CHAPTER SONG: "There Was a Lady" by Dirk Brosse (from the HBO miniseries Parade's End)
Emmanuelle wiped away the remainder of the stinging tears and dried blood from her face, her hands trembling.
"Where...where are we going, William?" She managed to squeak out amidst the crash of the collapsing barn behind them.
"We need to get the line of the second Devons, beyond a town called Ecoust." Schofield removed a knife from his uniformed vest; similar to the one Blake had been wounded with. "We..." He paused, his voice halting with a choking grief. "I have to deliver a message to stop an attack that's happening tomorrow at dawn."
Emmy nodded in understanding, her frenzied mind trying to keep up with everything that had transpired within the last hour. She had never felt more horrified, hopeful and then guilt-ridden in such a minimal amount of time. The weight of it on her body made her want to physically and mentally disappear.
"What if you don't make it in time?" The question escaped from her mouth before she could stop herself. The answer was obvious, but she needed verbal clarification this was definitely the reality in front of her. She could not dream up something like this.
"There's one more thing to do." He shifted around answering her question, keeping his eyes on her face. "This dress will be more trouble than it's worth."
The soldier's eyes went down to the dirt at her feet before looking back into her eyes, asking silently for permission from her. After a second, Emmy only gave a brisk, single nod.
Schofield knelt down to the ground at her feet, taking a fistful of her flowing skirt in his hand, knife still in his grip. He didn't make eye contact with her. The somewhat dull blade began to cut the fabric around her legs. His hands were deliberately avoiding touching the scratched up skin of her legs.
"So it won't get caught on anything. Best to travel practically." He explained in a blunt way, keeping his focus on ripping the fabric apart to where it was above her ankles, but concealing her knees still.
A blush colored her cheeks even though embarrassment was the last thing she ought to have been feeling given the situation and location she was in.
Being in such an intimate position, a soldier kneeling at her feet and handling the clothing around the most sexually revealing part of her body, should have made her feel scandalized and humiliated.
And she was in the time period where she would be labeled as little more than a common street woman should anyone else see them in this position...
The tearing of the skirt's being ripped away into strips broke her away from her thoughts. Schofield stood back up to his feet, putting his knife back into his uniform sheath. Blue pieces of velvet and silk were crumpled in his hands, his arms reached out to her.
"So no lady less divine may wear it." He gently pushed the strips of the dress into her hands. A soft smile graced his face despite the fog of fatigue within the deep ocean of his eyes, most likely for her sake considering that his comrade lay dead only a yard away from them.
Emmy grasped his hands within hers in a silent gesture of thanks, gently squeezing them. Her heartbeat began to increase for some undecipherable reason for a few seconds until she released Schofield's hands, hers entwined with the scraps of useless ribbon and silk. Turning away from him to face the dying fire of the barn, she threw the pieces of clothing into the remaining flames.
Blake's words about her dress filled her with a sense of melancholy as she turned to see Schofield going toward to where his dead friend lay, pale and motionless. Emmy forced herself to follow, joining the soldier as she knelt by Blake's head, a moment to grieve however brief. She wasn't certain what to do, considering she'd only known both of them for an hour, maybe two.
Schofield stared at his unmoving companion, feeling something move against him at his side. His eyes turned to see Emmanuelle resting her head upon his shoulder, her wild mahogany hair tickling his chin as it blew in the breeze from underneath the helmet she wore. His pulse vibrated through his veins as the emotional sensation of gratitude flowed through him at this girl's empathetic presence.
It only made him more determined to keep his promises made. To General Erinmore in delivering the message that meant life or death, to Blake in finding his brother to confirm his being alive, and to Emmanuelle Hunterson in seeing her returned securely to wherever she had come from...
Their tender moment of reflection was shattered by the sound of other voices.
"You alright?" Another male voice entered Emmy's ears, causing her to leap to her feet.
Schofield jumped up to his own feet at the same time, maneuvering the startled girl behind him, positioning himself to hide her from potential threat.
Another male soldier, in similar uniform to Schofield, held his hands up, showing he meant no harm. To Emmanuelle's relief, the British accent in his voice was clear to her. Schofield turned his head around to face her silently, nodding his head to show there was no danger to her. Reinforcements were here to help.
