She shook her head. “Suicide doesn’t take away the pain. Death merely passes it along to someone else, which makes it twice as painful.”
In a remote part of his brain where logic dwelled, he knew she told the truth. “It’s all too much.” He couldn’t bear to tell her how he’d failed yet again, so he maneuvered his body to the edge of his chair. The voices in his head goaded him onward. He looked at the dark expanse of the Serpentine. In mere moments, it would be over, and he’d know peace and blessed silence. “I can’t. If you don’t already hate me, feel disgust for me, you will if our relationship were to continue.” He swallowed hard as his throat closed with unshed tears. “Goodbye, Jane.”
“Oh no you don’t, you stubborn arse.” She leaped to her feet, hurried to face him the second Finn leaned forward and left the chair. Jane took the brunt of his weight in her arms, but it was too much for her to hold. She struggled to find purchase on the muddy bank. Fear reflected in her eyes as her feet slipped. His momentum held, and they both fell into the Serpentine. Her brief scream tugged at his heart before the water closing over her head stole the sound.
Damnation.Above everything, he couldn’t let her drown because of him. The shock of the water jolted him out of his tortured thoughts enough to think clearly. He grabbed her about the waist as she struggled. The frantic pounding of his heart was a welcome feeling. Once her head broke the surface, he used his other arm to guide them. “Help me to the bank. I can do the rest.” Thankfully, the water was just over five feet deep, for they hadn’t had time to wade out further.
“You’re really trying my patience, Major.” The darling woman must have hit the bottom, but she was too short to stand and breathe at the same time. But his Jane had never given up before. She pushed and ultimately pulled him toward safety. “Once your arse is safe, you will tell me what I want to know.”
“Agreed.” He’d been an idiot. The dunk in the water had brought a realization along with clarity. I don’t want to die.
Once she’d scrambled onto the bank, lying there on her side with her chest heaving, Finn pulled himself on the slippery grass with his arms. His right leg tingled; the muscles ached. He was able to move the leg slightly to help haul himself out, but there was no time to marvel at the occurrence. The unexpected exercise as well as the gambit of emotions had left him exhausted. He flopped upon the grass, and when he discovered a second wave of strength, he used his forearms and elbows to move over to her location, where he collapsed with his head on her hip, lying on his side so he could look into her face.
“I’m so very sorry, Jane,” he said between wheezing for air.
“I won’t accept that until you tell me about the ring.” She coughed, wiped at the moisture on her face, leaving a streak of mud behind on her cheek. “And so help me if you’ve been toying with my emotions all along—”
He took one of her hands, the poor glove wet and muddy, and brought it to his lips. “I swear I haven’t.”
“Good. We must have trust between us going forward.”
“You’ll have it.” He blew out a breath. “The story of the ring is wrapped up in the Battle of Waterloo.” Hopefully, he could make short work of the tale and spare her the gorier details.
She squeezed his hand. “If you find yourself lost, remember I’m here.”
“I know that now.” For long moments he laid there as he pondered how to begin. “I met Edward four years before that battle while in France. I’d made captain by that time and had a nice allotment of men under my command. We struck up a close friendship, for the horrors of war were never more concentrated than in that country.” A shudder moved through his body. “He reminded me of Brand, so that probably made it easier.”
“Was it horrid there?”
“Sometimes. The winters were the worst. Supply lines were interrupted on both fronts. Food and clothing shortages plagued us, as did the lack of proper munitions.” He drew his thumb over her knuckles. “At times there was an unspoken truce to halt the fighting until both sides had what they needed. But not always. The French were bastards at war, and savage at that.”
Finn closed his eyes while images of brutalized bodies of soldiers littered fields they’d had no choice but to march through, the forms already picked clean of clothes, boots, or anything of value—even sometimes teeth—for the ground was too frozen to give them proper burials. “Getting to know Edward better helped pass the time and balanced out the atrocities. We shared letters received from home. He had a girl in England he intended to marry.”
“Oh, no. How sad,” Jane murmured.
“War rarely births happy stories.” He held onto her hand as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. Perhaps she was. “The war dragged on. We’d been fortunate to survive for as long as we did, but we were experienced and knew what to do.” Panic built in his chest, for he was coming to the crux of the story. “My promotion to major came two weeks prior to Waterloo.” He shook his head. “God, Wellington was magnificent. Fearless. He had a way about him that imbued us with confidence and strength. We knew fighting for England and those we’d left behind was the most important job we had.”
“Because of you, Napoleon never stepped foot on English soil.”
“Every battle was hard fought. None so grand or as bloody as Waterloo.” His breath rasped loud as he struggled from the memories. “Two nights before the battle, I promised Edward I’d look after him and keep him safe so he could go home and life a happy life with his woman. He gave me the ring and told me that if he didn’t make it out, to find his girl and give her the ring.”
“There was no way you could have kept that promise though. War is unpredictable.” Her dulcet tones in the dark washed over him and saw him calm.
“I agree. However, the promise was made. Then we found ourselves in the battle for our very lives.” His body shook from reaction or perhaps cold. “We were at it hours, days even. I thought both Edward and I would make it out unscathed, where I’d already lost so many men under my command.” The pain of loss lodged in his chest, but perhaps finally speaking about it would help soothe the memories. “We’d been amassing for another charge, Wellington barking commands from horseback, when a cannon ball exploded into a wheeled cart nearby. In the few seconds when my attention was taken by that, the French came over a ridge. I was hit, the ball going into my back to tear up my spine. Immediately, I fell.”
The acrid scent of cannon fire clogged his nose. Echoes and screams of the dying and wounded rang in his ears. Frantic whinnies of terrified horses danced through his consciousness.
“God, there was so much blood on the ground. It was slippery and vile. So many men slaughtered. I couldn’t think from the agonizing pain that gripped me. When I realized I’d lost the use of my legs, I looked for Edward. He stood not five feet away, staring down a charge by himself. I called out to warn him to run, but it was no use. They were upon him with the advantage. Some of my fellows rushed to his aid, but he’d already been struck. I tried to go to him, check on him, but two of my own men pulled me back behind our lines. Because of that, I survived while Edward didn’t. Shortly after, I passed out from the pain.”
Tears flowed down his cheeks. No longer did he feel the pressure of her hand in his. “I couldn’t keep my promise, couldn’t say goodbye. I failed.”
“Oh, Finn, you didn’t. I think Edward knew you were a man of honor and of your word.”
“Ha. Some honor. I was dragged off the field like a sack of potatoes, sent back to England through France in a horse-cart filled with other wounded men like me. Some of whom didn’t survive the journey.”
“Sometimes, it’s not about the ones we lose, it’s about the ones we save too. I know you saved more men than you lost,” she said in a soft voice. “Remember that.”
“I’ll try.” He swallowed again and tried to shift, for the muscles in his right leg ached fiercely, the nerves felt like fire. The scent of rotting, diseased flesh and blood filled his nose. “It took nearly two years for my recuperation.” As the tears continued to flow, Finn dug the ring from his waistcoat pocket. “A handful of days ago I finally called upon the lady he’d loved. I’d been too much of a coward to do it before then. When I presented her the ring, she refused it, was bitter about Edward’s death. She said that he’d told her in a letter I would take care of her in his stead. When she saw my chair, she refused me too—not that I knew of Edward’s promise in that regard. She blamed me for Edward’s loss.” He took a shuddering breath. “That added to my guilt and pushed me further into darkness. I didn’t know what to do after that.”