Chapter Sixteen
Chloe made her way to the kitchens, where she spotted the cook, Mary, taking a tray of scones out of the oven and setting them on a rack to cool.
“Good afternoon,” Chloe said.
Mary straightened at the sight of Chloe standing in the doorway. “Is there anything you need, Miss Chloe?” Although Mary was only a few years older than Chloe, the crow's-feet around her eyes and her graying hair made her appear a decade older.
“May I have a word in private?” Chloe asked.
A moment of unease flashed across Mary’s face and she wiped her hands on her apron. “If this is about last night’s meal, I apologize about the goose. I know it’s a greasy bird, but—”
“The meal was delicious. I want to ask your husband a few questions.”
“My husband?”
“Yes, about the war.” Chloe recalled Alice telling her that the cook’s husband had difficulties after the war, and the information had drawn her to the kitchens today.
Mary’s face fell. “I don’t know. Ben hasn’t been himself since his return.”
“I understand your hesitation, but I have an…an acquaintance. He’s suffered since his return from war as well. I was hoping Ben could help.”
After Chloe had seen Michael at the orphanage, she had been determined to cease thinking of him. Yet here she was asking if there were other soldiers who suffered similar symptoms and if the duke could be helped. The thought that there was someone out there who could possibly aid Michael was a draw she couldn’t resist.
Mary took a deep breath, then nodded. “Wait here, miss.”
Minutes later, Ben entered the room. A tall, thin man with blond hair and bushy sideburns, he had difficulty meeting Chloe’s gaze.
“Thank you for speaking with me,” Chloe said.
Ben shuffled his feet on the floor. “My wife said you had an acquaintance who suffers from war sickness.”
“I do. He has nightmares. Difficulty sleeping. But the most troublesome are the episodes or fits that come on unexpectedly. Anything can trigger them. Loud noises such as fireworks. The sight of Napoleon’s carriage at a museum.”
Ben lifted his head and met her eyes. There was a deep-seated anguish in the brown depths of his gaze.
Chloe struggled to stay calm and not raise her voice. “Is there anything that can help? Anyone? A particular army physician who has had success treating these symptoms?”
Mary scoffed. “The army doctors wanted to cut and bleed him. They are useless.”
“Not all soldiers experience symptoms upon their return. The physicians believe only weak soldiers are so afflicted,” Ben spoke up.
The weak ones? Of all the names she’d called the Duke of Cameron since she’d met him, weak was not one of them. He’d been an officer in charge of countless lives, and she’d heard stories of his capable command during the chaos of war.
For the first time, she understood why he hadn’t sought aid from the army. If they thought him weak and inferior and wanted to bleed him, why would he?
Chloe was enraged. Bloodletting wouldn’t help. It wasn’t a physical illness but one of the mind.
“It wasn’t until we talked with other soldiers that the symptoms eased,” Mary said.
“Please tell me,” Chloe implored.
“You must talk about your fears, even the worst of those,” Ben said.
“I’m not sure he will cooperate. My acquaintance blames himself for things he could not have changed. Decisions that were made for him.”
Ben sighed. “No solider wants to relive their most fearful memories of battle. I avoided it like the plague, but it did little to aid me and only served to make the nightmares worse. Your friend must face his fears, and the only way to do that is by talking about them. It may be difficult to speak about the worst days of your life, but it becomes easier over time. I was fortunate to have Mary and a fellow solider to talk to.”
“What happened to your other comrades who suffered from war sickness?” Chloe asked.
Ben shook his head regretfully. “They were not so fortunate, miss. The army sent two to the asylum. Both hung themselves within three months.”
Lord. It was just as her maid Alice had told her. The army must ship them off to asylums to die rather than attempt to heal its own soldiers. “I’m sorry.”
The thought of that happening to Michael made Chloe feel nauseated. Could she help him when she swore to stay away from him?
She could write him a letter explaining what she’d learned from Ben. She prayed he would take the advice or at least seek out other soldiers with similar conditions so that he wasn’t alone. But just as the thought occurred to her, she pushed it aside. In her heart, she knew it wouldn’t work. The duke was too proud to take written advice or to seek out other soldiers with similar conditions on his own. She’d have to visit him and convince him herself.
Could she do it? Could she go to his home, knowing the attraction between them was as strong as lightning. Could she resist him?
It was a risk. But she’d seen him suffer not once, but twice, and she felt a strong need to aid him.
She’d have to be careful sneaking out of Huntingdon’s house. She’d tell Michael what she’d learned, urge him to take the first steps to recovery, while maintaining a firm resolve to keep a physical distance between them. It was the best she could do. Anything else and it would be more than her reputation in jeopardy.
It would be her heart.