She stepped out from behind him, revealing her tattered state of attire. The soldier raised his eyebrows at her appearance in a confused manner before seeing the body of Blake lying by them.
"Jesus, what happened to him?" The soldier asked. Neither Schofield nor Emmy responded. "Was it the plane? We saw the smoke."
"Yes." Schofield answered him.
Emmy stayed quiet, not certain what to say in the situation. Her eyes were downcast to the ground. Her hand, almost by instinct, reached for Schofield's to assure herself that he would be by her side. He responded immediately to her touch, communicating that she was no longer alone in this foreign wasteland.
Another man stepped into their view from behind the uniformed stranger questioning them.
"Go fetch his things." The man ordered him, authoritative and firm but with a soft edge.
"Yes sir." The soldier obeyed, going to grab whatever else Schofield needed in order to proceed on the remainder of this trek.
From what Emmy could see, the man was clearly older and of a superior rank. His dark eyes were kind as he took in the sight of both her and Schofield, especially softening at seeing her standing, comparatively vulnerable next to the much taller lance corporal at her side.
"A friend?" The older man spoke to her softly, gesturing to the body of Blake with the pointing of his cane.
Emmanuelle nodded, keeping her eyes again downcast, afraid of disrespecting the captain, if she were to guess his exact rank.
"Yes, sir." Schofield answered, his voice direct.
"What are you doing here?" The captain asked.
Emmanuelle gulped before speaking up, not wanting to give the impression of a silent waif. Somebody had to acknowledge her peculiar state of undress.
"I...I'm a nurse, sir. I was assigned to accompany these two men. My dress was ruined when the barn caught fire." She lied, hoping that whatever came out of her mouth was at least half believable.
The captain looked at her as he absorbed her explanation. Perhaps he was only being polite and not wanting to call her out on the fabrication...
"I see, my dear. I'm glad that you weren't harmed in the chaos." His response was comforting to Emmanuelle, her erratic heartbeat decreasing to a normal rate.
The captain turned his eyes directly to Schofield next, waiting for what the young corporal would respond with.
"I have an urgent message for the 2nd Devons. Orders to stop tomorrow morning's attack." Schofield said to the captain, his fingers intertwining with those of the woman beside him. The captain glanced down briefly at their interlocked hands, but said nothing toward that subject.
There were more important things to concern one's self with than the nature of a relationship between a lance corporal and a particularly dressed "nurse".
"Where are they stationed?" The captain asked.
"Just beyond Ecoust." Schofield almost choked on his words. Emmy unlinked their hands and placed hers upon his shoulder, desiring to comfort him.
"Come with me, both of you." The captain ordered, walking toward the currently smoking barn, the flames having vanished.
Casting one final glance at Blake, Schofield felt Emmanuelle link her arm around his, leading him towards where the captain was walking and directing them to follow.
"You can feel at peace knowing he's no longer suffering and is in Heaven." Emmy whispered to him, leaning up to his ear.
They both stopped in their tracks. Everything vanished around Schofield for the briefest moment, all the noises of faint voices in the distance, the desolate farmland he was more than eager to leave behind and never look back towards...
Everything disappeared except for the girl before him, her words of inconceivable compassion echoing in his restless mind. Despite her fear and desperation to get out of this godforsaken landscape, she put all that aside to give him some words of kindness to make certain he felt better.
They locked eyes again and this time, Schofield wanted to be a bit bolder in expressing his gratefulness to her. His un-bandaged hand, his fingertips edged with powder burns from recently shooting his rifle at the German pilot, reached up toward her face....
She closed her eyes, as if anticipating his touch, but he pulled away at the sound of the captain's voice.
"Come with me, Corporal. That's an order." His tone was firm, directed at both of them even though he only mentioned Schofield specifically.
They continued following the captain, Emmanuelle's arm still linked to Schofield as they walked around kindling pile of the farmhouse and toward the sound of vehicles and more soldiers. An entire cavalry convoy...
