Happy reunion in WIP Wednesday
Another reunion in An Unpitied Sacrifice, this time for one of Valeria’s abandoned war brides. A letter arrives from the army, giving the addresses for the missing husbands next-of-kin, and one of them is in London.
***
“It is a twenty-minute drive,” Harry told them. “If the Atkinsons are still butchers in Cheapside, Señora Hernandez, you shall soon have your answers.”
“It was a family business, Colonel. I think the family will still be there. I hope so. We were separated when the army invaded France. Jorge and I were with the regiment’s baggage train, crossing a river on a bridge made of boats. The bridge broke apart, and the boat we were in was swept downriver.”
She shrugged and grimaced, a silent and somehow comprehensive commentary on the vicissitudes of war. “We survived, but we did not come ashore for many miles, and in the end, we were still on the Spanish side of the river, and far from anyone who knew us. And I was ill, and winter was coming. There was a convent offering beds to those who were displaced by the war. Jorge and I owe our lives to them.”
Valeria had heard the story before. Maria-Lucia had been pregnant when the pontoon bridge collapsed under the pressure of a storm-surging river. She and Jorge had parted company with their boat at some point in the wild ride. Somehow, the mother had kept the child above water, at least enough that when the pair of them finally made it to shore, Jorge was still with her and alive.
Maria-Lucia, though, had borne the brunt of blows from storm-rack travelling downriver with her, and had gone into labour, losing a tiny daughter who had been too little to survive. She did not remember much after that. Nuns from the convent must have found her and her son, and given them refuge.
By the time Maria-Lucia had been well enough to write to George Atkinson, and had been able to scrounge paper and enough money to send a letter, the war had been over. Whether her letter ever reached the army was questionable. It was even more unlikely that George had received it, especially given today’s revelation, that he had left the army.
Valeria had personal experience of the disinterest of British army clerks in the foreign wives of British soldiers, particularly those whose relationships had not been through the formality of a Church of England wedding.
The carriage was drawing to a halt outside of a butcher’s shop, the entire face of which, except for the opening into the interior, was covered with animal carcasses hanging on hooks. Above the display of meat, the name Atkinson Bros., in bright red against a light green background, spread the full width of the shop.
“Atkinson Brothers,” Harry commented. “Perhaps George has gone into the trade with his brother.”
Now that the time was upon her, Maria-Lucia descended reluctantly from the carriage, and immediately reached for Valeria’s hand. “What if they do not want me?” she asked.
“Then we shall find a place for you and Jorge on our estate,” Harry said firmly. “If that is what you wish. Or we shall send you back to Spain with money to set up somewhere as a widow.”
“Let us find out,” Valeria said, and she led the way under the animal carcasses and into the shop.
As her eyes adjusted to the change in light, Maria-Lucia gasped and gripped her hand more tightly, peering at the man behind the counter. “You are not George,” she declared after a moment.
The man stared back, his eyes widening, and then he stepped back from the counter and lifted a curtain behind it to disclose a doorway. “George!” he shouted into the space beyond.
Turning back toward them, his gaze fixed again on Maria-Lucia, he said, “He’s upstairs.”
Upstairs, but coming down, for Valeria could hear the thud of boots on wood, descending from the floor above and approaching.
The curtain was pulled back from the other side and another man stepped into the shop. He was very similar in appearance to the first man, and Valeria could see why Maria-Lucia had gasped. But it was obvious neither the second man nor her friend had any doubt about the identification of the other.
George—for it had to be he—vaulted over the counter even as Maria-Lucia dropped Valeria’s hand and threw herself forward, saying, “George!” Then they were in one another’s arms, Maria-Lucia repeating her man’s name, and he saying, over and over, “I thought you were dead. They told me you had drowned.”
The first man, presumably the brother William, watched the embrace with a fond smile, and Valeria’s worry for her friend eased. Maria-Lucia had found the welcome she had hoped for.
By the time the pair had calmed enough to share their stories, William had introduced himself to Harry and Valeria, put a “Back in ten minutes” sign up on the door, and called back up the stairs for his wife. Soon, Maria-Lucia was being introduced to a plump cheerful woman called Molly, and then the whole story of being saved from the river and what happened after had to be told again.
The upshot was that George came back to Harry and Valeria’s house in the Redepenning carriage, with his brother’s blessing to retrieve his family and bring them to the residence above the butcher’s shop.
“Bring back our nephew, brother,” William instructed, “and all of our sister’s things. What a happy day this is!”
