Page 29 of A Zephyr Rising
She’d been busy asking James what she needed to do to prepare for nursing training.Her mind had buzzed with ideas.Something about the whole idea—sitting at the bedside of injured soldiers, holding their hands, soothing their worries—sounded so marvelously useful that she’d become distracted.
“Do I look completely disheveled?”She hastened to a mirror.
Henry grabbed her by the elbow and steered her toward the door.“You’ll look more disheveled when you’re flustered because we missed our appointment.”He led her outside.
“Easy now.My ankle is still hurting.Is Stephen going to meet us there?”Madeline’s chauffeur waited just beyond the steps beside the car.Ginger accepted his help into her seat.The interior of the motorcar smelt of warm, polished leather.Henry sat beside her.
“Stephen won’t be there.”Henry paused as the door shut behind them and lowered his voice.“I would exercise caution with how loudly we discuss the matter in front of others.”He gave a nod toward the chauffeur as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“I’m feeling like a prisoner in my own country, just for expressing an unpopular opinion,” Ginger muttered.
“Ironic, when your chief complaint is about men who have actually been imprisoned.”Henry chuckled and nudged her side.“Father worries you’re growing alarmingly political, little sister.”
Her father would be worried about such a notion.She gave him a wry smile.“We wouldn’t like that, would we?”
“All I’ll say is you ought to be careful.Our lot is not the same as Dr.Clark’s, for example, regardless of his father’s knighthood and his mother’s wealth.”
Her jaw dropped.She didn’t know whether to be furious or find him endearing.“You looked him up?”Now it was Ginger’s turn to laugh.Of course, Henry had.She hadn’t given too much thought to her aunt’s claims the day before, but Henry would have.He’d always been protective of her.
His findings about James were intriguing, though.The good doctor apparently had more to recommend him than she’d first imagined.He could easily make a match with any girl from a proper family.No father could object to that background—including hers.
“Given your interest in him, I felt obliged to.”Henry didn’t look the least apologetic.
She shifted in her seat, adjusting her gloves so that they dug into the spaces between her fingers less.“Well, as much as I appreciate the research you’ve done into his background, there’s nothing to be concerned about.And I know my place—or at least the one defined for me.But I won’t sit about during this war and do nothing to help.The life I’ve lived has been comfortable, but it’s also been a handicap, Henry.I don’t know how to do anything.”
Henry’s green eyes were thoughtful, as though he was seriously considering her statement.“But will being a nurse truly make you happy?The labor is something you’re wholly unaccustomed to.”
“I think so, yes.”At least he didn’t seem to rule out the idea with the same lack of consideration he’d displayed the day before.
“I’m not certain Father will agree.”Henry leaned forward, his face relaxing in the breeze coming from the window.“This is perfect hunting weather, by the way.It’s a pity I missed what will likely be the last shoot of the year.”
Ginger reached over and touched his arm.“Tell me it doesn’t make you feel more worthwhile to be helping the Martins than out there on a silly shoot.”A loud motorcar roared by, filling the air with fumes.She focused on the ugly bruise on her brother’s face.“I’m proud of you.You were quite heroic.”
Henry gave her a light-tipped smile.“Heroic is a generous word, but thank you.”His gaze drifted out the window once again.“I only hope someday to be worthy of the favorable opinion you have of me, Ginny.I’m not as good as you.The world appears uglier to my more cynical mind, I suppose, and I know the part I must play in it.”
Something about his words seemed ominous.“Don’t be ridiculous.You’re a good person.Better than I am.I always seem to be the one getting into trouble.”
The somber tension that had crept into their conversation eased as Henry snorted.“Well, I suppose that’s true.I only wish I could take credit for all those tricks you played on our governesses.”
Despite diverting from the more serious conversation to reminisce about their childhood, the conversation they indulged in for the rest of the drive was soothing to the heaviness on Ginger’s heart.By the time they reached David Peterson’s office, Ginger felt more herself than she’d felt for days.Henry had always had a knack for that.
David ushered them into his office, his brown shoes squeaking as he walked.He was rather a dandy—Ginger was convinced his coat alone was more expensive than her own outfit.He’d carefully slicked back his groomed dark hair with pomade.In his hand, he held a fine cigar and quickly offered one to Henry by displaying a case.
Ginger’s eyes drifted over the pictures on his desk, a few of him with what appeared to be foreign dignitaries and one on safari in Africa, where he stood beside a prized kill.She averted her gaze as he sat at his desk and invited them to sit in the two chairs across from him.
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you,” David said to Ginger.“Stephen tells me you are to be married soon.”
Has he really?Ginger fumed, arranging her handbag on her lap with delicate care as she restrained her anger.“It’s not quite settled.”
David gave her a blank, confused, blinking expression.
Would he be less apt to help her if he didn’t believe her to be Stephen’s fiancée?She gritted her teeth and then tried, more amicably, “Well, with the war, it’s not the best time to plan a wedding.”
“Ah, quite right.”David nodded and tapped his cigar, the ash swirling into a crystal tray on his desk.“I see.”He turned his gaze to Henry.“So as I understand it, you’d like to sign a statement to support a—” his eyes scanned a paper in front of him “—John Martin.To keep him from repatriation.”
“Actually, Mr.Peterson,” Ginger cut in, “I wanted to discuss the possibility of preventing the repatriation of both John and his father, Friedrich Martin.We’ve known them for years.”
David frowned.“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.Mr.Martin has a?—”
