An Occasion Of Valor

By Wayne M. Hoy

It’s 1854 and war rages between Britian and their French allies against Russia in Crimea, Turkey. Many of Britain’s sons have already been shipped to the front lines and more join them daily in the trenches. Lady Lillian Hansford is quite disappointed that the dashing British Captain she’s just met and has nevertheless formed an immediate attachment to, has been sent to fight against the Russians. Jaded and dejected, Lady Lillian searches the newspapers daily for news of the war and, in particular, her Captain. In so doing she discovers the terrible conditions of the wounded and dying soldiers in Crimea. She also learns that Miss Florence Nightingale is gathering her own group of nurses with plans to travel to the Crimea to help treat the wounded and improve their conditions. Although initially motivated by a sense of Christian charity, she nonetheless, see an opportunity to be with her Captain. She convinces Miss Nightingale to take her with her as her personal assistant.

Lillian works tirelessly to ease the suffering of the wounded but in the chaos of war, is unable to find her Captain. She does encounter one of his lieutenants, James Wright, whom she resents and mistrusts, convinced he is trying to keep her from her Captain.

Lieutenant James Wright was raised by a poor Irish family and groomed from the start for a military career. He never questioned his commission when he found himself fighting against the Russians in the Crimea. He does question, however, his frequent and puzzling dreams about a woman who he felt he knew to be his mother but who was not the woman who raised him. Were these dreams or childhood memories resurfacing?

Lillian begins to question her own convictions as well. For some reason nothing is as it seems concerning her Captain. And she finally comes to the conclusion that what she really desires is just one worthy gentleman of noble character and firm convictions who would be a hero rather than acting the part for personal advantage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823013529

Wayne M. Hoy

Wayne M. Hoy presently resides in Southern Indiana with his wife of 62 years. A retired Police Lieutenant and father of nine, Wayne has taught a wide range of courses in criminal justice during his law enforcement career. His diverse education has supplied him with an expertise in many areas and he is an educator in the field of Theology as well. In his spare time, he indulges his passion for writing and researching settings for his historical romances, which include, The Wolf and the Stag, The Miniature, Appeal to Honor, Banners of Canvas, Fire in the Sky, Lone Star Justice, Ambush at Piñon Canyon, Day of the Outlaw, The Long Way Home, Where Eagles Dare, The Lady and ‘The Eagle’, The Eagle’s Wing, Casey Sue Thornton, A Chance Encounter and his latest, An Occasion of Valor.

Book preview

41679.jpg Prologue 41684.jpg

separ2.jpg

Kilkenny, Ireland

March, Year of Our Lord 1854

L ieutenant James Anthony Wright sat his horse for a moment gazing at the small two-story stone house. The black stone with decorative white fossils that formed the backbone of many of Kilkenny’s buildings was quarried locally. A slight drizzle began to fall as he swung from his horse, borrowed from a friend, and wrapping the reins around a post walked slowly around the side of the house to a garden complete with rows of new green sprouts of herbs and vegetables.

He was a tall slender young man of four and twenty; square-shouldered and erect, his sinewy limbs strong, his blue eyes, intense, his lips firm-set. This was the only home he had ever known, and he was leaving it. He had come this gray overcast morning to say farewell to the old couple whose surname he had taken as his own since he had come to them as a babe.

Jamie! a lilted voice broke in upon his musings.

A smile tipped the corner of his lips, and he turned in time to catch the laughing whirlwind that flung herself at him.

Mary, he laughed wrapping his arms about the slender dark-haired girl.

Ye didn’t tell us ye’re be comin’, she scolded gaily.

I decided I’d get here before my note saying I was on my way, he said. His voice carried a soft but distinctly Irish lilt.

Her laugh slowly faded as she stepped back to peer at him from head to toe.

No, she said shaking her pretty dark-haired head. Yer not…oh Jamie.

Mam and Da here? he asked glancing at the back door to the house.

