A Nurse for James Read online

  This Florrie woman was obviously a good housekeeper. At least he was a gentleman, or at one stage he had been. The place as far as she could see was well cared for, but tired and dull, not to mention depressing.

  A coffee pot stood to one side of the hot plates on the large cook stove. She leaned into the wood box and picked up a log and replenished the fire.

  “You will leave here after we have the coffee.”

  “No, I’m not leaving until I speak with your housekeeper.”

  “I told you. I don’t want you here.”

  “And I told you, I’m staying until I speak with your housekeeper.” The man was insufferable. She couldn’t deny he was ill, that was as plain as the nose on her face. “Do you take cream in your coffee?” she asked.

  “No thanks, no sugar, either.”

  “Perhaps you should.” She forced a smile.

  “Why?”

  “It might sweeten your disposition.”

  Momentarily his eyes blazed, before icing up. “I don’t have a sour disposition.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Don’t I have the right? Look at me? I’ve got a permanent limp, a shoulder that doesn’t work properly, and my nerves are shot to pieces. The army was my career and it’s all gone. I don’t know of any crippled army captains. All because of that damn war.”

  Chapter Five

  Ashley didn’t know why, but something snapped in her on hearing this obviously wealthy man whine.

  “Stop wallowing in self-pity.” The words fell out of her mouth and she couldn’t stop them. “You think you’re the only one to suffer in the war?” she screamed at him. “I lost my brother. He was a skilled surgeon and was blown to pieces. I don’t even have a grave to visit. I saw men lying in the hospital tents near the battlefields in agony because there was no morphine left. I watched surgeons sawing off young men’s limbs.”

  She collapsed on to a chair, put her hands over her face and wept.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t have to cry.”

  She sniffed back the tears. “Cry, Captain Whybrow? I want to scream until I’m hoarse. Throw myself down on the ground and beat at it until I collapse with exhaustion.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Because I can’t. I don’t have the luxury of doing such a thing. I have a living to earn, so I have to bury my grief and keep going.”

  “Are you going to get my coffee?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Get it yourself, you’re not helpless.”

  He laughed. “I am when it comes to domestic chores, well, most things these days.”

  “Yes, I know, you told me. You’re a cripple. A rich cripple by the looks of it, so don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”

  “What kind of name is Ashley for a woman?”

  She shrugged. “It’s the name my parents gave me.”

  “We were told the nurse was a man?”

  “Well, you can see that I’m not.”

  His hand trembled as he poured out two cups of coffee.

  “Oh, I can see that, Nurse Ashley.”

  James let his eyes wander over her. He wasn’t so dead inside that he couldn’t notice an attractive young woman. Ashley Myers certainly was pretty with coppery brown curls, large fawn-like blue eyes. He itched to touch her creamy face. Compassion lurking in her eyes, combined with sadness, gave her an almost ethereal beauty.

  What was wrong with him? He didn’t want to have anything to do with women after Kathleen had rejected him in such a callous fashion. Women were dangerous, treacherous creatures, he forgot that at his peril. Purely academic anyway, no woman would want a wreck of a man like him.

  Wait until I get hold of Doc Branson. Sending him a nurse he didn’t want, and of all things, a female nurse. The old fool was senile, and Martin wondered why he didn’t want the silly old coot to look after him.

  No doctor could heal what ailed him. The guilt of surviving the war when his men perished, either on the battlefield or in some hell-hole confederate prison.

  He’d be having a few words with Florrie and Martin as well. They wouldn’t have known Ashley Myers was a woman, but they knew he didn’t want a nurse of any gender, yet they helped Doc organize it.

  What pretty hands she had. He wouldn’t mind having them caress his fevered brow. He must be going crazy thinking like this. How old was she? Did she have a beau?

  Why should he care what she had or didn’t have? She would be leaving as soon as she finished her coffee. He would even offer to drive her back to the station, and he hadn’t left the house in months, that’s how anxious he was to get rid of her.

  Ashley Myers was dangerous. She made him yearn for things he couldn’t have. A wife and a family. No woman could be expected to put up with him the way he was. It grieved him to think he would be the last of the Whybrow line now Peter was dead. An officer friend had told him his brother had been killed at Gettysburg and buried somewhere nearby. After the war, Martin had instigated a search, but the grave was never found.

  No wife could put up with his mood swings and constant nightmares or him having to sleep with the lamp left on as he couldn’t stand the darkness. That stinking hole George had rolled him into had collapsed on him a couple of times and he had been almost buried alive. How he had been able to dig himself out and get away from there after two days, not to mention making it back to the union lines, he had no idea.

  Rain pelting against the window interrupted his brooding. He couldn’t go out in that or expect her to, either. He wasn’t that devoid of humanity.

  “What did you say?” He shook his head to clear it of the unsettling memories.

  “I said, if you want me to leave, I’d better do it now.” She sounded tired and dispirited. “I’m sorry I screamed at you. I didn’t have the right.”

  “You can’t go right now. Do you hear the rain?”

  “Yes, I’d have to be deaf not to when it’s pelting so hard against the window.”

