The Swan Maid

‘Thank you for your hospitality, landlord.’ Gillingham mounted his horse, tossing a coin to the ostler as he rode through the archway that led into Gresham Street.

Frank Jenkins marched past Lottie without a glance, but Joe Benson saluted and winked. It was obvious from his tight-lipped expression that Frank was sober now and suffering the consequences of drinking too much ale. He must, Lottie thought, have received quite a shock when he discovered that Jezebel Pretty did not live up to her name. She could picture the scene, and was still chuckling as she entered the kitchen, but her smile faded when she came face to face with Jezebel, who did not look too pleased.

‘Gruel,’ she said bitterly. ‘As if I hadn’t got enough to do without cooking pap for a sick soldier. They should have taken him with them.’

‘It’s all right, Mrs Pretty. I’ll see to it.’ Lottie took the wooden spoon from her and stirred the mess of oatmeal and water in the soot-blackened saucepan. ‘I’ll take it to him.’

‘You’d best watch out. Military men are all the same. My man was a soldier. He was a conceited turkeycock, always showing off and putting hisself about. He ain’t so handsome now, and that’s a fact.’ Jezebel picked up a cleaver and severed the head off a chicken carcass before tossing it into a stew pot. She threw the head to Lad, who pounced on it and ran under the table with it in his mouth.

Lottie filled a bowl with gruel, and poured the tea, adding a generous dash of milk to both. ‘I’ll be back in a tick, Cook.’

‘You’d better, or I’ll come looking for you. I ain’t handling breakfasts on me own, not with her ladyship yelling at me to hurry up with the bacon and make more toast. I dunno why I stick it here.’

Lottie escaped from the kitchen and crossed the yard, making for the stairs on the far side. The ostlers were preparing the horses that would take the mail coach on to its next stop, but they were unusually silent and barely raised a nod of acknowledgement when Lottie passed by. She met Ruth and May on the way to room fifteen, but they too seemed tired and listless. Lottie could see that it was going to be a long day, and by evening tempers would be ragged. She could only hope that Mrs Filby had slept well. If not, they would all suffer.

She let herself into Gideon’s room, but it was too dark to see anything other than the shape of the bed.

‘Good morning, Private Ellis.’ When there was no response she placed his breakfast on a small side table and made her way to the window. With the curtains drawn back, daylight flooded in, but it was hot and stuffy and she opened the casement just wide enough to allow some air to circulate.

She hurried to the bedside where Gideon was beginning to stir, and she laid a hand on his forehead. His skin felt cool to the touch, and she sighed with relief. At least he was not running a fever. He opened his eyes and attempted to sit up, but fell back against the pillows with a groan.

‘Where does it hurt?’ Lottie asked anxiously. ‘You might have broken some bones.’

He stared at her with a puzzled frown. ‘What happened? I don’t remember. Where am I?’

‘You had a bad fall,’ she said gently. ‘Your mates brought you to us last night, but they’ve gone on to Chatham. Lieutenant Gillingham said you were to follow as soon as you were able.’

‘Gillingham …’ Gideon repeated dazedly. ‘I can’t place him.’

Lottie perched on the edge of the bed. ‘He is your commanding officer, Gideon. I may call you that, mayn’t I?’

‘Gideon, yes. I think that’s my name.’

‘Don’t you remember anything? Like what you were doing before you fell?’

He shook his head and winced, raising his hand to his temple. ‘My head aches, miss.’

‘Lottie,’ she said firmly. ‘I am Lottie, and you are in room fifteen at The Swan with Two Necks.’ She waited for a moment to see if this meant anything to him, but his blank expression was answer enough. She tried again. ‘You were brought here by Lieutenant Gillingham and Private Benson.’

He dashed his hand across his eyes. ‘Nothing seems to make sense. Please leave me alone.’

‘I will, but only after you’ve had some breakfast.’ She went to retrieve the mug and bowl, and placed them on a chair by the side of the bed. ‘Would you like a sip of tea?’