Aye. Ye’ll find Da’s restin’ in his chair before the grate. The rain troubles his knee more now. Mam’s in the kitchen, she said watching him.

I best go see Da first, he said squeezing one of her hands he still held.

His hands, encased in gloves, were at the moment clasped behind his snug-fitting red uniform coat with its gold braded epaulets on each shoulder and the row of bright brass buttons down the front. A wide white belt sat diagonally across his chest from right shoulder to left hip from which a saber in a shiny brass scabbard rested against his blue uniform-clad leg. An aguillette of gold cord hung from his left shoulder.

How do I look, sir? James said.

Seated in a stuffed armchair next to the grate where a small fire burned, the older man’s critical gaze, nearly hidden under white bushy eyebrows, moved slowly over James starting at the shiny number 30 on the front of his black cap and descending to his highly polished black shoes.

Jamie, ye be a fine grand lad, an’ I’m proud te know ye, but ye’ll gain no favor from yor Mam, he said, and unlike the younger man the Irish brogue was thick on his tongue.

I understand, sir, James said softly.

When will ye be shippin’ out? he asked massaging his right knee, and his eyes, for a moment, were distracted with memories, memories that took him back forty years ago to the peninsula where, in his own youth, he had fought a war against Napoleon.

James appraised the man carefully. The pallor of his skin, the slight puckering of the forehead, the dullness of the eyes that suggested pain were all much as he remembered from his last visit some months ago.

I’ve been assigned aide-de-camp to Colonel Thomas Beresford of the 30th Regiment of Foot. We are to depart for Camp Landguarde near London within the week. There the regiment is to be brought up to war establishment prior to proceeding to the Black Sea, James said.

He was aware suddenly of a soft rustle of cloth behind him. He turned, solemn eyes settling upon the small gray-haired woman dressed in black who stood just inside the doorway. Her keen blue-eyed gaze slowly moved over his uniform. James took a step toward her reaching out one gloved hand. Quickly crossing the floor, she held out both of her small, wrinkled ones which he quickly took in his delivering a gentle squeeze.

I heard, she whispered.

I’m sorry, he responded softly. Please don’t be distressed. I must go.

I know, she sighed glancing at her husband.

He embraced the woman and kissed her wrinkled forehead before turning and walking from the room. His sister Mary met him as he exited the kitchen door.

I heard, she said. How long will ye be gone?

He shook his head.

Will Tom be goin’ too, she asked, her gaze falling to her feet.

Aye, he nodded. Though he’s with the 7th Fusiliers, so we might not meet that soon, but I expect we will eventually.

Oh, she sighed unable to hide her disappointment.

Lieutenant Tom O’Neil hailed from the little village of Oldleighlin in County Carlow. He and Tom had met when they both attended the Royal Military College Sandhurst. They were of the same age and shared a common temperament. It was ironic that their homes, being only fifteen miles apart, had never met before. But it had not taken them long before they were life-long friends. James had brought Tom home on holiday once and he was quite taken with Mary, and James thought the feelings were mutual.

After graduating Sandhurst, however, they had both gone their separate ways, James to the 30th Regiment of Foot, and Tom to the Fusiliers. He looked forward to a reunion with his friend in Crimea.

separ.jpg

41679.jpg Chapter One 41684.jpg

separ2.jpg

London, England

March, Year of Our Lord 1854

L illian Hansford artfully watched Captain Lord Ernest Mulcahy over the lace top of her fan. She had been introduced to him two nights ago at Lady Thorncastle’s ball and they had danced one set. Her family, aware of her normally tractable disposition, would have been somewhat perplexed to see her flirting openly with the captain during that one dance. But she had genuinely enjoyed the attentiveness he showered upon her during their dance when it had taken a half-hour or more for them to work through the figures. And then there was the unexpected thrill when their hands had first met, a pulsation Lillian could feel through her gloved fingers. She truly regretted that all her remaining dances that evening were taken, so, being denied a second set with him, she was unable to truly discover if the unfamiliar awareness she had felt with him was genuine.