The private that had first alerted them of the convoy's presence came up to Schofield and handed him back his rifle, silently acknowledging the lance corporal before tipping his own helmet to Emmanuelle in gentlemanly respect. She briefly smiled in response but couldn't help but feel uneasy.
Emmy's grip around Schofield's arm tightened, a queasiness invading her stomach at the thought of being surrounded by strange, restless and rowdy men, being the only woman around and possibly the first one all of them had set eyes on in months. A shiver racked her spine at the sound of raucous laughter from one of the trucks mixed with random shouts of profanity and insults from further up the line, something about a tree trunk obstructing the road and trying to clear it out.
What were the odds they weren't as chivalrous and careful with her like Blake and Schofield were?
"We're passing through Ecoust. We can take you some of the way." The captain offered as they approached the side of the final truck in the line-up, thankfully out of view from the soldiers waiting to keep going. The three of them went to the truck up front where the tree trunk was being moved by a group of privates and sorts of other ranks Emmy didn't recognize.
"Excuse me, Captain." She spoke up, halting both men. The superior officer turned to listen, his gaze upon her curious and patient, which she was thankful. "Would it be possible to have something to wear over my dress? I...I would feel exposed, sitting in the truck amidst all these men..."
She trailed off intentionally, praying for her dignity that the captain would understand. Schofield's eyes flitted between both her and the commanding officer, mentally preparing himself to defend her should the captain be anything but respectful to a woman rightfully concerned about her physical safety.
After a silent pause of contemplating her question, the captain smiled softly at her and removed his own coat, which would for certain cover her entire body, more so than the dress had before being torn to shreds.
"You may take mine, Miss." The captain reached out toward Emmanuelle with his brown long-coat, decorated with multiple stars alongside the wide brimmed collar and worn at some of the seams. "Need not to worry about returning it, either."
Emmy carefully took the coat into her hands, pulling the sleeves around her arms. Schofield moved behind her to help adjust it securely around her petite form, making sure it fit on her shoulders so as not to let it fall. The bottom went straight down to cover her ankles. After the coat was fastened around her, she removed her helmet briefly and allowed Schofield to carefully bunch her hair up to fit inside and further conceal her appearance as a woman. Despite her hair being tangled in untamable knots, she didn't feel a bit of head related pain; Schofield handled her hair as if it were the finest silk.
"Sir, are you certain I can't return the favor and give it back?" She certainly didn't want to take advantage and get special treatment from these strangers, being so out of her element.
"Absolutely not. You would have more use of it than I." The captain's tone held that of a fatherly assurance toward her. Tears brimmed in her eyes...
She didn't know how much more of this underserved virtuousness she could take.
"Lance Corporal, I'll inform the Colonel up ahead that you two are being added to our troupe for the time being. You find yourselves a seat. It may be a bit crowded." With a final courtesy nod toward Emmanuelle, he turned from there and walked toward the front line of the ensemble, where that tree was finally removed from blocking the road.
Schofield went around Emmy to get a good look at her disguise. Even with her long hair hidden and body covered in a captain's over-coat, her features were still soft, feminine and...distracting. They needed to add one more thing.
"Hold still for a moment, Emmanuelle." He bent down and grabbed up some fresh dirt in his hands. Rubbing it between his palms, he looked the girl straight in the eye. "This should help conceal your facial features from them."
"Surely, I can't be that attractive to be making every man in those trucks want to..." She stopped herself before finishing that sentence.
Schofield felt anger boil through his body at the thought of her being violated in such a way, no doubt that it had crossed her mind when she first encountered him and Blake. He managed to calm himself by brushing the dirt along her cheeks and forehead, his fingertips tingling at the softness of her skin.
The concentration in his eyes brought to Emmy's mind the demeanor of a painter stroking his brush along the white canvas with the dedication of a true artist, as though her face was the most delicate of things Schofield had ever laid his hands upon...
The honking of the trucks broke them from their task. Schofield took one last look at her, taking in her appearance, much changed from the ashen-faced damsel he had found in the farmhouse.
"Come on, they're leaving now." Taking her small hand within his as if it were a natural habit, he led her to the final truck in the line-up, where it would be easier to locate where to jump off from.