  “It will stop soon. At this time of year, we get weather like this here, dry one minute, pouring with rain the next.”

  A sudden noise came from the back porch and a man said. “Wretched rain.”

  “Martin and Florrie are back,” the captain said.

  Ashley watched as a small, birdlike middle-age woman scurried into the room followed by an older bear of a man who rushed toward the stove, hands out to the warmth.

  “It’s not fit for man nor beast out there,” Martin said.

  “Martin, Florrie, meet Ashley Myers, the nurse.”

  Ashley almost laughed at the shocked expression on their faces.

  “But, but….” Martin blustered.

  “We were expecting a man.” Florrie finished off for him.

  “Well, she’s certainly not a man.” James grimaced. “I can see that even in my condition.”

  “Well, that’s an improvement,” Florrie said. “You keep saying you’re dead inside.”

  “I am.”

  “Ashley, may I call you that?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I’m Florrie and he’s my husband Martin.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you.” Ashley smiled. “Captain Whybrow offered to drive me back to the station.” Now she grimaced.

  “He did? He must be desperate to get rid of you.” Martin grinned. “He hasn’t left the house in months.”

  “You knew I didn’t want a nurse, yet you still let Doc Branson make the arrangements.”

  “If you don’t do something, you’ll end up dead.” Florrie reached for the coffee pot.

  This couple had obviously been here for years otherwise they never would have got away with arguing with their boss.

  “Now you’re back, you can take Nurse Ashley to the station.”

  What would it take to make James Whybrow smile Ashley wondered? He was certainly a fine-looking man even when he was scowling.

  “It’s too wet,” Martin retorted.

  “She can’t stay here,” James growled.

  “There isn’t another train until tomorrow,” Florrie said. “What do you want her to do? Sleep on the platform, or share that one little room with Horace?”

  His mouth tightened. “All right, I guess she’ll have to stay – for tonight only.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I never stay where I’m not wanted. I’ll walk back to the station and stay with what was the man’s name?”

  “Horace.” Florrie’s eyes gleamed.

  “That drunken skunk?”

  “Well, James, you would know all about drunks, being one yourself,” Florrie retorted.

  “I….I am not,” he spluttered indignantly.

  “Well, you’ve always got a whiskey bottle in your hand,” she went on. “And don’t deny it.”

  “I need it so I can sleep.”

  “Alcohol won’t help you sleep,” Ashley said. “What happens when it wears off?”

  “The nightmares return.”

  “If you stopped wallowing in self-pity, they would probably improve.”

  “And what would you know about it? I’m going to have a lie down, my head hurts.” He stalked off.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness such a display,” Martin said. “James had a hard time during the war.”

  “I know, he told me, but he’s not the only one. I lost my only brother.” Tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t understand why today of all days, she felt weepy and sad. Yes, she could. “I’m sorry. It’s his birthday today.”

  “Whose birthday?” Florrie said, with a frown creasing her forehead.

  “Richard, my brother. He would have been thirty years old today if he hadn’t been killed.”

  “I’m sorry, apart from being
badly wounded himself, James’ brother Peter was killed at Gettysburg.” Martin shook his head sadly.

  “No more war talk,” Florrie said. “I’m going to make fresh coffee and we’ll have a piece of apple pie with it. I’m going to enjoy having you here, Ashley. You stir James up and that’s good.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes, he’s in a lot of pain.” She bustled around preparing fresh coffee and brought force half an apple pie from the dresser, “And he can’t forget what happened. This used to be a happy home, now it’s somber and gloomy.”

  “You’ve worked here for a long time?” Ashley asked, accepting a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Yes, since before James was born. Help yourself to cream and sugar. Martin are you having one?”

  “No thanks, I’ve got a couple of chores to do outside, then I’ll pick up your luggage, Ashley.”

  “Well, see you rug up warmly, I don’t want you catching a chill.”

  “I’ll be careful, anyway we’ve got a nurse in the house now.” He chuckled.

  The kitchen door slammed behind him.

  “I’m not going to be here for long if Captain Whybrow has his way. And I guess it is his house.”

  “Half of it belongs to Martin and me.”

  “It does?” That explained a lot of things.

  Florrie sat down at the table with her. “The house belonged to James’ brother, Peter. He left half the house to us, the other half plus his share in the business went to James.”

  Florrie was a friendly, talkative woman and Ashley didn’t know why she was interested in James’ life. After tomorrow, it was unlikely she’d be here. Maybe that was why the other woman was being so open.

  It was through this she learned the place had been his childhood home, and his father had disinherited him when he went to West Point and not into the family business as his brother had done.

  “That’s sad.”

  “Yes, it is. Old Leonard Whybrow was a hard Yorkshire man.”

  That explained why the house looked like it had come from the Yorkshire moors.

  “He started out working in the coal mines and eventually ended up owning one.”

  “A coal mine?”

  “Yes, just out of Frostburg.”

  Ashley suddenly thought of her own father with his hacking cough and diseased lungs and shivered.