During the interval until they would meet again, she had done some research on the man, although she preferred to get to know people directly rather than look them up in a book. Nevertheless, Lord Ernest Mulcahy, she discovered, was the first son of Baron John Mulcahy. In 1844, at the age of 14, he was admitted to St. John College in Cambridge. In 1846 he was appointed a cornet in the Coldstream Guards which in 1848 he exchanged to become an ensign in the 30th Regiment of Foot, and in 1850 he was promoted to the rank of captain.

And so, at Lady Worber’s rout this evening, as she observed him approach, she felt a tingle of pleasure in anticipation of a reunion. In all of her eighteen years she had not felt this measure of excitement concerning a gentleman before. As was the current fashion, he wore thick muttonchop whickers. She took a deep breath suddenly delighted and sorry when the music for Auretti’s Dutch Skipper struck up at that moment. She was delighted because it was one of her favorite dances, and sorry, because it was so lively that they would not have an opportunity for conversation.

Lady Hansford, how lovely you are this evening, Captain Lord Ernest Mulcahy smiled, his appreciative gaze sweeping over her before taking the slender gloved hand she extended and pressing it to his lips. If anything, he thought, she was even lovelier than he remembered.

Will you honor me with this dance, and perhaps the supper dance as well? he asked his dark eyes never leaving hers.

Of course, Captain Mulcahy, Lillian said making no attempt to hide her pleasure.

But if they could not converse, they could look and smile. When the lines broke up to go to supper, she placed her hand upon his arm aware of his nearness and the warmth between them after their recent exercise. The captain pulled out a chair for her and she gracefully settled in the seat. She was still breathless and in wonder at the strength of her reaction to him. There was much she didn’t know about him, however, and she wondered what would happen after the ball. Would he want to call upon her?

Other couples began filling the supper room and Lillian was glad Captain Mulcahy gestured her toward two vacant chairs at the end of the farthest table. She hoped he anticipated the location would provide a measure of privacy as the room swelled with the din of conversation and chairs scraping back and forth and waiters rushing in every direction.

Captain Mulcahy frowned impatiently. The waiters seem overly occupied. This is insupportable, we’ll never be served at this rate, he complained. If you will excuse me, Lady Lillian, I will see to our drinks.

As Captain Mulcahy walked away, she took the opportunity to admire his handsome figure in the snug-fitting red uniform coat with its gold braded epaulets on each shoulder and the row of bright brass buttons down the front. She knew he was attached to the 30th Regiment of Foot having described his uniform to her father two nights ago. And to be sure, the narrative at the many society gatherings she attended, was the growing tension with Russia. Would there be a war as many were predicting? She did not like the thought of it.

So, here you are, Lilly. We’ve been searching all over for you.

The smile was already forming on Lillian’s lips even as she raised her gaze to the speaker. She had recognized her older sister Marianne’s voice. Her husband, tall with dark wavy hair, stood at her side, his thoughtful, almost severe gaze assessing Lillian.

Lillian grinned up at her brother-in-law, Nicholas Charenton. Notwithstanding the serious mien he normally displayed, a consequence, she supposed, of his calling, she was deeply fond of him. Three years ago (she would never forget that day) he had literally saved her life. If he had not slapped the baked almond tart out of her hand, she would have consumed the poisoned pastry and have surely died. She shuttered now at the mere thought.

Was that Captain Mulcahy who escorted you to supper? Nicholas asked.

You know him? Lillian asked unable to hide her interest.

I’m afraid so, her brother-in-law grunted, lips pursed with ready disapproval. I pray he has not caught your interest.

Lillian frowned slightly. Why do you say that?

He’s an odd fish. Does a lot of petty boasting in the clubs. But I’m not sure half of what he says has merit.

