No Place For A Lady: A sweeping wartime romance full of courage and passion. Gill Paul

declaring that he would be my slave was a bit of fun, but I knew from his eyes he was serious as well. He said he would give me his heart and I could do as I wished with it, even trample upon it.’ She smiled fondly. ‘When he called on me the following morning, we couldn’t stop talking. He told me about being in the Hussars, about his love of horses … and then he asked about my family. And when I told him that my mother died when I was thirteen, I swear there were tears of sympathy in his eyes. I think that’s when I truly began to fall in love with him. He was so compassionate.’

      Adelaide took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, my dear. Thirteen is very young to be without a mother’s guidance. Do you have siblings with whom you can talk, perhaps an aunt to advise you?’

      Lucy grimaced and turned to look out to sea. ‘I have a sister, Dorothea, who is thirteen years my senior, but she is a stern old maid, who took against Charlie and tried to prevent our marriage. She said we hadn’t known each other long enough – but we knew from the start we were perfect for each other. Both of us are outgoing on the surface but lonely underneath. We were instantly as close as close can be.’

      ‘How long had you known each other before you got engaged?’

      ‘Nine weeks.’ Adelaide raised an eyebrow and Lucy hurried on. ‘For some people that might not seem like much but when you are in love, why wait? I couldn’t bear him to go off to war without me. Even an hour apart is difficult, a day unbearable. Don’t you feel the same way about Captain Cresswell?’

      Adelaide cocked her head to one side. ‘My story is quite different because Bill and I grew up knowing each other. We lived nearby, our families were friends, and we played together as children. The realisation that we loved each other came gradually, and I think our families knew before we did. We married around your age – are you eighteen or nineteen, my dear?’

      ‘Eighteen.’

      ‘And it was blissful. But then we had some difficult years when I lost four babies in a row …’ She stared out towards the horizon, her voice flat. ‘I felt terrible for Bill. Such a fine man should have a son, and it seemed I would not be able to give him one. I became very ill and almost wished I would die so he could be remarried to a woman who would be able to give him an heir. And then, at the age of twenty-eight, when I had long since given up hope, along came another pregnancy. I rested all the way through, never venturing out of the house, and my daughter Martha was born hale and hearty, followed a year later by little Archie.’ She turned to Lucy, eyes glinting. ‘Bill was beside himself with joy when he held his daughter for the first time. He was nervous as he cradled her tiny body in his big hands,’ – she curved her own hands to demonstrate – ‘and I have never loved him as much as I did at that moment. You see, love changes through the years. We had our childish love, when we played together as youngsters, then the love of sweethearts and the thrill when we were newlyweds, but going through adversity together deepens love and makes it more true. You’ll find this with Charlie, my dear. You’re only at the very beginning.’

      Lucy was enthralled. ‘What an inspiring story! You make me want to be a better wife to Charlie so as to earn this deeper love you talk about.’

      ‘I’m sure you will. And in time you will prove to your sister Dorothea that Charlie is a worthy husband for you. She’ll come round, I know she will. If nothing else, she is going to want to meet her nieces and nephews one day.’

      Lucy blushed. ‘That blessing, I hope, is a little way off.’ Charlie had assured her he was taking precautions, although she wasn’t entirely sure what these might be.

      ‘Of course,’ Adelaide teased, ‘but babies have a way of surprising you, just as my two did.’

      ‘I realise now why they are so precious to you, after such a long wait and so many disappointments.’

      ‘Yes, indeed.’ Adelaide blinked hard. Evidently it was difficult to talk of them. ‘If only your children could one day help to heal Charlie’s rift with his own family. I wish that could be so.’

      ‘Do you know the Harvingtons?’ Lucy was keen to hear about them. Charlie had painted them as heartless but surely they couldn’t be all bad.

      ‘Bill has met them and told me a little. It’s such a tragedy.’

      ‘They must be very harsh people to cast off their own son. Charlie told me it was over some debt or other. Why do his brothers not forgive him at least? I know he feels desperately sad about it.’

      Adelaide’s eyes widened, and she seemed lost for words. ‘At least he has you,’ she said finally. ‘He told Bill he loves you so much he would do anything for you. Already we can see how much you have helped him to overcome his grief. Now I think it’s time to prepare for luncheon, my dear. Shall we go down?’ She offered her arm.

      When Lucy reached the door of her cabin, one of the soldiers’ wives, a Mrs Williams, was hurrying along the corridor towards her. ‘May I come into your cabin for a moment, Mrs Harvington?’ she asked, her tone urgent, and Lucy replied ‘Yes, of course,’ thinking that perhaps the woman wished to borrow some item she had forgotten to bring herself.

      ‘Sorry to intrude, but Mrs Duberly is after me,’ Mrs Williams whispered and put a finger to her lips.

      Just then they heard Mrs Duberly charging along the corridor, calling for Mrs Williams. Lucy quickly pulled her cabin door closed and the two women stood quietly until her footsteps had passed.

      Mrs Williams gave an indignant snort. ‘I agreed to act as her lady’s maid on the ship but I didn’t think that meant I had to be her general skivvy. She wants me up all night laundering whatever lace handkerchief she might have blown her dainty nose into during the day, then woe betide me if it is not dry by morn when she wants to use it again. The woman’s a battleaxe. Not a human bone in her body. She’s only interested in her beloved horse.’

      ‘Can’t you resign from your position?’

      ‘I tried, but she threatened to have me put off the ship. Says I only got a place on board because of her. So it seems best I just stay out of her way.’ She cackled. ‘I’m rather enjoying making her charge round huffing and puffing with ill temper.’

      Mrs Williams winked at Lucy before opening the door a crack and peering out to check it was safe to leave.

      ‘Thanks, Ma’am,’ she said. ‘I reckon as far as officers’ wives go, you’re one of the decent ones.’ She slipped away and Lucy smiled to herself, while hoping that Mrs Duberly never found out about her complicity.

      On the 18th May, the Shooting Star entered the Dardanelles, an enclosed channel with high rocky coast on either side, thickly covered in dark green trees running from just above the waterline to the top of its slopes. The ship was becalmed for two days while awaiting a steamer to tow them to Constantinople and the ladies had ample time to view the cattle and mules grazing wild in the forests. Lucy borrowed a pair of binoculars and peered with curiosity at a Turkish fort high on a rock, with some camels at the gate and soldiers in bright red uniform milling around.

      They arrived in Constantinople at sunset on the 22nd and Lucy’s first impression was of tall slender towers (Adelaide told her they were minarets) standing stark against the rosy-orange of the sky. As they admired the view, a melancholy chant echoed round the town, and Adelaide told Lucy it was the Muslim’s call to prayer, an exhortation that was repeated five times a day. Lucy was thrilled at the exoticism of it. They hadn’t even disembarked but already she could tell that this city was much more foreign than Malta. Once they were at anchor, hawkers paddled out on boats that looked little more than large wicker trays, holding up goods for sale: bales of fabric, live chickens, and unfamiliar fruits. It was too dark to see but still they called out in English: ‘Hello lady, beautiful things, very cheap.’

      By daylight, Constantinople was impressive, with houses painted in pretty shades of mustard, terracotta, pale blue and mint green, surrounded by dark green trees and masses of purple flowers. Adelaide explained that the city was sliced in two by the Bosphorus, the wide