? Once Miss Nightingale found out what Emma and I had done up there, we’d be out for sure. I turned my face to his and kissed him lightly on the lips.

The chaplain cleared his throat. I jumped away.

Will stood next to me and put a hand on my waist like he was claiming me for his own. “Chaplain, I wonder if I could trouble you for a few minutes of your services.” He made his voice all proper again.

“You too? I’d better see what’s going on over the other side.”

In the confusion of everything, I’d almost forgot about Emma. I looked for her now. She and Thomas stood two feet apart from each other, both looking down at the ground. This wasn’t good. What would she do? I clenched my hands together while I watched the chaplain talking to them. Then all three came over to us.

“Seems like we have two weddings to celebrate tonight,” he said, not looking pleased. “We can do them at the same time, if you’ll just stand here. But I’ll need a witness.”

He turned, and out of the shadows walked Dr. Maclean. My heart froze.

C
hapter 26

He wouldn’t look at me. I suddenly felt how very cold it was up there. My feet were numb, my fingers were numb, my mind was numb. What was I doing?

The chaplain started right in before I could say a word.

“Do you, Thomas, take Emma to be your lawful wedded wife?” He stopped. Wasn’t there more? It would all be over too fast. I needed time to think!

Thomas sighed, then looked long at Emma. “I guess … yes, I do.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re very certain, Thomas.”

Emma’s eyes were round and scared. I was just glad for a little delay, so I could think. I glanced over at Dr. Maclean, and was startled to see him staring—no, glaring—straight at me. Was he angry? Did he expect something from me? But I meant him to. I knew that. And now I wanted him to be standing where Will was. But I didn’t want to hurt Will. How I wished I could close my eyes and be back in the hut in Balaclava, where none of this was real.

“Thomas, it’ll be all right,” Emma’s voice quaked. “You’ll see. We’ll do well together.”

She reached her hand out to him. He took it in both of his, then clutched it to his heart. “I know. I know.” He was crying. Tears streamed through the dirt caked on his face, which I could see much better now. The sky was getting light in the east. “Only, I didn’t expect …” He sniffed hard. “Carry on, vicar,” he said, attempting a smile. The relief on Emma’s face made me want to cry too.

The chaplain finished his very short service, and Emma and Thomas held each other close. I hoped they would be all right. It was such an odd way to come to this, and yet it was no stranger than many, I supposed. Will took hold of my hand. I had to fight the urge to pull it away from him. What could I do? It would crush him to tell him now, here, that I didn’t want to marry him, or at least that I wasn’t certain about anything.