Nick don’t be so harsh. Maybe he wants to impress Lilly, Marianne interrupted.

Nick shrugged. I’d rather a man prove his worth with deeds, not words, he said.

Well, Lillian sighed, I actually agree. If I could find but one worthy gentleman of noble character and firm convictions who would be a hero rather than acting the part for personal advantage…I could really go for him.

You think Captain Mulcahy is that gentleman? her sister asked kindly.

At that moment Captain Mulcahy arrived carrying two glasses of lemonade. A waiter followed discreetly behind ready to take their food request. Annoyance registered momentarily in Mulcahy’s pale green eyes upon noticing Lord and Lady Charenton, a fact that was not lost on Nicholas. Mulcahy recovered quickly, however, and bowed graciously as introductions were made.

Would you care to join us, my lord, my lady? Mulcahy asked his voice overly pleasant.

Thank you, Captain Mulcahy, Lady Marianne replied, How delightful----er, she abruptly paused not missing the meaningful look from her sister, but regrettably we have already made arrangements with the Clarkstons. There, I see Rebecca beckoning us now.

After her sister and brother-in-law had departed, Mulcahy gave her a slow smile, which started Lillian’s heart to thump unnaturally. She thought he was going to reach across the table and take her hand and the fluttering in her stomach added to the rapid thumping of her heart. But to her surprise his intent gaze suddenly looked past her at something beyond her shoulder.

What is it? she asked, turning slightly to peer back.

It wasn’t a something that had caught Mulcahy’s attention, but a someone, she realized. A tall slim man in a crisp scarlet uniform coat and dark blue trousers with a gold stripe down the outside length, was striding purposefully toward their table, his eyes intense, his lips firm-set. His cheeks were clean shaven; however, a thick dark mustache covered the area above his upper lip. A saber in a shiny brass scabbard jounced solidly against his blue uniform-clad leg at each decisive step.

Mulcahy rose swiftly to his feet.

Lieutenant Wright, Mulcahy said, brow furrowing in obvious displeasure. What is this?

The young officer’s polished shoes clicked audibly as he came to attention.

Colonel Lord Beresford’s compliments, sir, he said in a clear steady voice. His dark blue eyes shifted to Lillian before returning to Captain Mulcahy. He wishes to see you immediately at his headquarters.

Mulcahy shifted from one foot to the other. He stared intensely at the lieutenant. Colonel Beresford cannot be serious. Inform him that I am unduly occupied at the moment, he almost barked.

With all due respect, sir. The Colonel specified he wishes your presence, immediately, sir, the lieutenant replied crispy.

Mulcahy mumbled something under his breath which Lillian didn’t catch. It was obvious that Captain Mulcahy was making a great effort to control his anger. He wasn’t the only one. Lillian naturally acknowledged the need for military strictness, but could this not have waited until morning? What was so important that they be interrupted so uncouthly? She stared accusingly at the brash young lieutenant. How she wanted to give him a piece of her mind.

Captain Mulcahy turned to her. I am sorry, Lady Lillian. Please excuse me. I must accompany Lieutenant Wright. Shall I summon Lady Charenton? I do not wish to leave you alone.

Lillian shook her head. I shall be perfectly fine, she said tautly. My sister and brother-in-law are within view.

She directed her frosty gaze upon the lieutenant, wishing him to feel her antagonism. He stared back at her unfeelingly.

Thoughtfully, Lillian watched the two march off.

Lady Harriet Harbrecht halted in midstride unable to take her eyes from the young man in the bright red uniform coat who had just disappeared into the supper room. Her heart was beating wildly. She took a half step forward before halting again.

Don’t be silly Harriet, she muttered under her breath. You’re making yourself over-wrought. Not after all these years. It couldn’t be.

Determined that she should get a closer look at the man, Lady Harbrecht continued on quick steps to the supper room. As she reached the door Captain Mulcahy exited in front of her. He gave a slight bow before stepping past her. She turned to enter but she nearly collided with the young officer.