Emmanuelle hesitated as Schofield stepped up to the truck, feeling the numerous eyes of strangers upon her, dread coiling around her abdomen like a snake encircling its prey. Schofield's hand holding hers kept her tethered from stepping back.
"Emmy." He spoke softly her nickname, dropping the twentieth century speech pattern of using her full name or formal use of her last name. "I swear on my honor as a soldier, I will not allow you to be harmed while you're at my side."
She looked straight into those sky-blue eyes of his, knowing he was begging for her to believe and trust him. Then, her line of sight moved to the soldiers seated inside the truck, talking amidst each other, eager to move along to their destination.
At last, she stepped closer to Schofield, removing her hand from his to place both of them upon his shoulders. Understanding what she was preparing for him to do, he bent down and held his own hands to her waist, gingerly hoisting her up into the truck before pulling himself up inside to join her.
She found a space by the edge so she could have a clear view of the outside, Schofield beside her as he sat down. The vulgar odor of cigar smoke invaded her nostrils along with the noise of the soldiers chattering about subjects she could have cared less about in various accents her mind did not have the energy to listen for which belonged to what region.
None of them attempted to make conversation with her, or even acknowledged her existence. Schofield only vaguely telling them why they were hitching a ride on the truck, for a deadline that couldn't afford to be missed.
She was just glad to be resting, Schofield's hand holding hers keeping her from drifting off...
Then, the lurching of the truck stopping suddenly broke the supposed calm and all the men groaned in irritation. The tires beneath the truck drowning in the mud...
Emmanuelle leaned out and saw the mud splattering from the tires struggling in the soaked ground.
Before Schofield could say anything, she leapt down from the truck and managed to land on the grass so her shoes wouldn't get caught in the mud. She heard footsteps follow close behind her, no doubt her designated protector, but she had to do something other than stay silent in the corner...
How would she ever get home if she didn't take action?
"You need to put it in reverse." She yelled to the driver, who she recognized as the Private who first came upon them at the farmhouse just awhile ago. Her voice wasn't even hidden under a lower tone to pass herself off as a man. "Reverse!"
Her gender be damned, someone had to do something productive...
The privates in both the driver's and passenger's seats both stared as she dared to give orders. Removing the helmet to free her hair, she revealed herself as a young woman, and by God's will she was going to give these men some sensibility to get out of this situation.
"Emmanuelle, what on earth are you doing?" Schofield rushed to her side, his voice toned with worry and aggravation. Â His hands gently grasped her shoulders. His gaze held her own, silently expecting something for her to say. "You can't order around soldiers like this."
"Why? Because I'm not a soldier or because I'm a woman?" She questioned him bluntly, which took the normally stoic Lance Corporal by surprise.
"It's about your safety." He avoided answering her interrogative statement, much to her annoyance. "And we can't compromise their willingness to give us transportation."
Much to her chagrin, Schofield did have a valid point. If he was going to deliver that message on time, they had to take advantage of having vehicles at their disposal. She could dispute gender politics in the twentieth century when she was safe at home and this all was a distant nightmare of a memory.
"I'm sorry, William." She took hold of his hands within hers, massaging the rough callous of his palms with her thumbs. "I understand that you want to keep me safe."
Schofield nodded, pleased that she seemed to understand. Seeing her flowing hair free from Blake's helmet, her cheeks reddened with the chill in the air and her eyes alight with the fiery strength to keep going, he had never seen a visual more radiant than the woman who stood before him...
He opened his mouth to respond, but she pressed two dainty fingers to his lips to silence him.
"Getting this message to the Second Devons and finding a way home for me is not what you're going to do, but what we are going to do. And my being a woman shouldn't make any difference to getting this damned truck out of the mud." Her fingers traveled from his lips to his cheek, similar to when he had almost touched her face in that brief moment of intimacy back at the farm.
Schofield took ahold of her hand, pulling it away from his face and his lips chastely kissing the pulse of her wrist.
"You make a hard bargain to resist, Emmanuelle Hunterson." That was when Schofield knew for sure...
This woman from the future as she claimed to be...
Perhaps she was sent here to be part of his own future...