He nodded. ‘I’m parched.’ He struggled to a sitting position and Lottie plumped up the pillows behind him.

It took some time, but in the end she managed to persuade him to drink the tea. He took a few spoonfuls of gruel, but the effort exhausted him and he lay back, closing his eyes.

‘I have to leave you now,’ Lottie said in a low voice. ‘I’ll return as soon as I am able.’ She was not sure if he heard or understood. She would have liked to stay longer, but the sound of the post horn announced the arrival of the mail coach and there was work to do. ‘I’ll come back when I have a spare moment.’

Mrs Filby was in the kitchen talking to Jezebel. They both turned to stare at Lottie.

‘Well?’ Mrs Filby fixed her with an enquiring look. ‘How is the soldier?’

‘He seems to have lost his memory,’ Lottie said carefully. ‘I think he ought to be seen by a doctor.’

‘Do you? And who are you to make decisions, I might ask?’ Mrs Filby bristled angrily. ‘I or my husband will decide whether or not to call in a physician. The lieutenant left money for the young man’s keep, although not sufficient to pay a doctor’s fees. You will look after him, Lottie, but only in your spare moments.’

‘Yes, don’t think you can wriggle out of your duties,’ Jezebel added fiercely. ‘Take the coffee and toast into the dining parlour, and be quick about it.’

‘Don’t stand there like a ninny, get on with your work.’ Mrs Filby sailed out of the kitchen, leaving Lottie to struggle with the coffee pot and a plate piled high with toast.

Jezebel impaled a slice of bread on the toasting fork. ‘Hurry, girl. There’s another coach due any minute.’

Snatching odd moments of calm in between the frantic turnaround of coaches and private carriages, Lottie visited Gideon as often as possible. She gave him sips of laudanum diluted in water to ease the pain of his bruised ribs and his persistent headache, and at midday she helped him sup some broth. He remained dazed and confused, but she was pleased to see a little colour creep back into his previously ashen face.

Her frequent absences did not go unnoticed. Ruth was the first to comment when she passed Lottie on the first-floor gallery. ‘I dunno what makes you so special. Why were you given the job of nursing the soldier? I could have done it better.’

‘I expect you could,’ Lottie said calmly, ‘but I happened to be there at the time, and you were off flirting with Lieutenant Gillingham. Didn’t it go as you’d hoped?’

Ruth tossed her head. ‘I ain’t interested in military men. Here today and gone tomorrow, that’s soldiers for you.’

‘I thought you fancied him, Ruth.’

‘To tell the truth I did, but then I discovered he was off to the Crimea. I ain’t interested in someone what’s going to get blown to bits. I think I’ll stick to Trotter; at least he comes here twice a week and he’s got the money to treat a girl now and then.’

‘And a wife and family to support.’

‘You don’t know that for sure. Anyway, I’m up for a bit of a laugh now and then. I don’t think I want to get hitched and end up like my ma with a new mouth to feed every year.’

Lottie smiled and hurried on to the sick room to check on Private Ellis.

Despite the Filbys’ refusal to send for a physician, Gideon began to improve. His memory returned gradually, and his headaches lessened. On the third day he was able to get up and sit in a chair by the window that overlooked the stable yard.

Lottie was late bringing him his bowl of soup and a cup of tea, and she apologised as she set them on the small table in front of him. ‘I couldn’t get away sooner, Gideon. We’ve been even busier than usual.’

‘I thought they worked us hard in the army,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘But you never seem to stop.’

‘I’ve been doing this since I was twelve. I suppose I’m used to it.’

‘This smells good.’ He lifted the spoon to his lips, but the movement seemed to hurt him and he hesitated, pulling a face.

‘Are you ribs still hurting?’

‘Just a bit. Maybe you should stay and help me if I can’t manage to feed myself.’

She hesitated, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘Are you saying that to keep me here?’

‘Of course I am. I get lonely, and you need to take a break every now and then.’