  “The miners who worked for the Whybrow’s were treated well, paid good wages and their families provided with free housing and medical care. Any man who got hurt or couldn’t work received a pension for life. Not many mine owners do that.”

  “I know. Some of the patients we saw in the hospital for the poor and destitute had black lung and when they couldn’t work, they were cast aside. It was shocking.”

  “Well, it’s not the case here, I’d go so far as to say Leonard treated….”

  “Leonard?”

  “He was my cousin. He treated his workers with more kindness than he did his own sons if you want my opinion.”

  That explained a lot of things, Ashley thought.

  “He was a hard man, yet a fair one.”

  “Mine owners have never rated highly with me,” Ashley said.

  “I shouldn’t be gossiping like this.” Florrie must have suddenly realized she was giving out too much family information. “Finish your pie and I’ll take you up to your room.”

  “The captain doesn’t want me here.”

  “All the more reason for you to stay. He needs help, and unfortunately, we can’t give it to him. He’s been carrying on like this for nearly four years and he’ll end up killing himself.”

  “Maybe that’s what he wants.”

  “Probably is.”

  Florrie’s statement shocked her, although it was a reasonable assumption given what she had seen of James Whybrow. “I suppose most of his problems never would have happened except for the war.”

  “The young lady he was betrothed to added to his woes. She was a beautiful looking girl, but selfish and shallow. After he was wounded, she told him she couldn’t marry a cripple and within a couple of months she married a wealthy older man. It broke his heart, combine that with his brother being killed. Well…. It’s a recipe for disaster.”

  “She sounds like a horrible woman.” Ashley didn’t know why, but she would like to slap this selfish beauty – hard.

  Chapter Six

  The wooden staircase leading upstairs was wide with fancy balustrades.

  “There are seven bedrooms upstairs. We’ve turned one into a private sitting room and James has done the same thing. He’s at one end of the hallway, we’re at the other. There are three bedrooms in between us. You’re welcome to whichever one you like, maybe the middle one. It gets more light than the others.”

  “Thank you, I’ll have it then.”

  “I’ll have to make the bed up for you.”

  “I can do that, Florrie. I’m sure you have plenty of other chores needing to be done.”

  “Well, yes I do. I want to get supper on. I was thinking roast chicken would be nice. I’ll cut it up so it will cook quicker.”

  The room Florrie led her to was spacious and contained a dresser, closet and matching bedstead. Rugs covered the polished wooden floorboards. There was a large fireplace with carved mantel above it. A copper fire guard decorated with peacocks matched the lid on the wood box. It was slightly shabby yet still showed signs of previous grandeur.

  “Blankets, quilt and linen are all in the large closet we passed on the way up, so help yourself to whatever you need. I usually serve supper around six. There is a nice selection of books downstairs if you like reading.”

  “Thank you. I don’t want to get too comfortable here in case Captain Whybrow sends me away.”

  “Call him James, we don’t stand on formality here now. You’ll be good for him. A young man like him needs female company.”

  Ashley laughed. “I’m here to work not socialize.”

  “Of course, you are, dear.”

  Florrie left her, and Ashley went to the well-stocked linen closet and took out what she needed. Would James let her stay? Did she even want to stay?

  After making up the bed she wandered over to the large window and glanced out. The house was set on three or four acres of land with a vegetable garden, small orchard and a few outbuildings. It was neatly fenced with a rock wall. Very English looking really. In the distant pastures, cattle and horses grazed. Did they belong to James as well?

  This could be a nice place to live and bring up a family. What a shame it wouldn’t happen now. Unless James found himself a wife. Impossible when he was so bitter toward women and hell-bent on his own destruction. How could a man blame himself for surviving while his comrades perished?

  After tidying her hair and washing her face and hands in cold water she made her way back downstairs, not knowing where else to go. What a gloomy, silent house this was. It was as if all the life had been sucked out of it.

  Florrie was sitting at the kitchen table chopping up vegetables.

  “Could I help?”

  “No thanks, I’m just about finished.”

  “Do you dress for the evening meal?”

  “No, not anymore. We usually eat in the kitchen as well, cuts down on work for me. James doesn’t care one way or the other.”

  “It won’t worry me, if I stay here that is.”

  “Oh, you’ll be staying here, that’s if you want to,” Florrie said. “It will be good to have someone young and bright around the place again.”

  “If I do stay, I’m quite happy to help with the chores.”

  “Thank you, my dear, I might take you up on the offer.”

  “What’s wrong with Capt….James’ arm? I notice it seems a little on the stiff side.”

  “He’s got shrapnel pieces in it. Doc Branson thinks there could still be a few tiny fragments left. He should have it checked from time to time. I keep telling him….”

  “What do you keep telling me?” The man in question limped into the room. Ashley had her back to the door, but Florrie’s mouth dropped open in shock.

  Ashley swung around. James had shaved and combed his unruly hair. It was slicked back from his forehead and dampened down, yet somehow still managed to wave. She caught her breath. What a fine-looking man he was.

  “Well, that’s an improvement I must say,” Florrie said.

  “I’ve just had a shave.”