The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(17)

"I understand, truly. It's a wonder you've made it as far as you have with so many desperate people nowadays dispossessed and displaced after the war. But you're safe here, I give you my word. I can only imagine how terrible all of this has been for you. You can stay as long as you need to," she found herself inviting rashly, even though she had yet to get a single satisfactory answer to her many questions. As her brother said, sometimes things simply had to be a leap of faith.



He looked doubtful, however, so that she insisted, "You're fine here. We have the whole house to ourselves, just the four of us, with Jenny and Caleb. Just relax and rest yourself. I shall try to be as quiet as possible. If you want or need company or assistance, just call. Otherwise, I shall give you your privacy. I know that was one thing Jonathan hated about Army life, rarely having a moment to himself."



"Hmm, funny that," he said, relaxing his tensed shoulders. "I'm getting the feeling that I've been lonely, and am glad of the company."



"Strange."



"But then, I've been in hospital for a long time. It's not exactly a quiet and restful place, for all the inmates are ill and supposed to be resting."



"I can imagine. But never mind that now," she said, withdrawing her hand from his chest at last to change his compresses. "You can tell me all about yourself once you are feeling better. It's getting late. Time to sleep."



She made him lay back down on the pillow and pulled the sheet and coverlet over him. Then she sat down by the bed and reapplied the vinegar and brown paper.



"You've been very kind, Sarah. I can't believe my luck."



"I'm sorry, sir. I can understand how upsetting this must be for you. As I've promised, you can stay as long as you like until you find your family and other friends. But I do have one question."



"Yes?" he asked, his tone and expression wary.



"Can you tell me how it is, if you can't recall anything about your past, that you believe your name to be Jonathan Deveril?" she asked gently.



He sighed. "When I arrived at the field hospital, apparently, I had commission papers concealed in a secret pocket of my trousers which were made out in the name of Jonathan Deveril. They were my only means of identification."



She frowned. "The only? What about insignia, your uniform badges, buttons?"



"There was nothing else. I was barefoot and wearing only a pair of white Army issue breeches. My injuries told them I had been through something horrendous. My back was cut to ribbons and I had no memory. The doctor doubted I would live. I lost my senses, lapsed into unconscious, had brain fever, was paralyzed."



"My goodness," she gasped. "How long were you like that?"



He shrugged. "As near as they can tell, about a year. I've been gradually getting better over this past year, but it's been a real struggle. I couldn't speak, couldn't walk. But the monks-"



She stared at him. "Monks?"



"The monks at the monastery which took in many of the wounded who couldn't be moved or sent home. They helped me learn how to walk and talk again. More than that. I re-learned English, and also learned French, Spanish and Portuguese from the monks and other soldiers there. I learned about the soil, tilling the fields, and picking oakum for caulking ships. I was able to earn my keep, and given a reason to get out of bed in the morning. I convalesced for about a year in total after I woke up."



"So why are you here now, back in England, I mean?"



He shifted in the bed slightly to get more comfortable. "The war in Spain was pretty much over once the British crossed over the Pyrenees, so some of the officers began to repatriate the wounded who were fit enough to travel.



"I was sent home as soon as I was well enough. I made my way to the Horse Guards to try to find out something more about myself, and was told that I was Jonathan Deveril, and that I had lived in Sussex at the time of my enlistment in 1808."



She nodded. "That would have been true. It was true until the spring of 1812, when my brother came home, settled his affairs with my father, and went off to study."



"I see." He looked thoughtful for a time.



"What did you do next?" she asked, though she could already guess.



"I went down to Lewes to visit my supposed family home. Only when I got there, I was told that the Deveril family had gone away. That the father had died, and the sisters had moved to the north. And that the son, named Jonathan, had gone back to study at Oxford."



"That's all true as well. They only left out the fact that I went to Oxford with my brother to keep house for him."