Oh, she gasped, and he quickly took hold of her upper arms in order to steady her.

Do forgive me, my lady, he said. Are you well?

Y-yes, she stammered staring up at his handsome face only inches away.

Her legs were suddenly weak, and she found her breath coming rapidly.

Ma’am, please, let me see you to a chair. You look as though you are about to swoon, the officer said frowning in concern.

Please. Thank you. I do feel rather disoriented. It is dreadfully warm.

Yes, ma’am. Please take my arm.

Lieutenant Wright led the woman to a nearby chair where he assisted her to be seated, watching her closely, a worried expression on his face.

Thank you, my dear man, you are very kind, she smiled, eyes searching his face. May I know your name, sir?

He smiled then. Lieutenant James Wright, 30th Regiment of Foot, at your service, my lady.

It is such a pleasure, lieutenant, she said, fingers creeping to the lace at her throat.

It was too much to believe that after all these years. There had to be a mistake. Yet there couldn’t be, the resemblance was too great. And she had nearly given up on her prayers ever being answered.

Shall I call someone to stay with you, ma’am? James asked.

Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I am feeling much better now.

Then I shall leave you, he said and bowing backed away a step before turning smartly and walking away.

Lady Harbrecht never took her eyes off the young lieutenant’s back until he disappeared out the door. Then she signaled to a footman.

Please find Lord Harbrecht and tell him I am ready to leave and have the carriage brought around, she said.

Of course, my lady. Right away, my lady.

‘How curious,’ she thought. ‘The young lieutenant had a distinctive Irish accent.’

James walked away, a puzzled frown on his face. There was something so familiar about the unnerving woman although he knew with certainty that he had never seen her before in his life.

He suddenly halted in the middle of the doorway. He had seen this woman before, in a dream…wasn’t it? He stood debating, preoccupied. Someone jostled him and he moved out of the way of blocking the door.

Excuse me, he mumbled.

There were vague memories, memories he had decided were only dreams. There was a woman who called out to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. The recollection was blurry, but some dreams were too real to forget. It seemed reasonable to think the woman was his mother, but his mother had died when he was very small. There remained a hint of a scandal as he grew older but was hushed and never spoken of in his presence. However, by the time he entered school, he had figured it out himself. He was illegitimate, a bastard. For her sin his mother was sent to live with distant relatives, the Wrights whose name he had taken as his own having never known his mother’s family, and she had died not long after his birth.

Over time he had come to accept his status in life. So, that tearful woman he remembered in his dream. She was not his mother. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. But why had she made such a lasting impression? Was the dream prophetic? And why did the lady he bumped into seem so familiar, though he had never met her before? He shook the endless questions from his mind. He was a soldier now and there was a war to fight.

separ.jpg

41679.jpg Chapter Two 41684.jpg

separ2.jpg

L illian settled in the seat beside her sister Marianne in her brother-in-law, Nicholas’ well-sprung carriage. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, deep in thought as she played over in her mind the disappointing end to Lady Worber’s soiree. She still seethed. Lillian was suddenly aware of Marianne’s hand closing over hers. She glanced over at her sister.

You are very quiet, Lilly, Marianne whispered. What are you thinking?

Will there be war with Russia? Lillian blurted. If she had deliberated the matter further (which she had not) Lillian would have been forced to concede the main cause of her aggravation truly boiled down not to the war itself, but how her relationship with Captain Mulcahy would be affected because of it.

I’m afraid we are already there, Nicholas said with some disgust from his place on the backward facing seat across from them. It has come not as the result of any calculated plan, nor even of hasty last-minute decisions made under stress. It is the consequence of more than two years of fatal blundering in slow-motion by inept statesman who have had months to reflect upon the actions they are taking.

Oh? Lillian murmured peering at him. She could barely make out his features in the dim light. She made